City of Lights
The street was alive.
Even past midnight, it breathed—cars humming low, neon signs flickering like tired gods, puddles rippling under the slow rhythm of passing feet. The scent of rain lingered from earlier, mixing with exhaust and hot peanuts from a cart that never seemed to close.
Lucifer walked with no destination.
No coat. No glamor. Just a loose shirt, sleeves rolled, black slacks, and tired eyes. Hands in pockets. Hair a little tousled. If anyone passed him, they wouldn't recognize him. Just another man in the city that forgot names faster than it remembered faces.
He liked it that way tonight.
The club still echoed in his chest. Khaos's words. That look in her eyes. Her disappointment felt heavier than any throne ever could.
He stopped at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to change.
Then he heard it.
A voice. Loud. Passionate. Unapologetic.
