CHAPTER 37
The sharp London rain didn't deter Lux — from prowling the cobblestone streets like a storm herself. Her eyes glittered with a wild mix of satisfaction and rage as she replayed the encounter with Pen over and over in her mind.
That slip — the careless mention of London. That one word, almost drowned beneath Pen's defensiveness, had set off a fuse Lux hadn't realized was so dry.
"You little bitch," Lux whispered fiercely, shaking her head as she ducked beneath the awning of a café. "You're giving me everything I need."
Within hours, she was airborne again, crossing the Atlantic with a fury that melted into excitement. London was a maze, a puzzle she intended to solve.
She scoured the city, tracing every whisper, every thread of information she could squeeze from underbelly contacts, social circles, and the odd late-night talk at smoky bars.
The breakthrough came at dusk, when a tucked-away antique bookstore came into view. The sign was subtle — "Wrenford's Antiquarian & Rare"
Lux's pulse hit a quick beat. This was it.
She circled the block, watched the place for a moment — windows aglow, faint music filtering into the chill air. Then, she slipped inside through a side door left slightly ajar.
Inside, the warm scent of old paper and vanilla candles wrapped around her like a soft cloak. Near the back, Vivienne — no, Alexine — was laughing quietly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear while carefully sliding a fresh batch of pastries into a basket.
Across from her, Daphne moved with easy grace, chopping vegetables, her smile tender and genuine as she glanced at Viv.
For a heartbeat, Lux's mind reeled. They looked so domestic — so impossibly normal — like a picture of peace she wanted to shatter.
And shatter it she would.
The bell above the bookstore door chimed — that small, brittle sound that usually meant a quiet afternoon sale was about to happen.
Instead, it was Lux Donnelly standing in the doorway, framed by the bright summer light. Her black dress was tailored to perfection, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched on her head like she'd just come from somewhere far more glamorous than this street. That smile — lazy, crooked, and predatory — was aimed straight at Viv.
"Well, well, if it isn't Alexine," she purred, drawing out the syllables like a cat toying with yarn. "Long time no see."
Her gaze slid over to Daphne, lingering a beat too long. "And you must be the step sister Daphne. How... quaint to meet you again."
Viv didn't move from behind the counter, her hands still resting on the basket. Only her eyes lifted — flat, unreadable, the kind of look that used to make enemies fold in interrogation rooms. "Can I help you with something?"
Daphne's voice came in, cool and steady. "Who exactly are you here to see?"
Lux's smile sharpened. "Oh, I think you know."
Viv put the pastries with deliberate slowness. "Who you're looking for isn't here."
For a moment, Lux's grin widened — and then it dropped entirely. She stepped closer, boots whispering against the worn wood floor. Her perfume — expensive, heavy, and just faintly sweet — curled into the air between them.
"You can drop the act, Vivienne," she said, the name like a blade unsheathed. "I know exactly who you are. And I know about the little arrangement you've got with your... girlfriend here." She let her eyes cut to Daphne, letting the word girlfriend drip with mockery.
Lux's fingers brushed over the edge of a display table as she circled it, her nails tapping once against the wood — a small, deliberate sound. "Step-sister, was it? Such a convincing charade. You must've had fun rehearsing that one."
Daphne didn't flinch. Her green eyes tracked Lux with a predator's patience, one hand resting casually against the counter, close to Viv's. The two women weren't touching, but Lux could see the alignment — a silent wall between her and Viv.
Lux's chest tightened, though she masked it with a smirk. She guards her like she's worth dying for.
So Lux switched tactics. She leaned an elbow on the counter, tilting her head toward Daphne, lowering her voice just enough to turn it into something intimate, poisonous.
"You know," Lux murmured, "in prison, Viv and I... we had our moments. The kind you don't forget. Cold nights, thin blankets... sometimes you just have to share warmth. Cuddles turn into... other things." She let her eyes flick to Viv's face, hunting for even the smallest crack in composure. "You'd be surprised how close you can get in a place like that."
Viv's expression didn't move. Daphne's, if anything, softened — not with belief, but with a kind of faint amusement that made Lux's pulse spike in irritation.
"Hmm," Daphne said evenly. "Sounds like you were cold a lot."
Lux's jaw flexed before she could stop it. She straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve, her smile back in place but thinner.
"Well," she said, stepping back toward the door, "this isn't over. I'll be seeing you both."
Her hand lingered on the brass handle for a second too long. She glanced over her shoulder — not at Daphne, but at Viv — and the look in her eyes was a promise and a warning all at once.
Then she was gone, the chime above the door jangling sharply in her wake.
Viv exhaled slowly, her fingers drumming once against the table. Daphne reached over and lightly touched Viv's wrist, a silent tether pulling her back from whatever shadow Lux had tried to drag her into.
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