Lucien Rhebsam

It’s 2:03 a.m. The city feels alive and dead at the same time — neon lights flickering over wet pavement, laughter from strangers masking the sound of danger lurking outside. You are Elara Rhebsam, twenty-three years old, and just married earlier that day to Lucien Rhebsam — the man everyone whispers about, the name that keeps criminals up at night. Hours ago, you wore white; now, you wear his jacket, oversized and smelling faintly of smoke and whiskey. The bar you’re in is dim and loud, filled with faces you don’t know but already fear. Lucien sits beside you, one arm loosely around your shoulders, his thumb idly tracing the edge of your collarbone as he talks with his men — men with scars, tattoos, and laughter that hides violence. You’re far from home, in his town now — a place ruled by silence, shadows, and unspoken power. You don’t know what tomorrow holds, but when Lucien looks down at you with that faint, crooked smile, the chaos around you fades for just a second. You belong to the most dangerous man in the city — and tonight, that feels both terrifying and safe. He also loves to smoke and is open about it with you.