Maya returned to work two nights later, and Luke noticed the difference immediately. She moved with more purpose, held her head higher. Whatever breaking point she'd reached, she'd come back from it stronger.
"You look better," he said when she sat down for their 3 AM break.
"I feel better. Weird what actual rest can do." Maya sipped her coffee. "I've been thinking about what you said. About not carrying everything alone."
"Yeah?"
"I talked to Jen. Told her how bad things really were. She connected me with a nonprofit that helps healthcare workers with debt." Maya's smile was tentative but real. "They can't make it disappear, but they're negotiating with the collectors. Might reduce what I owe by thirty percent."
"That's great news."
"It's something. First time in two years I've felt like maybe I can actually survive this." She studied him over her coffee cup. "Thank you for showing up when I needed someone."
Luke felt warmth spread through his chest. "Anytime."
"So what about you? How's the grad student life treating you?"
"Boring compared to hospital drama."
"Dave's been talking about you," Maya said. "Said you handled that mugger like special forces. He's convinced you have a military background."
Luke tensed slightly. "Dave talks too much."
"He's not wrong though, is he?" Maya's gaze was direct. "You move like someone trained for violence. That's not normal, Luke."
He'd promised not to lie to her. "I had intensive training when I was younger. Different life, different circumstances."
"Military?"
"Something like that."
Maya nodded slowly, accepting the non-answer. "And now you're a security guard studying history. Quite the career change."
"People change. Sometimes you need to step away from who you were to figure out who you want to be."
"That's surprisingly philosophical for 3 AM."
They sat in comfortable silence. Luke found himself relaxing into the normalcy of it, this small pocket of peace in both their chaotic lives.
Then Maya's pager went off. She checked it and sighed. "Multiple trauma incoming. I should go."
"Be safe."
"Always am." She stood, then hesitated. "Luke? Are you working Friday night?"
"I have Friday off actually. Why?"
"There's a food truck festival in Brooklyn. Jen convinced me I need to do something besides work and sleep." Maya looked almost shy. "Want to come? As friends, I mean."
Luke knew he should say no. Getting closer to Maya put her in more danger, especially with Isabella searching for him. But looking at her hopeful expression, he couldn't refuse.
"I'd like that," he said.
Maya's smile was worth the risk. "Great. I'll text you details."
She hurried off toward the ER. Luke sat alone with his cooling coffee, thinking about Friday. A normal human activity—going to a food festival with someone he cared about.
It sounded perfect.
It sounded dangerous.
His phone buzzed. Viktor, with an update: *Council meeting was rough. Marcus is demanding answers. Gave him two weeks. This is bad, Lucian.*
Luke typed back: *Handle it. You know the treaties better than anyone.*
*Without your authority, everything's fragile. And Isabella's been too quiet.*
*Keep me updated. I'll come back if necessary.*
*That might be sooner than you think.*
Luke pocketed his phone. The supernatural world was fracturing, and he was playing human while his empire crumbled.
But when he thought about giving up these last eight months—giving up morning sunlight and Maya's laugh—something in him rebelled.
He'd lived three hundred years in cold darkness. He deserved this brief moment of warmth.
Even if it was selfish.
---
Across the city, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, Damien smiled at his phone. His people had finally found something useful—security footage from Roosevelt Hospital.
"Isabella," he called. "You need to see this."
The witch appeared from the study, annoyance clear. "This better be important."
"Watch." Damien played the footage. A parking garage, a mugging in progress, and then a security guard intervening with impossible skill.
"So? A trained security guard stopped a mugging."
"Watch how he moves. That's centuries of combat experience compressed into a mortal body." Damien rewound it. "And look at the timestamp. Two months ago. Right when Lucian disappeared."
Isabella leaned closer, studying the grainy footage. Her eyes widened. "That's him."
"You're sure?"
"I've watched him move for two hundred years. I'd know him anywhere." Isabella's hands clenched. "He's working as a security guard? At a hospital?"
"Apparently. And look." Damien pulled up another image—the security guard sitting with a woman in scrubs. "He's made friends."
Isabella stared at the image of Maya, her expression darkening. "Who is she?"
"Nurse. Maya Carter, age twenty-five, works in the ER. Nothing special except Lucian seems to care."
"Then she's leverage." Isabella smiled coldly. "We can't kill Lucian directly—he's still too skilled, even mortal. But threaten what he cares about? That's different."
"What's the plan?"
"We watch. We wait. We learn everything about Maya Carter." Isabella couldn't look away from the image. "And when the time is right, we use her to destroy him."
She traced Maya's face on the screen with one sharp nail. "Enjoy your humanity while it lasts, Lucian. I'm going to make you regret ever leaving the darkness."