Chapter 13 – A Dangerous Thread
AURORA
The house was silent in the morning.
Too silent.
Aurora sat at the breakfast table, fingers tightening around her cup of tea. The delicate porcelain felt too fragile in her grasp, but she couldn't bring herself to let go.
Across from her, Richard Sinclair flipped through a newspaper, unreadable as ever.
But she knew better.
Knew that he noticed everything.
Knew that if she breathed wrong, he'd catch it.
Her mother sat at the far end of the table, quiet, as always. Dressed perfectly, hands folded in her lap, an expensive bracelet glinting against her wrist.
A woman who had everything.
And nothing.
Aurora's stomach twisted.
Last night played on a loop in her mind—the weight of Lucian's touch, the way he had stood so close, like he was daring her to pull away.
She hadn't.
Even now, the memory of his fingers brushing her skin left a phantom warmth she couldn't shake.
She shouldn't think about it.
About him.
But she did.
Richard set his newspaper down.
Aurora forced herself to take a slow sip of tea, her heartbeat measured.
"What happened to Graham?"
The words sent ice through her veins.
Her grip tightened around the cup.
"He didn't show up this morning." Richard's voice was light, but she wasn't fooled. It was never light. "And I find that strange, considering he was supposed to be on duty last night."
Aurora's pulse pounded in her ears.
Richard's gaze settled on her. Waiting. Watching.
Lucian's words from last night came back to her.
"No evidence. No trace."
She had no reason to be afraid.
She wasn't.
She met her father's gaze with the same blank expression she had perfected over the years.
"I don't know," she said smoothly. "Maybe he got bored of babysitting."
Her father studied her.
She forced herself to hold still, to breathe evenly, to not think about the truth.
Because Richard Sinclair could smell fear.
And he thrived on it.
Seconds passed.
Then—
"Hm."
He picked his newspaper back up, turning the page like the conversation never happened.
Aurora let out a slow, silent breath.
But she knew.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
---
LUCIAN
Lucian had learned to operate on little sleep.
Last night had been no exception.
He leaned against the sleek black car parked outside the Sinclair estate, the morning air crisp against his skin.
He had been watching since sunrise.
Watching her.
She had stepped onto the balcony fifteen minutes ago, wrapped in a silk robe, looking out over the gardens.
Lost in thought.
She didn't know he was here.
Didn't know he had been here every night since he met her.
Lucian pulled a cigarette from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers but not lighting it.
His patience had always been razor-thin, but with Aurora, he found himself waiting.
For what?
He didn't know.
A movement by the front door caught his attention.
Richard Sinclair.
Lucian tilted his head slightly.
The man adjusted his suit jacket, murmuring something to one of his men before stepping into his car.
Lucian's eyes darkened.
There was something off about the way he moved this morning.
Slower.
More calculated.
He had noticed Graham's disappearance.
And Richard Sinclair didn't let things go.
Lucian's jaw clenched.
If the man started digging too deep—
No.
He wouldn't find anything.
Lucian had made sure of that.
His gaze flicked back up to the balcony.
Aurora was gone.
His fingers twitched.
He needed to see her.
And soon.
---
AURORA
Aurora didn't know why she went to the library.
Maybe because it was the only room in the house Richard rarely entered.
Maybe because it was the only place she could breathe.
Or maybe—
Because she needed to be alone.
To think.
She curled up in the oversized armchair near the fireplace, pulling her knees to her chest.
She should feel different after last night.
She should feel…something.
Guilt. Regret.
But all she felt was relief.
Relief that Graham was gone.
Relief that Lucian had handled it.
That he had handled it for her.
Her lips parted on a slow breath.
What did that say about her?
That she had let a man—a killer—wrap himself around her world so effortlessly?
A shadow crossed the doorway.
Her body tensed.
She didn't have to look up to know.
She felt him before she saw him.
Lucian stepped inside, his presence swallowing the room whole.
Dark. Lethal. Unapologetic.
Her fingers curled into the armchair.
"You shouldn't be here," she murmured.
His lips barely tilted.
"And yet, here I am."
The air between them felt electric.
Aurora swallowed. "My father will—"
"Be gone for hours," Lucian interrupted.
She exhaled slowly, pulse hammering against her ribs.
His gaze raked over her, slow, deliberate.
He moved closer.
Close enough that she could smell his cologne—something dark and undeniably male.
"I waited for you to react," Lucian said.
Her brows furrowed. "React to what?"
"Last night."
Aurora's throat went dry.
She had reacted.
Just not in the way he expected.
Lucian's fingers grazed the armrest of her chair, his knuckles ghosting against hers.
She shivered.
But she didn't move away.
Lucian hummed.
His voice was lower when he spoke.
"You're different than I expected."
Aurora's pulse stuttered.
"And what did you expect?"
Lucian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached forward—slow, careful—and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Her breath caught.
His touch was barely there, but it sent a sharp heat through her veins.
His thumb lingered against her cheek.
And then, softly—too softly—he murmured:
"Someone I could break."
Aurora's stomach flipped.
His words should terrify her.
They didn't.
Because the way he looked at her?
Like she was something untouchable.
Something he wanted but knew he shouldn't have.
She had seen that look before.
And she knew—
Lucian Vale was teetering on a dangerous edge.
And she?
She was right there with him.