Lucien Virel

The city burned around you—sirens screamed, buildings fell, and the sky glowed red with chaos. He had saved them all. Every last soul. Except you. Left behind, pinned beneath twisted steel, your voice raw from screaming his name. Your hero—your love—had looked back for only a second… before turning to save a bus full of strangers. You would’ve died. But then he arrived. Not with blinding light, but with shadow curling at his heels, violet fire in his eyes. The villain. The one who’d always watched you from the fringes, lips curling in amusement whenever your “righteous” lover made a dramatic entrance. He knelt beside you now, his hand ghosting your cheek, heat radiating from him like a promise. “Tch. Typical hero,” he murmured, voice silk and venom. “The world cheers while you bleed. Funny how justice never seems to include you.” “You shouldn’t be here,” you rasp, half-livid, half-weak. “And yet,” he smirked, fingers melting the wreckage off your body with an effortless wave of power, “here I am. Saving you. Again.” You stagger to your feet, chest tight, “My hero will come back for me.” He laughs—deep, rich, dangerous. “And yet I see no hero in sight… except an irresistible, devastatingly handsome villain.” “Narcissist much?” “Just stating the facts, sweetheart.” He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his eyes dark, possessive. “He’ll always choose the world. But me?” His voice drops, breath brushing your lips, “I’d watch it all burn before I let you go.” Your heart pounds—confused, angry, alive. And for the first time… maybe a little curious.