Morning crept into Lila's apartment with the sluggishness of someone unwilling to face the day. Sunlight, pale and reluctant, slipped through the half-drawn curtains, spilling in muted streaks across the living room. The place smelled faintly of antiseptic - Matthieu's handiwork from the night before - but it was overpowered now by the earthy, grounding aroma of coffee. Yesterday's memories coursing through her like hot molten lava.
Lila sat at her small round table by the window, cradling a steaming mug between both hands like it was a lifeline. Her thigh throbbed beneath the bandages hidden under loose silk shorts, a constant reminder of how close she'd come to death. Again. She'd lost count of how many bruises dotted her skin, but every shift of her body mapped them out in fresh aches.
She tipped her head back, exhaling steam, and smirked bitterly at her reflection in the black mirror of her coffee.
"Still alive," she murmured. "Disappointing, isn't it?"
The world outside carried on as if her survival hadn't been headline material, but her phone on the table disagreed. Its screen kept buzzing with news alerts. She thumbed one open, and sure enough, her name blared across a headline like some grotesque celebrity feature:
HEIR OF LA ROUSSEAU SYNDICATE SURVIVES SECOND ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION THIS WEEK
Lila laughed softly, the sound dry and humorless. "At least they didn't put my worst photo this time." She scrolled down, scanning the embellished details, the unnamed sources, the speculative vultures picking at her reputation. It was all theater to them - blood and spectacle.
"Seems like it's gonna be harder to keep up the whole facade at work" She sipped her coffee, as if caffeine could drown the bitterness in her mouth.
Her phone rang. Not a news alert this time, but an actual call. Unknown number. Which usually meant one of two things: an enemy with a death wish, or someone who wanted to talk without leaving a trace. Lila smirked, thumb hovering before she answered.
"Bonjour," she drawled, her tone all velvet and knives.
"Don't 'bonjour' me like you've done nothing." The voice on the other end was low, sharp, and just familiar enough to make her sit straighter.
She blinked, then grinned. "Adrien."
"You sound far too pleased with yourself for someone who made international headlines twice in one week. Do you enjoy stressing me out?"
Lila leaned back in her chair, coffee mug balanced precariously in one hand. "It's nice to hear your voice too, big brother."
A sharp sigh cut through the line. "Keep your voice down. You know better than to throw that word around."
Her smirk widened. "Oh, relax. No one's listening. My walls aren't bugged - well, not anymore."
"Lila." Adrien's tone darkened. That was the Adrien she remembered: commanding, grounded, forever the exasperated older one trying to wrangle chaos into order. "You nearly got killed. Twice. Do you realize how reckless you've been? The news is everywhere. Do you understand what that means?"
"That my bone structure photographs well?. That I look pretty even while at the brink of death?"
"Lila-"
"I'm kidding, Adrien," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "God, you're wound tighter than Matthieu."
"You think this is funny?" His voice sharpened. "Every rival syndicate is watching you. You are the heir of La Rousseau - which means every time you walk outside without protection, you paint a target on your back. Do you want to end up in a morgue?"
Lila sipped her coffee with maddening calm. "I think you're forgetting something.."
"What?"
"I'm always in the morgue.
I work there, remember?"
" I'm being serious here, Lila " He says exasperated
" You'd like that, wouldn't you? Finally get the empire all to yourself?"
There was silence for half a beat, then the sound of his sharp laugh, humorless but real. "Please. If I wanted your throne, you wouldn't still be breathing."
"Touché," she murmured, lips curling.
Adrien sighed again, the sound heavy with frustration. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you called me."
"Yes. Because no one else can keep you in line."
Lila arched an eyebrow, staring out the window at the city stretching endlessly before her. "Cute. You think I can be kept in line."
"You could try not making the international press every time you step outside," Adrien snapped. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this makes it for both of us? The whispers are already starting."
"Oh no," she deadpanned, swirling her coffee. "Whispers. How terrifying."
Adrien let out a low growl of frustration, and Lila had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She could picture him pacing wherever he was, running a hand through his hair like he always did when he was torn between strangling her and protecting her.
"You haven't changed," he muttered.
"Neither have you," she shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Still scolding me like I'm twelve. Newsflash: I'm not. I bleed, I fight, I drink too much coffee, and I've got a whole empire to wrangle. Guess what else?, there's nothing you can do about it. You think I don't know what's at stake?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Then Adrien's voice softened, just slightly. "You scared me."
