Chapter 109

The city was quiet, deceptively so, as if holding its breath for what was coming. I sat at the edge of the bed, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the cityscape outside the window. Lights flickered in the distance, distant sirens wailed, and somewhere beneath it all, Lucien moved, calculating and patient. He’s close. I can feel it.

Torin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression tight with tension. “We’ve got eyes on every exit. Cameras, patrols, backup,” he said, voice low. “He may be patient, but he’s predictable. Every move he makes has a pattern, and we’ve mapped them all.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Every move? How can you be sure?”

He stepped closer, brushing a hand over my shoulder, grounding me. “Because I’ve spent weeks watching him, predicting him, thinking like him. And I won’t let him touch you. Not now, not ever.”

I wanted to believe him, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen. He’s smart. Smarter than I am. And he knows things… things I haven’t told anyone.

Torin’s hand found mine, fingers entwining. “We move first,” he said, a quiet command. “He thinks he’s in control, but we decide the game. And when he realizes that, it’ll be too late.”

I leaned against him, feeling the warmth and the steady pulse of his heart. Desire simmered beneath the fear, a reminder that even amidst chaos, life, and connection, persisted. We can’t let fear rule us.

Hours passed with meticulous planning. Maps sprawled across the dining table, routes highlighted, contingencies drawn in careful inked lines. Casey called with updates, relaying Lucien’s subtle probes: a car parked too long, a delivery van positioned oddly, an unfamiliar man observing a corner. Each incident was small, almost dismissible, yet together, they painted a picture of a predator circling.

I traced one of the routes with a finger, feeling the tension in my muscles tighten. “He’s probing the bar,” I murmured. “Jess’s place.”

Torin’s eyes darkened. “I know. That’s where he thinks he’ll find leverage. But he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him.”

I swallowed, gripping his hand. “And if he escalates?”

“Then we escalate better,” he said, jaw set, eyes sharp. “We control the chaos, Marlowe. Not him.”

Despite the reassurance, my mind raced. I imagined Lucien’s eyes, cold and calculating, the smirk that always accompanied his threats. He’s patient, he’s dangerous, and he won’t stop.

Torin must have sensed my thoughts, because he pressed a hand to my temple. “Stop imagining him winning. We’re not naïve, but we’re not helpless either. Focus on what we can control. You, me, the team. That’s everything we need.”

I exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension drain. “Control,” I whispered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it real.

Torin leaned closer, brushing his lips against my hair. “Exactly. Control.”

By late afternoon, we moved to the bar. Jess had already started his evening preparations, Tannin bustling behind the counter, restocking, checking cash registers, and ensuring nothing was out of place. The hum of activity should have been comforting, yet every shadow, every passerby, set my nerves on edge.

Torin led the way, keeping close, scanning every corner, every potential threat. I followed, hands occasionally brushing against his, letting the small touches remind me we weren’t alone in this.

Jess approached, hand extended. “Torin, Marlowe. Everything’s set. We’ve tightened the cameras, added patrols, and I’ve got my team on standby.”

I nodded, grateful for the reinforcement. “Thank you,” I murmured. “We can’t afford mistakes.”

Jess gave a grim smile. “Then don’t make any.”

The night deepened, and with it, the tension thickened. Every car that passed outside drew my attention. Every pedestrian made me flinch. I found myself pressed against Torin, seeking the assurance his presence always gave.

Hours passed, and still no overt moves from Lucien. Yet I could feel him, patient and deliberate, waiting for the perfect opening. And that made every second unbearable.

Finally, my phone buzzed, a message from an unknown number. I froze, staring at the screen.

“You think you’re safe. You’re not. She’s mine. Tonight.”

Torin grabbed the phone from my hands, scanning the message, his face darkening. “He’s making a move,” he muttered, voice low and deadly. “And it’s close. Too close.”

My stomach dropped. “What do we do?” I asked, panic starting to lace my voice.

Torin’s hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We stick to the plan. Nothing reckless. He wants a reaction. We don’t give him one. We bait him, lure him, and then—” His jaw tightened. “We end this. Tonight.”

I nodded, heart hammering, feeling the adrenaline spike. The bar became a fortress, every exit mapped, every camera feed monitored. Tannin moved efficiently, unaware of the storm about to hit, yet I felt the need to shield everyone, to keep them from harm.

Hours passed in tense silence. Every time the door opened, I flinched. Every sound outside made my pulse race. Torin remained close, protective, eyes sweeping the room with meticulous care.

Finally, just before midnight, the first indication came…a shadow near the alley behind the bar. Movement, careful, calculated. Lucien.

Torin’s grip on my arm tightened. “Stay behind me,” he said, voice low. “And whatever happens, stay calm.”

I pressed close, feeling the heat of him against me, letting the steady confidence of his presence ground me. The predator was here, but we were ready. Every contingency planned, every escape route known.

Lucien’s figure emerged from the darkness, silent, confident, a smirk playing on his lips as if he already believed he had the upper hand. I could see the flash of recognition in his eyes, the mix of obsession and arrogance that had haunted us for weeks.

Torin’s eyes narrowed, body coiled, ready to strike. “Not tonight,” he muttered, almost under his breath.

Lucien paused, surveying the bar, taking in the cameras, the patrols, the human shields we had layered around us. He moved forward, testing the boundaries, seeking a weakness.

And then, just as planned, he stepped into our trap. Every move anticipated, every exit controlled. Torin’s hand slid into mine, grounding me, and together, we faced him.

Lucien’s eyes flicked to mine, the smirk fading, replaced by something sharper—recognition, maybe even fear. We’re not helpless. We’re ready.

I drew a breath, feeling the fire and tension in equal measure. Tonight, we fight. Tonight, we take back control.

Torin leaned closer, whispering in my ear, voice low and intimate despite the danger. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. Always.”

I pressed my forehead to his chest, letting the surge of adrenaline and anticipation mix with something deeper, trust, desire, certainty. “Together,” I whispered.

And for the first time in days, I allowed myself to feel not just fear, but the power of being ready. Lucien may have thought he had control, but tonight, we were the hunters.

The night stretched, heavy with tension and electricity. Lucien moved, we countered, the dance precise and lethal. And through it all, Torin’s presence anchored me, his confidence seeping into me, reminding me we weren’t alone.

By the end of the first hour, it became clear: he had underestimated us. Every feint, every maneuver we had practiced worked perfectly. And though the confrontation was just beginning, I felt a surge of hope… We were ready.

And Lucien was about to learn, finally, that he could never touch what was ours.