When The Lights Died
1120 Words
The penthouse went black.
Not dim.
Not flickering.
Dead.
Manhattan vanished behind the glass walls like the storm had swallowed the entire city whole.
Ivy stopped breathing.
For one sharp second, all she could hear was rain.
Then—
A metallic sound echoed somewhere inside the darkness.
A door opening.
Lucien moved instantly.
“Don’t move.”
His voice cut through the dark like a blade.
Low.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Ivy’s pulse exploded.
“What the hell is happening?” she whispered.
No answer.
Another sound.
Closer this time.
Footsteps.
Not Lucien’s.
Someone else was inside the penthouse.
Fear crashed through her chest.
The office suddenly felt massive and suffocating at the same time. Her eyes struggled against the darkness while lightning flashed outside the windows in violent silver bursts.
A silhouette appeared briefly near the entrance.
Tall.
Armed.
Then gone again.
Lucien cursed softly under his breath.
It was the first real emotion she’d heard from him all night.
That terrified her more than the blackout.
The predator was nervous.
Which meant the thing entering this room was worse.
Ivy stepped backward instinctively.
Her leg hit the desk.
The silver voice recorder slid across the mahogany surface and crashed onto the floor.
The sound shattered the silence.
Everything stopped.
Then—
Gunfire exploded through the penthouse.
Glass shattered somewhere beyond the office walls.
Ivy screamed.
A hand grabbed her violently.
Lucien.
He pulled her down behind the desk just as another gunshot tore through the darkness above them.
Wood splintered.
Her ears rang instantly.
“What the—”
“Quiet.”
His body pressed against hers in the dark.
Hard.
Warm.
Dangerously close.
Ivy’s breath became uneven.
The smell of bourbon and smoke surrounded him. Expensive. Masculine. Wrongly comforting.
Another gunshot echoed through the penthouse.
Closer.
Lucien’s arm tightened around her waist.
Not gentle.
Protective.
Possessive.
Like he’d already decided she belonged behind him.
“Stay down,” he murmured near her ear.
His voice remained calm.
Too calm.
Like violence was familiar to him.
Like this wasn’t the first time bullets entered his home.
Ivy’s heartbeat slammed painfully against her ribs. “Who’s shooting at us?”
Lucien looked toward the office entrance.
Lightning flashed again.
For half a second she saw his face.
Cold.
Focused.
Predatory.
Then darkness swallowed him again.
“Not us,” he said quietly.
Ice slid down her spine.
“They’re here for you.”
Another gunshot shattered the wall beside them.
Ivy flinched hard against him.
Lucien grabbed her jaw suddenly.
Firm fingers.
Controlled pressure.
“Listen carefully.”
The authority in his voice froze her instantly.
“When I tell you to run, you don’t look back.”
Her pulse stumbled.
“What about you?”
A strange smile touched his mouth in the dark.
“People usually worry about surviving me, Ivy.”
The way he said her name—
Soft.
Intimate.
Dangerous.
It did something awful to her stomach.
A loud crash exploded somewhere deeper inside the penthouse.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Coming closer.
Lucien stood smoothly from behind the desk.
Without panic.
Without hesitation.
Like a king rising for war.
Ivy grabbed his wrist before she could stop herself.
“Wait—”
He looked down at her hand wrapped around him.
The room went still again.
Even the storm outside seemed quieter suddenly.
Lucien’s eyes lowered slowly to her fingers.
Then back to her face.
Something dark shifted in his expression.
Not annoyance.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Possession.
“You should let go of me,” he said softly.
But he didn’t move away.
Ivy released him instantly.
Heat crawled into her cheeks.
Why was she reacting like this now?
This man was dangerous.
Possibly evil.
And yet every second near him felt like standing too close to fire knowing she should step back but refusing to move.
The office doors burst open.
A masked man stormed inside with a gun raised.
Everything happened at once.
Lucien moved faster than human.
One second he stood beside the desk.
The next—
Violence.
Brutal.
Efficient.
He grabbed the attacker’s wrist, twisted sharply, and the sickening crack of bone filled the office.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
The masked man screamed.
Lucien slammed him against the wall hard enough to dent the marble.
Ivy stared in horror.
No wasted movement.
No panic.
Lucien fought like someone who had done this too many times before.
The attacker tried reaching for another weapon.
Lucien drove the broken whiskey bottle from the desk straight into the man’s shoulder.
Blood splattered across white marble.
The scream that followed barely sounded human.
Ivy stumbled backward.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Lucien didn’t even breathe hard.
Rain flashed silver across his face as he held the man against the wall.
Cold eyes.
Empty eyes.
Predator eyes.
“Who sent you?” Lucien asked calmly.
The attacker spat blood.
Lucien sighed almost lazily before twisting the glass deeper.
The man screamed again.
Ivy felt sick.
“Oh my God—”
Lucien glanced at her briefly.
And somehow that was scarier than the violence itself.
Because his expression changed when he looked at her.
Softer.
Not kind.
Never kind.
But controlled.
Like he was hiding the worst parts of himself now.
For her.
The attacker laughed weakly through blood.
“You think she’s safe with you?” he coughed.
Lucien’s entire body stilled.
The room became deadly quiet.
Even the storm seemed afraid.
The masked man looked toward Ivy.
“She has no idea what you really are.”
Lucien pulled the broken bottle free slowly.
Blood hit the marble floor.
Then he leaned closer to the attacker.
“What she knows,” he said quietly, “depends on how long you stay alive.”
The elevator alarm suddenly beeped outside the office.
More people were coming.
Lucien’s gaze sharpened instantly.
He looked toward Ivy.
Decision moved behind his eyes.
Fast.
Calculating.
Terrifyingly intelligent.
Then he walked toward her slowly through the darkness and shattered glass.
Blood stained one cuff of his black suit.
He stopped inches away.
Too close.
Way too close.
Ivy’s pulse spiraled out of control.
Lucien reached into his coat.
Her body tensed instantly.
Instead of a weapon—
He pulled out a sleek black phone.
Her phone.
The one containing every recording and file against him.
“You broke into my empire tonight,” he murmured.
Lightning illuminated his face again.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
“Now someone is trying to kill you before you leave it.”
Another elevator beep echoed outside.
Closer.
Lucien’s eyes locked onto hers.
“You don’t belong to your old life anymore, Ivy.”
Then he deleted every file she had against him right in front of her.
- Writer
