CHAPTER 5 THE MAN WHO WON'T STOP

He took a slow step toward her, closing the space between them, heat radiating from his body, snow melting against the warmth of his skin.

“You haven’t asked me why I left Damien’s family,” he murmured.

“Because you don’t want to tell me,” she whispered.

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Elara’s heartbeat stumbled.

“Lucian,” she breathed, “I already look at you differently.”

Something broke in his control

Just a flicker.

But she felt it.

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Carefully.

Slowly.

As if memorizing the shape of her.

Her breath trembled.

Lucian lowered his forehead to hers.

No kisses.

No demand.

Just closeness.

It just aches.

“Elara,” he whispered,

 “you matter more than you think.”

Her fingers lifted hesitant, trembling and touched his jaw.

He inhaled sharply, a sound half pain, half restraint.

Snow drifted around them like falling stars.

“Lucian,” she whispered, “tell me what you’re hiding.”

His eyes closed for a moment.

“The night I walked away from Damien…”

His voice dropped lower.

“I vowed never to take orders again.”

“Orders?” she echoed.

“Especially orders about hurting people who didn’t deserve it.”

Elara’s heart stilled.

“You were working for him,” she whispered.

Lucian’s eyes opened slowly.

“For his family. His father. Damien became worse after I left.”

“Did you… do things for them?” she asked, voice barely a breath.

Lucian stepped back, just enough to meet her eyes fully.

“Yes.”

Snow caught in his dark hair.

His expression was raw, unshielded.

“I’m not a good man, Elara.”

She didn’t flinch.

She didn’t look away.

“You’re good to me.”

Lucian’s breath left him as if she’d struck him.

“Elara,” he rasped, “don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know how to stay away when you do.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Neither spoke.

The night wrapped around them.

The city hummed quietly below.

And then slowly Lucian lifted his hand again.

His thumb brushed her cheek.

Her skin heated instantly.

“Elara.”

He said her name like a vow. Like a warning. Like a man losing a battle with himself.

But before anything more could happen, before the burning closeness snapped

Before the kiss that hovered breathlessly in the space between them…

A faint red dot appeared on the railing beside her hand.

Lucian saw it instantly.

His entire body tensed.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her sharply against his chest.

“Elara. Don’t move.”

Her breath stuttered, fear spiking.

“What…?”

Lucian’s eyes were locked on the railing.

On the tiny red dot.

A laser sight.

A sniper.

Not random.

Not a coincidence.

Damien.

“Elara,” Lucian whispered, voice deadly quiet,

“you’re going back inside. Now.”

Her pulse roared.

“Lucian…”

“I’ll shield you. Just stay close.”

“But what about…?”

“Don’t argue.”

His grip tightened around her hand.

“I’m not losing you.”

He pulled her toward the doors, body angled to block the shot.

Another red flash streaked across the marble.

Damien wasn’t sending a message this time.

He was hunting.

The ballroom lights swallowed them the moment they stepped inside, but Lucian didn’t slow. His hand stayed locked around hers, weaving through the crowd with predatory precision.

“Elara,” he murmured, voice low and controlled despite the danger, “go straight to the north exit. Don’t run. Don’t look back.”

Her chest heaved.

“And you?”

Lucian leaned close his breath brushing her ear, his voice a whisper of steel.

“I’m going to find him.”

Fear surged.

“No! Lucian, he wants you alone. He wants…”

“Elara.”

He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going to let Damien Hale shoot at you and walk away.”

Her stomach twisted painfully.

“You can’t take him alone,” she whispered.

Lucian’s mouth curved dark, cold, unafraid.

“Elara… I don’t need to take him.”

A pause.

“I just need to find where he’s hiding.”

She shook her head, tears threatening.

“Lucian please. Don’t leave me alone.”

He froze.

Her voice trembled again.

“I can’t lose you.”

Something shattered behind his eyes

Not weakness.

Not fear.

Something much more dangerous.

“Elara,” he whispered, thumb brushing her cheek, “you’re not losing me.”

Another pause.

A breath.

A decision.

“I’ll get you to the car first.”

She exhaled shakily.

“Stay close,” he said again, taking her hand with fierce certainty.

As they moved toward the exit, a shadow shifted near the far wall

Someone watching.

Someone moving with intent.

Someone waiting for a signal.

Damien wasn’t alone.

And the trap was only beginning to close.

     

******

The night thickened around them music swelling, shadows tightening, danger threading its fingers through every breath.

Lucian’s grip on Elara’s hand never faltered.

Not once.

Not even when he subtly pushed her behind him as a group of sharply dressed men shifted in their direction.

Not guests.

Not security.

Damien’s men.

They watched her like wolves scenting blood.

Lucian’s voice dipped low.

“Elara. Keep your eyes on me. No one else.”

Her gaze locked to his, clinging to the only safety she had left.

He guided her expertly between tables, past glittering displays, past oblivious guests who laughed and toasted champagne under chandeliers completely unaware that a hunt was unfolding just meters away.

When they reached the corridor leading to the private exit, Lucian pressed her back against the wall, his body close, shielding her from sight.

“Elara,” he murmured, tone firm but gentle, “when I tell you to run, you run.”

She shook her head instantly.

“No. I’m not leaving without you.”

His jaw flexed frustration, fear, something sharper.

“Elara…”

“I mean it.”

Her voice trembled.

“I’m not losing you because of me.”

He stepped closer.

Too close.

Close enough that she could feel his heartbeat a rapid, controlled storm.

“Elara,” he whispered, “you don’t get to risk yourself for me.”

Her hands rose almost on instinct and rested against his chest.

His breath hitched.

“I get to choose,” she whispered back.

For a long, heated moment, neither moved.

His forehead tipped to hers, their breaths mixing.

“Elara…”

Her name came out raw, like it hurt him.

“Asking me not to walk into danger is one thing. But asking me to walk away from you?”

His lips brushed her cheek not a kiss, but devastatingly close.

“I can’t.”

Her pulse thundered.

“Then don’t.”

His hand lifted to her jaw, thumb brushing the curve of her lower lip.

Her breath caught, 

The world narrowed. Every sound faded.

He leaned in. A crash erupted behind them.

Glass exploding.

A gunshot cracking through the hallway.

Lucian’s full body snapped into motion.

He grabbed Elara’s hand and spun her behind him as a bullet ricocheted off the marble inches from where she’d stood.

Damien’s men were here.

Armed.

Closing in.

Lucian shoved a door open with brute force, dragging her through just as another shot tore through the air.

“Down!” he commanded.

She dropped instinctively.

He followed, pinning her safely beneath his body as debris showered around them.

Her heart slammed violently.

Lucian’s breath was hot against her cheek.

“Elara,” he whispered, deadly calm, “are you hurt?”

“N-no,” she breathed.

He exhaled shakily, forehead brushing hers again, this time out of relief, not desire.

“Good. Stay behind me.”

He rose fluidly, pulling her to her feet.

They darted down the service hall a winding corridor meant for staff, not guests.

“Lucian!” she gasped. “They’re right behind…”

“I know.”

His voice sharpened.

“And they won’t catch you.”

Footsteps thundered behind them—heavy, purposeful, echoing off the concrete.

Lucian pushed open a back door and cold winter air blasted against them.

The loading area.

Empty except for a black SUV parked under a flickering streetlamp.

A man stood beside it.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Quiet demeanor.

Not an enemy.

“Marek!” Lucian barked. “Now!”

The man nodded once, opened the rear door, and stepped aside.

Lucian turned to Elara and framed her face with both hands.

“This part is important,” he said quietly but urgently. “You get in the car. Marek drives you straight back to the penthouse. He’s loyal. He’s fast. He knows the safest route.”

Her throat tightened painfully.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Lucian’s jaw clenched.

He looked away for a single second, just one before meeting her eyes again.

“He’s here, Elara.”

His voice was a storm.

“Damien. I felt it the second the first shot missed you.”

Fear surged.

“Lucian please. Don’t go after him alone.”

“Elara…”

His voice broke.

Just a crack.

But she heard it.

Felt it.

He leaned down, his forehead pressing to hers again this time with desperation.

“You are the only thing he wants,” Lucian whispered.

“And that makes you the only leverage he has.”

He pulled back enough to look directly into her eyes.

“If I bring you with me, I lose.”

Her breath shook.

“If he gets you…”

Lucian swallowed, voice roughening.

“I lose more.”

Her eyes burned.

“You won’t lose me,” she whispered fiercely. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

His expression shattered.

Something dark and tender and tortured flickered behind his eyes.

Then slowly, painfully

Lucian let her go.

“Elara,” he murmured, voice like a broken vow, “if anything happens to me…”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He exhaled—soft and tortured.

“Get in the car.”

But as she stepped toward it, a low, mocking voice echoed across the alley:

“Walking away from her, Lucian?

How predictable.”

Elara froze

.

Lucian spun.

And Damien Hale stepped out of the shadows.

Alone.

Unarmed.

Smiling.

The kind of smile that promised ruin.

“Run, Elara,” Lucian murmured.

But Damien’s eyes locked onto hers cold, victorious, certain.

“You run,” he said, “and he dies.”

Lucian’s body coiled like a predator ready to strike.

Elara’s breath broke.

The trap had finally closed.

And the night was far from over.