Chapter 6
Lucien
Ididn’t look back.
Hell, everything in me screamed to look back. Just once. To make sure she was still standing, that she hadn’t crumpled under the pressure of what she’d seen. That she was surviving after I left her with more questions than truths.
But I didn’t look. I couldn’t afford to.
Not with my pulse still hammering from the warp. Not with the residual energy still crackling along my skin, like lightning begging for ground. And not with the phantom of something . . . of her, still lingering. Threading through me like a tether I can’t cut.
Dammit.
I take the long way out of the alley, slipping through the maze of side streets and broken corners, letting the city’s energy wash over me.
New York stirred around me, half-asleep and unknowing.
Food cart aromas filled the air, cabs blared, strangers brushed past without a glance.
Normal. Mundane. Human. A world I’m not meant to touch.
My kind live by several rules, three of them being the most important. An oath we swear to keep our realm safe:
Never interfere in mortal realms.
Never cross without sanction.
Never leave a trace.
Bringing her to Imperium was a mistake. Reckless, even by my standards. She shouldn’t have seen what she saw. The look on her face when she opened her eyes conjured something I thought long dead. She didn’t know whether I’d saved her or condemned her. And for a second, I didn’t know either.
I told myself I pulled her out of danger because letting a mortal die in such a way would have been wasteful.
Unnecessary. But that’s a lie. The truth is uglier, but much more straightforward.
There was something there. Between us. Not the burn of shared energy, but something else. Something stronger.
And she felt it. I know she did. I saw it right before I vanished.
That’s the problem. Cece shouldn’t exist in my orbit.
She can’t matter. I’m not even sure why she does.
I’ve walked through this world and the next long enough to know what attachments cost. I’ve seen what they do.
How they hollow you out. How they burn down everything you think you can protect.
They’re weakness. And weakness gets exploited.
She was afraid, and rightfully so. I’d thrown her into something she never asked for, something I couldn’t explain, and then left her standing in an alley with nothing but a wound on her forehead and a name to remember me by.
She shouldn’t remember me at all. I should’ve made damn sure of that, not relied on the slight fractures I caused when I pressed my hands to her head and let the current flow.
It wouldn’t harm her, just blur the edges.
Gaps in memory. A lingering uncertainty, a doubt about whether her thoughts were even real.
But like a foolish idiot, part of me didn’t want her to forget.
Part of me wanted her to remember. Wants her to remember.
So I let some of it remain. And now I’m still thinking about what happened, still carrying it, branded by it.
But that won’t last. It can’t. I won’t allow it.
There’s no room for sentiment where I walk.
The second I step back through the boundary, the air hits me like stone, sharp and cold, loaded with consequence. Imperium never welcomes me back gently. It always feels heavier after the mortal world, as if the realm itself knows I’ve broken another rule and is seeking retribution.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and push through.
I know there will be fallout. There always is. What kind, I don’t yet know. But her voice still echoes, and I know one thing with certainty. This should be over, but it isn’t.