Chapter 287: Chapter 287: The Intruder

THEY MOVED TO THE BED TOGETHER, and Grayson lay down fully clothed on top of the covers while Mailah settled under them. The compromise felt absurd, but necessary.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

“Agreed.”

“You’re not going to sleep like that.”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

She made a sound of frustration, then rolled over to face him. Even in the darkness, he could feel her watching him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For telling me the truth. Even though you didn’t want to.”

“You have a right to know what threatens you.”

“And for staying.”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Instead, he reached out and found her hand under the covers, interlacing their fingers.

It was answer enough.

Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into sleep. Grayson lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about photographs and violated privacy and an ancient demon who thought he could use Mailah against him.

Theron had made a mistake.

He’d shown Grayson exactly what he valued most.

And now—

Mailah’s hand twitched in his. Then tightened. Hard.

Grayson turned his head. Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing had changed.

Faster. Shallow.

Her fingers were digging into his hand with enough force to hurt.

“Mailah.”

No response.

But her body had gone rigid under the covers, every muscle tensed.

Nightmare. