Chapter 19: Phoenix Rising — Part 1

The city glowed in the distance, indifferent to the war raging inside her.

Zara clutched the photograph tighter in her hand, its edges biting into her skin. Her legs felt shaky as she crossed the cold wood floor, Lucien's discarded dress shirt hanging loose around her frame.

Lucien stood by the massive glass window, a silent storm wrapped in a tailored silhouette, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingertips.

"You're not sleeping," he said without turning.

"Neither are you," Zara replied.

The air between them snapped tight.

Lucien finally shifted, his profile catching the dim light. "You found something."

It wasn't a question.

Zara's fingers twitched around the photograph. Caleb Myles. Project Phoenix. Words that meant nothing yet felt like everything.

"Maybe," she said, voice flat.

Lucien took a slow sip of his drink, the muscles in his jaw ticking. "Ask me."

It sounded like a dare. Like a warning.

Her heartbeat hammered painfully. If I ask, there's no going back.

Zara forced herself forward until she was a breath away from him. Close enough to smell the smoke on his skin, the lingering trace of sex between them.

She tipped her chin up. "What's Project Phoenix?"

Lucien went completely still.

For one suspended moment, it was like the world outside froze — like the glittering skyline held its breath along with her.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. "It was supposed to save your father's empire."

Zara blinked. "Supposed to?"

Lucien's mouth twisted in a grim smile. "Instead, it killed him."

The room seemed to tilt.

Lucien turned fully now, pinning her with a look that stripped her bare. "Phoenix was a merger project. Underground. Illegal in some ways. Designed to shield Raine Industries from the hostile takeover Ethan Blackwell and Caleb were orchestrating."

Zara staggered back a step. "Caleb? Caleb helped him?"

Lucien laughed bitterly. "Caleb built it."

The photo in her hand shook. Caleb Myles. Her father's best friend. Her second father.

"I don't understand," Zara said hoarsely.

Lucien reached for her wrist, prying the photograph from her fingers. His touch was firm but not cruel.

"You're not seeing the whole picture yet," he said, voice rough. "And when you do, you'll wish you hadn't."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear — a gesture so intimate it burned.

"I'm trying to protect you," he whispered.

Zara yanked away from him, her heart roaring in her ears. "You're trying to control me!"

"No," Lucien said sharply. "If I wanted to control you, you wouldn't even be standing here. You'd be locked away somewhere safe where no one could touch you. Not Ethan. Not Caleb. Not even me."

The rawness in his voice cut deeper than any shouted argument.

"You think you're protecting me," Zara said, bitter. "But you're just another man lying to me."

Lucien's eyes darkened, and for a moment — just a moment — something savage flickered across his face.

Then, without warning, he dropped the glass onto the floor. It shattered at their feet, sharp shards glinting like stars.

Zara froze.

Lucien stepped over the glass, closing the distance between them, a predator moving slow and lethal.

"You don't get it," he said, voice low and vibrating with something dangerous. "I'm not the enemy."

"Then tell me the damn truth!" Zara cried.

Lucien grabbed her, pulling her against him, one hand fisting in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.

Their mouths collided, fierce and bruising — a kiss born of anger, desperation, and a thousand unsaid words.

Zara shoved at him at first, fists pounding his chest — but Lucien took it, absorbed it, anchored her.

And then she broke.

With a small, shattered sound, she clutched at his shoulders and kissed him back, her walls crumbling.

Lucien groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against her mouth.

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her across the room and slamming her back against the cold glass window.

Zara gasped, the shock of it igniting every nerve ending.

Lucien's hands were everywhere — rough, possessive — dragging the shirt off her shoulders, baring her to the night.

He cursed savagely under his breath as he looked at her, like the sight of her physically hurt him.

"My beautiful fucking ruin," he rasped.

And then he dropped to his knees.

Zara cried out as his mouth found her skin — her thighs, her hips, her breasts — biting, licking, devouring like a man starved.

Her body betrayed her completely, arching into him, desperate for more even as her mind screamed for caution.

Too much. Too fast. Too dangerous.

But Lucien's tongue was wicked, relentless, and when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, Zara nearly sobbed.

She fisted his hair, dragging him up to her mouth again, needing him, hating herself for it.

Lucien lifted her in one brutal motion, carrying her to the sleek black couch.

He pinned her down, panting against her mouth, his body shaking.

"I need you," he ground out. "I fucking need you, Zara."

His desperation undid her.

Her legs parted, inviting him in — surrendering.

Lucien didn't hesitate. He tore open his belt, the sound vicious in the quiet room.

Zara braced herself — but when he entered her, it wasn't just brutal. It was devastating.

He moved hard and deep, the rhythm punishing, but there was something raw underneath it — a kind of worship that made tears sting her eyes.

Zara wrapped her legs around him tighter, meeting him thrust for thrust, matching his ferocity with her own.

They shattered together, violent and broken, clawing for something neither of them could name.

Lucien collapsed against her, still inside her, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled and trembling.

But even as his body held hers...Even as his hands gentled...Zara knew:

The real war was just beginning.