Consciousness returned to Lucifer in fragments.

  Pain arrived first.

  A slow pounding behind his eyes, as if memory itself refused to wake with him.

  He opened them.

  The ceiling above him was unfamiliar — pale, smooth, almost clinical.

  He tried to sit up.

  Metal answered him.

  Cold cuffs held his wrists against the sides of a narrow bed. Leather restraints secured his ankles firmly in place.

  He pulled once.

  Harder the second time.

  Nothing moved.

  A faint smell lingered in the air. Antiseptic. Clean. Controlled.

  And beneath it—

  perfume.

  Lucifer turned his head.

  Someone sat across the room near a tall window.

  A woman.

  Leg crossed calmly over the other.

  Watching him.

  Not surprised.

  Not impatient.

  As if she had been waiting long before he woke.

  “Who are you?” Lucifer asked, his voice dry.

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “That’s rude,” she said softly. “Forgetting someone so quickly.”

  She leaned forward.

  Light touched her face.

  Recognition struck like cold water.

  “…Jessica.”

  Jake’s sister.

  Memory surged.

  The auction hall.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Masked faces.

  The final bid.

  Her voice.

  Her eyes studying him as though choosing something valuable.

  Fear settled quietly inside his chest.

  Reserve Forest

  Detective Homes entered the forest alone.

  His assistant remained outside with the vehicles, waiting for backup as instructed.

  Homes preferred silence.

  Wet leaves cracked softly beneath measured steps. Rainwater clung to branches overhead, dripping slowly onto the earth.

  The forest felt wrong.

  Too still.

  He stopped.

  Not because he heard something.

  Because instinct told him to.

  Movement shifted behind him.

  He stepped aside.

  Something heavy cut through the air where his head had been.

  Two men emerged from the shadows.

  No hesitation.

  No warning.

  Homes studied them calmly.

  Almost disappointed.

  He reached into his coat and removed a cigarette.

  “Do either of you,” he asked mildly, “have a lighter?”

  They exchanged confused looks.

  “No.”

  Homes nodded once.

  Lit it himself.

  Smoke filled his lungs slowly.

  Gunshot.

  The first man collapsed instantly.

  Before the second could react, Homes moved.

  No wasted motion.

  A blade slipped into his hand from inside his sleeve.

  One precise movement.

  The man fell at his feet.

  Blood spread across damp leaves.

  Homes stood still for a moment.

  Smoke drifted upward between them.

  No anger.

  No triumph.

  Routine.

  He lowered the cigarette and crushed it against the fallen man’s chest where blood soaked through fabric.

  A faint hiss.

  The smoke died.

  Homes adjusted his coat calmly.

  Ahead—

  through fog and branches—

  stood the mansion.

  Waiting.

  The door opened before he touched it.

  For a brief second memory replaced reality.

  The same entrance.

  The same silence.

  A man standing before him years ago.

  A calm voice echoing faintly.

  “You have class.”

  The glimpse vanished.

  Homes stepped inside.

  Back To Lucifer

  Jessica rose slowly.

  “If revenge were my intention,” she said quietly, “you would still be in the auction.”

  She began walking toward him.

  Unhurried.

  Each step deliberate.

  Lucifer pulled instinctively against the restraints.

  Metal answered him again.

  Useless.

  She removed her gloves first.

  They fell beside the bed.

  Then the bracelet at her wrist.

  Metal touched the floor softly.

  She did not stop moving.

  Her coat slipped from her shoulders and landed behind her, forgotten.

  She didn’t seem to notice.

  Didn’t seem to care.

  The calmness unsettled him more than anger ever could.

  “Jessica… what are you doing?”

  She gave no answer.

  She stood beside the bed now.

  Too close.

  Close enough that he could feel warmth from her presence.

  Her fingers lifted his chin.

  Not gently.

  Not cruelly.

  Simply deciding where he should look.

  Her eyes searched his face carefully.

  As if comparing him to something only she remembered.

  “You don’t remember,” she whispered.

  Lucifer’s chest tightened.

  Something about the way she had abandoned every layer of formality before coming near him made his stomach twist.

  What is she doing…?

  A colder thought followed.

  Why would she come here like this…?

  Why remove everything just to stand in front of me?

  Unease crept beneath his skin.

  What kind of reward is this supposed to be…?

  Fear replaced confusion.

  This isn’t right.

  Before he could turn away, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  Sudden.

  Her hand moved into his hair, holding the back of his head firmly in place.

  Lip against lip.

  Cold.

  Unavoidable.

  Lucifer’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.

  He tried to pull back instinctively, but the restraints stopped him.

  His breathing turned uneven.

  There was no warmth in it.

  No hesitation.

  Only certainty.

  Why…?

  What does she want from me?

  For the first time since waking, the restraints didn’t feel like the worst part.

  Not understanding her did.

  Jessica pulled away slowly.

  Her expression remained calm.

  “You changed more than you know, Lucifer.”

  Only then did he understand.

  The auction had not been rescue.

  It had been selection.