That stopped her for a moment. The words slipped past her defenses, carving a space she hadn't meant to expose.
She swallowed. "You'll have to get used to it. I'm a professional at scaring people."
"You're not people. You're my sister."
The word was spoken like a secret and a shield at once, and for a beat, Lila's smirk faltered. She set her mug down, staring at the curling steam as if it could anchor her.
"Don't call me that," she whispered.
"I'll call you what you are," Adrien said firmly. "Even if the world never knows it. Especially because the world never knows it."
Her chest tightened. She hated how he could do that - strip past her armor with a handful of words. So she reached for the only weapon she trusted: sarcasm.
"You're getting sentimental. Is this about the mystery boyfriend?"
The line went quiet.
Then Adrien cursed softly. "Matthieu talks too much."
Lila's eyes lit with wicked glee. "Ah-ha! So it's true." She leaned forward, grin sharp as a blade. "Adrien Rousseau, king of brooding, lord of scowls, has a boyfriend. Be still my heart."
"Don't start."
"Oh, I'm already starting," she sang. "What's his name? Is he tall? Short? Does he brood as much as you do? God, please tell me he doesn't wear matching scowls."
"His name is Julien," Adrien said tightly.
"Julien." she repeated, savoring the name like wine. "Cute. Soft around the edges. Does he know what a nightmare you are?"
"He knows enough."
"Poor man."
"Lila-"
"What? You bring this up and expect me not to tear into you? Come on. You've been hiding him. Why? Afraid I'd approve?"
Adrien groaned. "I didn't bring it up. You dragged it out of me like you always do. And I didn't tell you because-" He broke off, exhaling heavily. "Because he matters. And because people like us don't get to have things that matter."
Something in his voice twisted in her chest. She hated it. Hated that it made her want to soften when all she wanted was to laugh at him.
"So," she said after a pause, voice lighter, "when do I get to meet him?"
"You don't."
"Oh, come on."
"Not until I'm sure it's safe. Which means probably never."
Lila rolled her eyes. "You're unbearable."
"You love me."
"Questionable."
But there was warmth in her tone now, hidden beneath the sarcasm.
Adrien exhaled, some of the tension in his voice easing. "We'll talk more soon. Maybe... maybe I'll bring him. But you need to promise me something first."
"Promises aren't really my style."
Adrien's voice on the other end softened, almost reluctant. "You're impossible, you know that? One day, I'll bury you myself just so you stop giving me heart attacks."
She sighed dramatically. "Fine. What?"
"Be careful. No more reckless stunts. Keep your guards close. Stay alive. I don't care what games you're playing - I can't lose you."
Her throat tightened again, and for once, she didn't have a ready comeback.
"Fine," she said softly. "But only because you asked nicely."
Adrien huffed a laugh. "That was not nice."
"By your standards, it was practically poetry."
A beat of silence, then Adrien said quietly, "I'll call you soon. Stay safe, little sister."
Before she could craft her comeback, a muffled voice in the background chimed in:
"Adrien! You promised we'd leave in ten minutes!"
Lila froze, then burst into laughter, rich and unrestrained. "Mon Dieu, don't tell me that's Julien."
My God.
There was a curse, a shuffle, and then Adrien's low growl: "Putain... I told you not to yell when I'm on the phone."
Fuck
Lila smirked, sipping the last of her coffee with exaggerated relish. "So it's true. The fearsome Adrien-the one who once broke a man's arm for staring too long-is being nagged like a married man."
"Shut up," he bit out, but she could hear the smile hiding under his irritation.
"Oh, I am never letting you live this down," she sing-songed. "Next time you try to scold me for being reckless, I'll just ask if Julien let you out of the house first."
He groaned. "Remind me why I bother to call or check up on you again? "
"Because without me, your life would be boring," she replied smoothly.
There was silence for a beat, broken only by Julien's distant voice again, softer this time, tugging Adrien back into his world.
Adrien exhaled, a sound caught between fondness and defeat. "We'll talk soon. Don't get yourself killed before then."
"Same to you, big brother." she said quietly, the teasing gone.
The line went dead, leaving her with her cooling coffee, a grin she couldn't quite erase, and a pang of longing that nestled deep in her chest.
Lila sat in the heavy silence of her apartment, coffee cooling in her mug, bruises aching with every breath. Outside, the city roared on, oblivious.
She stared at her phone, his words from earlier echoing. Little sister.
She lifted her mug again, though the coffee had gone cold, and muttered to herself with a crooked smile, "Still alive. That'll have to do."
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