Chapter 175: Chapter 175: The Hollow

THE WEDDING DRESS had become a prison.

Four hours into Grayson’s disappearance, Mailah finally couldn’t take it anymore. The beautiful silk that had made her feel like a bride now felt like a costume mocking her with its optimism. Every rustle of fabric reminded her of what should have happened. Every glimpse of white in her peripheral vision made her think, for one agonizing second, that she was still supposed to be walking down an aisle.

“I need to change,” she announced to no one in particular.

The living room of the villa had become crisis headquarters. Grayson’s brothers occupied various positions around the space—Lucson standing near the window, backlit by fading afternoon light, Mason pacing with predatory restlessness, Ravenson seated but radiating tension, Carson sprawled in a chair with deceptive casualness that didn’t match the tight set of his jaw.

They all looked up when she spoke.

“Finally,” Mason muttered. “That dress was getting depressing.”

“Mason,” Lucson said sharply.

“What? It’s true. She looks like a ghost.”

“I feel like a ghost,” Mailah said, already moving toward the stairs. “Give me ten minutes.”

She took seven.

The jeans and sweater felt like shedding a skin—practical, comfortable, battle-ready. She’d kept the hairpin Grayson had given her, though. The one with the blue stone. It felt important somehow, like maintaining a physical connection to him even though whatever link between them had gone frustratingly quiet.

Where are you? she thought desperately, sending the question along that invisible thread. Please tell me you can feel me.

Nothing.

Just that same maddening silence that suggested either he was unconscious, too far away, or deliberately blocked by whoever had taken him.

When she returned to the living room, Carson was on his phone, speaking in rapid Italian to someone on the other end. He hung up as she entered, his expression grim.

“Varrow’s confirmed,” he announced. “Multiple witnesses place him at his estate all day. Unless he’s learned to be in two places at once—which, granted, isn’t impossible but seems unlikely—he’s innocent.”

“For now,” Mason added darkly.

“For now,” Carson agreed. “Though I have to admit, kidnapping a groom on his wedding day doesn’t feel like Varrow’s style. Too subtle. He’d want everyone to know it was him.”

Mailah’s hands clenched into fists. Hours. They’d been searching for hours, and every lead had evaporated. The Council representatives had departed after Liora’s hasty explanations, though their parting words suggested they’d be “monitoring the situation closely.” Which was code for “if this gets messier, we’re intervening.”

Oliver and Elin had combed through security footage from the venue—what little existed that wasn’t magically obscured.

And Grayson remained gone.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Mailah said. “Someone we haven’t considered.”

“We’ve considered everyone,” Ravenson said quietly. His usual heavy presence felt subdued, almost… worried. Which was disturbing coming from a demon who fed on conflict and despair. “Every enemy Grayson’s made in three centuries. Every rival. Every entity with a grudge.”

“What about allies?” Mailah asked. “What if it’s someone he trusted? That would explain how they got past the wards.”

“We’ve been through this,” Mason said with barely controlled frustration. “His circle is small. Us. You. A handful of others who have no motive.”

“Then we’re looking in the wrong places.” Mailah’s voice rose despite her efforts to stay calm. “Someone took him. Someone powerful enough to bypass supernatural defenses and skilled enough to leave no trace. That’s not random. That’s personal.”

“We know,” Lucson said. His tone remained level, but Mailah could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands rested too precisely at his sides—control maintained through sheer willpower. “But personal could mean thousands of possibilities across three centuries.”

Mailah’s mind raced, cycling through everything she knew about Grayson’s past. The feeding. The abstinence. The previous marriages that had all ended in either death or separation. The brothers and their exile. The genocide that had gotten them banished in the first place.

Still…

“What about The Hollow?” Mailah asked before she could second-guess herself.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Four sets of eyes turned to her with an intensity that made her instinctively step back.

“What?” Lucson’s voice came out dangerously soft. “What did you just say?”

“The Hollow,” Mailah repeated, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “What does it have to do with—”

“How do you know that name?” Mason interrupted, moving closer with movements that suggested predator rather than man. “Who told you about The Hollow?”

“I—” Mailah looked around the room, suddenly aware of how alone she was with four powerful demon brothers.

Elin and Oliver had stayed away with Lucien, citing “too many demons in one space” as their excuse.

She had no backup. Just herself and four ancient demons who were looking at her like she’d just revealed state secrets.

