Chapter 257: Chapter 257: The Fire

“STAY BEHIND ME, SHADOW,” Mailah whispered, though she knew the cat was the one leading the way.

The smoke didn’t smell like a normal wood fire. This was different. It was sharp and metallic that made the hair on her arms stand up.

Shadow didn’t look like a normal cat anymore. In the dim hallway, her amber eyes weren’t just reflecting light—they were glowing with a steady, inner flame. She padded silently across the floor, her tail twitching in a rhythmic, warning beat.

Mailah’s phone flashlight cut a narrow path through the haze.

She reached the library doors—the heavy, mahogany slabs that usually felt like an impenetrable fortress. One of them was slightly ajar, and a thin, wispy finger of grey smoke was curling out from the crack.

Mailah took a deep breath.

Grayson had told her to stay in her room. He had looked truly afraid when he said it. But after that kiss in the dream—after seeing the blue-eyed man beneath the dark-eyed Prince—she couldn’t just hide under her covers.

If the house was burning, she was going to be the one holding the bucket. Or at least the one asking where the bucket was.

She pushed the door open.

The library was a mess. It looked as if a small, localized lightning storm had decided to have a party in the center of the room.

The beautiful, hand-woven Persian rug was now a charred circle of soot. Several books had flown off the shelves and were scattered like fallen birds.

And in the middle of it all stood the brothers.

Mason was holding a soot-stained fire extinguisher like it was a toy.

Lucson was fastidiously wiping a smudge of ash off his silk lapel, looking deeply offended by the state of his surroundings.

Ravenson was staring at the floor, his massive arms crossed, while Carson was fanning the air with a leather-bound edition of The Divine Comedy.

And Grayson.

He was standing nearest to the wall safe, which was still closed but glowing with a faint, pulsing orange light.

His shirt was unbuttoned even further than before, and there was a streak of black soot across his cheekbone that, quite unfairly, only made him look more handsome.

“Did we… did we miss a spot?” Carson asked, his voice cracking the silence.

“I think we got the worst of it,” Mason rumbled. “But your ceiling is going to need a new coat of paint.”

Mailah stepped fully into the light. “What happened? Is the Sigil safe?”

The reaction was instantaneous.

All five brothers snapped their heads toward her. It was like watching five predators realize a very small, very loud bird had just flown into their den.

Grayson’s eyes, still shimmering with that intense light from the dream, narrowed.

“Mailah. I believe I gave you a very specific instruction.”

Mailah didn’t back down. She crossed her arms, ignoring the fact that she was currently wearing a giant t-shirt with a “Tacocat” on it.

“And I believe I’m the one who just saved your soul in a lemon grove. My room was vibrating, Grayson. The floor was literally humining. You can’t tell me to stay in bed when the house is trying to melt.”

Shadow let out a loud, supportive meow and walked over to Grayson, sniffing at the soot on his boots with a look of deep disapproval.

Grayson let out a long, frustrated sigh. He rubbed his temples, looking less like a Prince and more like a man who had a very long night and a very stubborn girlfriend. “It wasn’t a fire. Not exactly.”

“Then why does it smell like a burnt toaster in here?” Mailah asked, stepping closer. She looked at the safe. The pulsing light was rhythmic, like a heartbeat. “Did someone try to steal it? Was it Valerius?”

Lucson and Mason shared a look—the kind of look brothers share when they’re deciding whether to tell a secret or lie through their teeth.

They chose the latter.

“Just a bit of… atmospheric pressure,” Lucson said smoothly, though he was still frantically cleaning his sleeve. “The Sigil is quite old. It’s settling into its new environment.”

“Don’t lie to her, Luc,” Carson piped up, ignoring the glares from his older brothers. He tossed the book onto a table and walked over to Mailah, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “She’s already seen us fight. I think she can handle the truth about an artifact.”

“Carson,” Ravenson warned, his voice like rolling thunder.

“Oh, hush, Raven. She’s going to find out anyway when the library floor turns into lava,” Carson retorted. He turned back to Mailah, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The Sigil isn’t acting up because of an ’environment.’ It’s acting up because of him.”

He pointed a finger directly at Grayson.

Mailah looked from Carson to Grayson. He looked like he wanted to drop Carson into the nearest dungeon.

“What do you mean?” Mailah asked.

“The Ember Sigil has an owner,” Carson explained, ignoring Grayson’s mounting fury. “It’s been locked in a glass box in a museum for centuries. It was cold. It was dormant. It was basically a paperweight. But now? Now it’s back in its owner’s home. And it’s six feet away from Grayson.”

“It’s an extension of his power,” Lucson added, giving up on his sleeve and sighing. “It’s like a battery that has been disconnected for three hundred years and suddenly finds itself next to the charger. It’s… enthusiastic.”

“It’s not enthusiastic,” Grayson snapped. “It’s volatile.”

“Same thing,” Carson said with a shrug. “The point is, the Sigil knows its master is nearby. It’s trying to reach out to him. It’s trying to be released. Every time Grayson’s pulse goes up too fast—say, for example, if he’s having a very intense dream—the Sigil reacts. It sends out a surge of energy.”

Mailah felt the heat rise in her cheeks. A surge of energy when his pulse goes up? She thought back to the kiss in the dream. The way Grayson had groaned into her hair. The way he had held her. If the Sigil was reacting to that, it was no wonder the library rug had caught fire.

“So, nobody tried to touch it?” Mailah asked, trying to sound professional while her brain was screaming about the dream-kiss.

“No one had to,” Carson said. “The Ember is reaching to its owner. It’s like a loyal dog that’s been trapped in a kennel and just heard its owner’s voice. It’s trying to break through the safe to get to him.”

Mailah looked at Grayson. He was staring at the glowing safe with an expression of profound weariness.

For the first time, she realized that the Sigil wasn’t just a prize or a weapon. It was a burden.

“Why don’t you just let it out?” Mailah asked softly. “If it belongs to you, why keep it locked up?”

The room went silent again. This time, it wasn’t the silence of predators; it was the silence of people who were genuinely afraid.

“Because if he touches it,” Mason said, his voice unusually quiet, “the Prince doesn’t just come back. He stays. The power in that stone is enough to wipe away every human thought Grayson has ever had. It would finish what the amnesia started. The man you were with in the past? He’d be gone forever. There would only be the Prince of Ashford. And he doesn’t need you or laughter. He only needs power.”

Mailah felt a cold pit form in her stomach. She looked at Grayson, who was still staring at the safe.

“Is that true?” she whispered.

Grayson turned to her.

In the flickering orange light of the library, he looked ethereal. “The Sigil is the source of my family’s bloodline, Mailah. It is pure, ancient demon energy. I have spent centuries trying to pretend I could live without it. But it’s part of me. And it knows I’m weak right now.”

He stepped toward her, his boots crunching on the soot-covered floor.

He stopped just inches away, the same distance they had been on the villa balcony. The smell of smoke and rain was still on him, but there was something else now—the scent of burning spices.

“I told you to stay in your room to protect you,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble that made her heart skip. “From this. If the Sigil breaks through, it won’t care that you’re human. It will see you as a distraction.”

“I’m not a distraction,” Mailah said, her voice trembling but firm.

“Aren’t you?” Grayson asked. He reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek, but he didn’t touch her. “You made me laugh tonight. You made me remember a villa I’d forgotten. You made the Prince feel like a man. To the Sigil, that is a flaw.”

Shadow let out a low growl, her fur standing on end. She wasn’t looking at the safe anymore.

She was looking at the library door.

“The wards,” Lucson said, his voice sharp.

Grayson snapped his head toward the door. The black void in his eyes darkening further.

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