Chapter 18: Fault Lines

The morning after blurred into a strange, brittle silence.

Zara sat at the long marble island of Lucien's penthouse kitchen, a cup of untouched coffee cooling in front of her. Across the room, Lucien was on the phone, his voice low and clipped, speaking in that efficient way she once found intimidating — now it just sounded distant.

She fingered the edges of the photograph still hidden in her bag. The proof of betrayal. His betrayal.

But was it really?

Or had she jumped too fast?

The ache in her chest warned her: You're too close now.It was easier when Lucien was just a means to an end. A weapon to aim.But now... there were nights she ached for him without thinking.Now, she hated how much she wanted to believe in him.

He ended the call and crossed to her, barefoot, wearing dark sweats and a worn T-shirt that clung to him in all the wrong ways. He looked almost boyish like this. Almost reachable.

"You're quiet this morning." His voice was soft, probing.

She forced a smile. "Just thinking."

He tilted his head, studying her. A slow, careful movement, like he was cataloging every crack in her armor. "Thinking about leaving?"

Something raw twisted inside her. She looked down. "Would it matter if I did?"

Lucien was quiet for a beat too long.

"Yes," he said simply.

The honesty of it nearly broke her.

He came closer, bracing his hands on either side of her on the island, caging her gently. Not forcing — never forcing — but hemming her in, making her feel the heat of his body without touching her.

"You're pulling away," he murmured. "Tell me why."

Zara opened her mouth. Closed it. Her fingers clenched around her coffee mug so tightly she was afraid it would shatter.

"You wouldn't understand," she said hoarsely.

Lucien leaned down, his forehead almost brushing hers. "Then make me."

Something in his voice — not command, not arrogance, but pleading — cracked her defenses.

She surged up, kissing him hard, messy, desperate. Not a kiss for seduction — a kiss to hurt.

Lucien caught her jaw in one hand, steadying her, groaning into her mouth. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp.

"You don't get to run from me," he said against her lips.

He lifted her onto the counter like she weighed nothing. Zara shoved his shirt up, baring muscle and heat, and he cursed softly, yanking hers over her head. No patience. No finesse.

Lucien's mouth was everywhere — trailing down her throat, latching onto one sensitive nipple, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. His hands were bruising on her hips, dragging her closer, until she could feel the hard line of him against her core.

Still fully clothed, still furious.

She pushed at him half-heartedly, but he caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand.

"Say you want me," he growled against her skin.

"No," she hissed — and arched into him anyway.

Lucien chuckled low in his throat. "Liar."

He shoved her panties aside and drove into her in one brutal thrust. Zara gasped — pain and pleasure crashing over her in a dizzying wave. He didn't give her time to adjust — he set a ruthless, punishing rhythm, fucking her like he wanted to erase every thought from her mind.

And he was succeeding.

Tears stung her eyes, but she clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, taking everything he gave.

When she came, it wasn't sweet or gentle. It was violent, dragged from the depths of her, her body convulsing around him, her throat raw from the scream she bit back against his shoulder.

Lucien followed a second later, burying himself deep, groaning her name like a prayer he was too far gone to question.

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled and shaking.

It should've made everything simple.

It didn't.

When Zara finally slid down from the counter, pulling away from him, she didn't look back.

Lucien stayed where he was, chest heaving, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

He knew.

He wasn't just losing her.

He might've already lost.

Cliffhanger:

That night, Zara couldn't sleep. She pulled the hidden photo from her bag under the cover of darkness — and on the back, written in jagged, rushed handwriting, was something new:

"Project Phoenix is bigger than you know.Trust no one. Not even him."