“Grayson told me,” she said finally.

Silence.

Then Carson laughed—sharp and humorless. “Oh, did he now? Our brother shared information about The Hollow with his human bride? That’s either touching trust or catastrophic judgment.”

“I got a call,” she said finally. “Weeks ago. An unknown number. A distorted voice.” The memory made her skin crawl even now. “They said, ’Tell Grayson the Hollow remembers.’ Then they warned me to stay out of his shadow.”

The brothers went very still.

“When exactly was this?” Lucson’s voice had gone dangerously soft.

“After Grayson’s first full feeding. After he helped Kieran with whatever favor he owed.” Mailah wrapped her arms around herself. “Grayson said it was connected to Kieran’s clients. That he’d shielded Kieran’s business, erased names, kept certain entities from learning who the clients really were.”

“And he told you this was about business rivals,” Mason said flatly. “About angering dangerous people.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“And he mentioned The Hollow specifically?”

“Yes. He said…” She tried to remember his exact words. “He said it was a place. Or maybe an organization? He wasn’t clear.”

The brothers exchanged glances—communication happening on levels Mailah couldn’t access but could definitely feel the weight of.

“This changes things,” Mason said quietly.

“Does it?” Carson leaned forward. “The Hollow hasn’t been relevant in centuries.”

“I don’t understand,” Mailah said. “What is The Hollow? Why does it matter?”

Lucson turned to face her fully. “The Hollow isn’t a place. It’s a network of dangerous beings.” His jaw tightened.

The implications crashed over Mailah like a wave.

“Do you think they were the ones who took him?”

“We don’t know that yet. There’s a possibility,” Ravenson corrected.

Mailah’s head spun.

She felt her knees weaken. She sat down hard on the nearest chair, her mind racing through every implication.

If The Hollow had taken Grayson then they should bring him back.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“We figure out if The Hollow took him,” Lucson said.

“I’ll do the work,” Ravenson said quietly.

Mailah’s chest tightened with frustration so fierce it bordered on violent. “What do I do?”

“You stay here and wait,” Carson answered.

I don’t want to sit and wait.” Mailah met each brother’s eyes in turn. “Whatever it is, I want to help find Grayson.”

Something flickered across Lucson’s face—surprise, maybe, or respect.

“You understand what we might be all up against,” he said. “If it’s The Hollow that took him, it will be very dangerous, especially to you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care. You’re human. You’re fragile. You’ll be collateral damage at best.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Mailah stood, squaring her shoulders despite the fear coursing through her. “Grayson is out there somewhere. He might be in danger. And I’m supposed to sit and wait because it’s dangerous to help?”

“It’s not just dangerous,” Mason said. “It’s suicide.”

“Then I’ll die.” The words came out with absolute certainty. “But I’ll die trying to get him back. Because that’s what love means. Not giving up when it gets hard. Not walking away when the odds are impossible.” She looked at each of them. “And if you four actually care about your brother at all, you’ll let me help.”

Silence pressed down on the room.

Then, unexpectedly, Ravenson smiled. “You’ve become much more interesting.”

“She’s going to get us all killed,” Mason said.

“Probably,” Carson agreed. “But it’ll be entertaining.”

Lucson studied Mailah for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded. “All right. We’ll let you help. But you need to understand—if The Hollow or someone else even more powerful has him, this isn’t just a rescue mission. This is war.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Because once we start this, there’s no going back. The life you imagined with Grayson—the quiet domesticity, the human marriage, the pretending he’s something he’s not—that’s over. If we bring him back, if we survive what’s coming, everything changes.”

Mailah thought of Grayson’s note from that morning. Today, you become mine and I become yours. Not because of tradition or ritual or supernatural law. But because we choose it.

She’d chosen him. He’d chosen her. And she’d be damned if some supernatural abductor with a grudge got to undo that.

“Then everything changes,” she said.

“Very well,” Lucson agreed. He extended his hand.

Mailah shook it, feeling the supernatural power in his grip, the weight of centuries of existence, the absolute commitment he was offering.

One by one, the other brothers added their hands to the gesture—Mason, Carson, Ravenson. A pact formed in that moment, witnessed by whatever forces governed supernatural oaths.

“We’re going to get him back,” Mailah said.

“We’re going to try,” Lucson corrected. “But first, we need to understand exactly what they would want from Grayson.”

Lucson’s smile held no warmth.

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