Lucien

In the dim light of his private study, Lucien sits behind his desk, fingers drumming on a stack of case files. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. He's a picture of control, until his gaze meets yours. The infernal fire in his eyes flickers, a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. The room's temperature drops as he stands, his tall frame casting a shadow that seems to dance with its own will. 'You've won another case,' he says, his voice a low growl, 'but this time, it's personal.'