Chapter 108

Morning light filtered through the blinds, dust motes dancing in the golden haze. I sat on the edge of the couch, coffee warm in my hands, trying to steady the nerves that had taken hold overnight. Lucien’s presence hung over us like a storm cloud—silent, threatening, and patient. He’s watching. Always watching.

Torin appeared in the doorway, a frown pulling his brow down as he held a tablet filled with live updates from Casey. “He’s moving,” he said, voice tight. “Nothing concrete yet, but he’s testing boundaries. Street cams show him near the area Jess keeps under surveillance.”

I stiffened, hands tightening around the mug. “Near the bar?” I asked, my voice a whisper, though every nerve in my body screamed. That place was familiar, safe…or at least it had been. If Lucien decided to strike there, anyone could be in danger.

Torin nodded. “Maybe. He’s smart, probing, looking for weaknesses. He’s not reckless, but he’s bold. We need to assume he’s expecting a reaction.”

I set the mug down and ran a hand through my hair, a sense of helplessness twisting my stomach. “We’ve been careful. We’ve stayed in safe zones. How does he always find a way in?”

Torin moved to sit beside me, his hand brushing mine in a comforting, grounding gesture. “Because he’s patient. And obsessed. But obsessiveness doesn’t equal victory. Not against us.”

I wanted to believe that, desperately, but I couldn’t shake the image of Lucien’s eyes—the cold calculation behind them, the smirk that promised chaos. He’s dangerous, I thought. And he’s not stopping.

Torin leaned closer, voice low and possessive. “We set the rules. He may move, but we control the response. That’s our advantage.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Then we make the move first,” I said softly. “We can’t just wait.”

His eyes sharpened, and he nodded. “Exactly. We anticipate. We bait. We strike when it counts. But Marlowe… we need to be precise. One wrong step and it’s all over.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his focus made my pulse race. “I’m ready,” I said, firm, letting the fear slide just enough to let courage take its place. “Whatever it takes, we end this.”

Torin pressed his lips to my temple, a fleeting touch, a quiet promise. “Together,” he whispered.

The next few hours blurred into preparation. Maps spread across the table, cameras adjusted, surveillance feeds checked and rechecked. Casey called twice, giving updates, and each time the tension in the room grew. Lucien was methodical, moving like a shadow, leaving hints of his presence without revealing himself fully.

I paced the room, coffee forgotten, mind racing. Every step is calculated. Every glance is deliberate. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities, the threats, the traps he might set. And yet, through it all, Torin remained a constant, a protective presence that reminded me we weren’t powerless.

At one point, he reached out, taking my hand. “Look at me,” he commanded gently. “No matter what comes, we react together. We’re a unit. Nothing breaks that.”

I met his eyes, drawing strength from the certainty in them. The fire between us simmered under the surface, a quiet undercurrent of desire that refused to be extinguished even as fear clawed at me. We’re alive. We’re ready. We can face him.

Hours passed, and by late afternoon, Torin had devised a plan. Small, precise, and risky—but effective. “We lure him,” he said, outlining each step. “We make him think he’s in control, and then we turn the tables. He doesn’t know what’s coming.”

I traced the edge of the map, following his finger along the streets, absorbing every detail. “And if he… if he suspects?”

Torin’s jaw tightened. “Then we adapt. He won’t anticipate us. Not this time.”

The air between us held a tense electricity. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to let the brief intimacy of our mornings carry over, but I knew better. Not now. The storm outside demanded focus. Our fire, for now, had to stay contained, simmering, waiting for the right moment.

Later, I walked to the window, watching as the city stretched out beneath the early evening glow. Cars moved slowly along slick streets, their headlights reflecting like liquid gold. Somewhere in those shadows, Lucien moved, patient, silent, dangerous. And for the first time, I allowed myself to feel something different: not fear. Because we were ready.

Torin joined me, sliding his hands around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “He won’t get you,” he whispered. “Not while I’m breathing. Not while I’ve got you in my sight.”

I leaned into him, letting the warmth and security of his presence wash over me. “I know,” I said. “But… I want him to see we’re not afraid. That we’re… together.”

He pressed a light kiss to my temple. “Then he will. And he’ll regret it.”

The evening deepened, and we spent the next hour reviewing every detail, every route, every contingency. Lucien’s movements were small, almost imperceptible, but the pattern emerged slowly. He was waiting for a reaction, but he didn’t know we had anticipated him.

Finally, Torin sat back, stretching, his expression one of grim satisfaction. “We’re ready,” he said simply. “All of it. Every piece is in place.”

I exhaled, tension easing slightly. “Then we wait,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “And we make the first move.”

Torin took my hand again, squeezing it, a silent affirmation. “We’ll handle it together,” he murmured. “And Marlowe…” His voice dropped, low, intimate, full of the fire that had become our shared language. “…we survive it together.”

I pressed my forehead to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my cheek. For a moment, the world narrowed to this small room, this pulse of warmth and determination. Outside, Lucien prowled, patient and cunning, but inside, we were united.

And that unity was our weapon.

I whispered, more to myself than to him, “We’re ready.”

Torin’s lips brushed my hair, and I felt the familiar surge of desire mixed with the adrenaline of preparation. We fight, we survive, and we win.

And somewhere deep down, I knew, we wouldn’t just survive…we would thrive.