THE CHASE BEGINS
Elara didn't return to her apartment. Not yet.
She needed space. Needed air. Needed to feel like herself again—away from Lucien, away from Serena, away from the suffocating world of Blackwood Tower.
She walked the city streets, heels in hand, bare feet on the cold asphalt. Neon lights flickered around her like tiny warnings. Her phone buzzed relentlessly.
Lucien: Where are you?
Lucien: Answer me.
Lucien: Elara.
She ignored them all.
Then came a new message.
Evan: I know where you are. Let me help.
Her chest tightened. Of course. He hadn't given up. Never had.
She typed back quickly:
Elara: I don't need your help. Stay away.
But as she pressed send, she heard footsteps. Sharp, heavy, purposeful.
"Ellie."
Her heart froze.
Lucien emerged from the shadows, perfectly dressed even at midnight, his coat flaring slightly in the wind. Eyes dark, controlled, predatory.
"You're impossible," he said quietly.
"I'm leaving," she said firmly.
"No," he said, stepping closer. "You're not leaving anywhere."
"I can," she whispered. "I'm done. This… all of this. You, the office, your wars—Serena."
"You think this is about me?!" His voice broke just slightly, enough to shiver through her. "It's never been about me. It's about you! You. Elara! And you think I'll just let you disappear?"
Her chest tightened.
"I don't belong here," she said. "Not in your world, not in your life."
"Bullshit," he said, taking another step. "You belong nowhere but with me. And don't think I won't make you see it."
She tried to back away, but the wall was behind her. He closed the distance with terrifying ease.
"You think you can walk out and I'll let it happen?" he whispered, low and commanding. "Think again."
Her heart pounded. Her hands trembled—but for the first time, something else surged: dangerous desire.
"Lucien—" she started, her voice barely a whisper.
He pressed closer, just enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of cologne, power, and danger.
"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, almost tenderly. "But you keep forcing my hand."
Her breath hitched.
"Then don't force it," she whispered back.
A tense silence fell. The city hum faded behind them. Two heartbeats. One space. Too close.
Then—he leaned in, not fully, but enough that she felt the sharp edge of temptation, the heat of proximity, the promise of everything she wasn't supposed to want.
"I don't care what you say," he said, his lips almost brushing her hair. "You're mine, Elara."
She swallowed, conflicted, trembling, wanting to pull away but unable to move.
The night stretched, charged and dangerous, as two worlds collided under the city lights:
His obsession. Her defiance.
And the chase had only just begun.