Aurora's footsteps echoed in the empty street, her breath shallow, heart pounding, not from fear, but from regret.
She didn't know where she was going, only that it had to be far from the man who wore the title of father but held none of its meaning.
Without thinking, she found herself standing on the edge of an old bridge.
Her fingers curled around the cold, rough rim of the railing. She stared down at the river below, the glassy surface.
A voice, soft and fragile, slipped through her mind.
"Aurora, please don't marry him."
Her mother's eyes, warm and pleading, haunted her like a ghost.
Aurora's lips trembled as she whispered. "Mom... I should have listened."
The bridge was in cold silence; the only sound there was; was the soft murmur of the water flowing beneath. Streetlights cast a dim glow, catching the shimmer of tears Aurora refused to shed.
She stood still, one hand resting on the rusted railing, the other clenched at her side.
"Do you want to commit suicide?"
The voice pierced through her.
Aurora spun around, startled.
Lucien stood just feet away, leaning casually against the railing as if he'd been there the whole time. The wind tousled his coat and ruffled his hair, but his face was calm, too calm.
His gaze met hers, cool and unreadable.
"You could fall," he said, almost lazily. "Just one slip... and you'd be gone in seconds."
He tilted his head slightly, as if pondering something.
"Or..." he added with a smirk. "if you're afraid of water, I could help. I know a few ways to make it quick. Painless."
Aurora's lips parted in disbelief, her fingers slowly pulling away from the rail.
She turned fully toward him, the hurt burning her eyes now replaced with ice.
"I know you'd be thrilled if I disappeared," she said, voice low and bitter. "But you are wrong this time,"
She stepped back from the edge, chin raised defiantly.
"I have no plans to die. Not today. Not ever."
"That's good," he said, his voice low and filled with mock approval. "At least you've got enough brain left in that head."
Aurora's eyes narrowed. The soft glow of the streetlight shines across her face, highlighting the bruises beneath her eyes and the dried blood on her lip.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion. "Were you following me?"
Lucien arched a brow, pushing off the railing. His shoes clicked softly against the pavement as he stepped closer.
"Do you think you're that important for me to follow?" he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I bailed you out of prison today, and instead of a simple thank you, I get hostility."
"I already thanked you," she snapped. "But let's not pretend that's what you are after. What do you really want from me?"
Lucien didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned in close. Too close.
His breath grazed her cheek, warm against the night air. His eyes, cold and unreadable, locked onto her eyes with unnerving calm.
"I told you," he murmured. "I didn't bail you out for nothing."
"But," he added, pulling back just enough to let the cold in again, "before we talk about what I want, you need to go clean yourself up. Change those prison clothes. Tend to that injury on your foot. Take a proper bath."
His gaze flickered down to her scraped ankle, then back up to meet her eyes.
"Then we talk," he said simply.
Aurora didn't move. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed. A dog barked.
Her jaw clenched. Her fingers curled tightly against the railing.
"I don't take orders from you," she said, her voice low but firm. "You bailed me out, fine. That doesn't mean you get to control what I do next."
His smirk didn't waver.
"You're bleeding," he said flatly. "You look like you crawled out of the grave. And yet you're standing here trying to act like you're still untouchable."
Lucien stepped in again, slower this time. He didn't touch her; he didn't have to. His presence alone was suffocating.
"Don't mistake freedom for power, Aurora," he said. "Right now, you're standing because I opened that cage. And if you're not careful, I'll remind you just how quickly it can close again."
Her heart pounded, but she didn't let it show.
Aurora's eyes narrowed, the wind catching strands of her hair and blowing them across her face. She didn't bother to move them. Her glare stayed locked on Lucien.
"If you think threatening me will make me obey," she said, her voice low but unyielding. "then you've forgotten who I am. Lucien... you know exactly how stubborn I can be."
Lucien's posture shifted. He stood up straight.
"I don't want to use force," he said.
He stepped forward. Slowly. Then he lifted her hand and tilted her chin with two fingers, gently but firmly.
"So come with me," he murmured. "And we'll get things sorted out... properly."
Aurora slapped his hand away with a sharp flick, her chin lifting defiantly.
"I'm not someone you can order around," she snapped.
She turned and started walking.
But she didn't get far.
His hand shot out and caught her by the arm. Before she could jerk free, he swept her off her feet.
"Lucien!" she gasped, her voice full of outrage.
His arms were around her back and beneath her knees.
"Put me down!" she yelled, kicking her legs wildly. "Lucien, I swear, let me go."
She struggled, fists pounding against his chest, but he didn't flinch. His grip never wavered.
A few minutes later, the sleek black car came into view beneath the flickering streetlamp.
One of Lucien's men stepped forward and pulled the rear door open.
Lucien didn't slow. Aurora was still thrashing in his arms.
"Put me down!" She shouted, legs kicking, hair whipping across her face. "I said, let me go!"
He didn't answer.
He reached the car, leaned down, and placed her in the passenger seat. Her shoulder hit the leather as she tried to lunge back up, but Lucien was faster.
He pinned both her wrists with a grip, holding her in place.
His face was inches from hers.
"If you fought this hard with Zyrell," he said. "maybe you wouldn't have spent a single day in prison."
Aurora froze for a heartbeat.
"Why are you bringing him up?" she asked, teeth clenched, voice shaking with fury.
Lucien's eyes darkened. "Because you keep running away from the past. That things are different from five years ago."
He leaned closer, voice rising.
"Don't you want to know what really happened that night?" He snapped. "Don't you want to know who that child belongs to?"