Episode Nine: Safehouse Sins
1198 Words
Lucien drove like a man with nothing left to lose.
The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and red as the black Jaguar cut through the night. Aria sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in one of his leather jackets, still shaken from Rafael’s betrayal. Her heart beat too loud in her ears, but her eyes stayed locked on the road ahead.
Neither of them had spoken since they left the penthouse in flames.
“I have to disappear for a while,” Lucien finally said, his voice low and hoarse.
Aria turned to him. “Then I’m disappearing with you.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand what that means.”
“I do. It means going dark. Off the grid. It means running from people who want to kill us. And it means being stuck with a man who keeps pretending he doesn’t want me.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t want you.”
She leaned closer. “Then why did you look like you were going to kill Rafael for laying a hand on me?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
⸻
The safehouse was a remote estate tucked into the Colorado mountains, hidden behind coded gates and snowy pines. It was the kind of place no one stumbled upon — the kind built for ghosts and men with enemies.
Lucien led Aria inside, scanning every shadow. His right hand never strayed far from the gun tucked in his coat.
She wandered through the main room — high ceilings, old fireplaces, the smell of cedar and ash. It was beautiful in a way that felt forgotten. Empty, like him.
“This used to be my mother’s,” he said quietly. “Before everything turned to ash.”
Aria walked toward him, standing in the dim light. “Then let’s make new memories here.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking.”
She reached up and touched his jaw.
“I want to touch the broken parts of you. The ones no one else dares to see.”
He stared at her like she was both salvation and sin.
And then he broke.
Lucien kissed her like he’d bled for the right. His mouth was bruising, his hands rough, yanking her body against his as if needing to brand her into his skin. He slammed her back against the old wooden beam, the chill of the room forgotten.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growled against her neck.
Aria gasped as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Then show me.”
⸻
He carried her through the cabin like a man possessed.
Clothes vanished along the way — her shirt ripped, his belt undone, her panties torn aside with a growl that made her body ignite.
Lucien dropped her onto the bed and hovered above, every inch of him carved in hunger.
“You drive me mad,” he whispered, fingers trailing down her thighs. “I should be planning our escape, but all I want is to bury myself inside you.”
“Then stop talking and do it,” Aria said, voice breathless.
Lucien smirked — dark and sinful.
“Careful what you wish for, princess.”
He pushed inside her in one deep thrust that made her cry out, arching into him. He grunted, forehead pressed against hers, both of them trembling.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “Every breath, every moan — belongs to me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yours.”
He made love like a man at war — hard, slow, deep — punishing her body until she clawed at his shoulders, begging for more. And when she came, it was a scream against his mouth, a violent release that shattered the last of her control.
Lucien followed with a groan so raw it made her eyes sting.
They collapsed, breathless.
But the moment didn’t last.
Because Lucien’s phone buzzed — the secure line only three people in the world had.
He answered. “What is it?”
A beat.
Then his voice dropped.
“When?”
Aria sat up.
Lucien’s face went pale.
“They found the safehouse.”
⸻
He paced the room after the call, naked and furious.
“How?” Aria whispered.
“Maddox must’ve had a trace on Rafael. I underestimated how fast they’d move.”
“Then we need to go.”
Lucien grabbed his jeans and a gun. “We can’t. Storm’s closing in. Helicopter can’t reach us till dawn.”
Aria stood, wrapped in a blanket, watching him like she was memorizing his every move.
“You’re scared,” she said quietly.
Lucien stopped. “Not for me. For you.”
“Then trust me to fight.”
He stared at her — really looked.
“You’re not the same girl I met in that club.”
Aria stepped forward, dropping the blanket.
“No. I’m the woman who would burn this world down for you.”
Lucien reached for her like she was his last prayer.
But before he could speak—
Glass shattered downstairs.
They both froze.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“Like hell.”
⸻
The attack was brutal.
Two armed men breached the door, and Lucien took one down with a clean headshot. Aria grabbed a knife and fought like she’d done this before — maybe she had, in some forgotten childhood shaped by secrets.
The second attacker cornered her in the hallway.
She slashed him across the face and screamed.
Lucien tackled the man seconds later, slamming his head into the wall until the crunch of bone silenced the fight.
Aria stood trembling, covered in blood.
Lucien grabbed her face, panting. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just pissed.”
He stared at her.
Then laughed.
Dark. Broken. Relieved.
“You’re f*****g perfect.”
⸻
They cleaned up in silence.
Aria stood under the shower as hot water turned pink around her feet. Lucien joined her, silent, eyes heavy.
He pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve killed men before,” he said. “But never felt anything after.”
“And now?”
Lucien kissed her shoulder. “Now I feel everything.”
She turned to face him.
“Tell me what’s next.”
Lucien hesitated.
Then: “Genevieve’s ledger. Maddox is laundering hundreds of millions through a fake charity. It’s all connected to the studio where she painted.”
“And you think it’s still there?”
“It has to be. If we find it, we bring him down.”
Aria nodded.
“Then let’s go hunting.”
As the storm raged outside the cabin, a black SUV sat parked a mile away.
Inside it, Maddox lit another cigar.
“She survived again,” he muttered.
The passenger beside him — the same mystery woman with red lips — held up a photo.
Aria.
Taken ten years ago.
In a hospital room.
“She doesn’t know who she really is,” the woman said. “But soon… she will.”
- Writer
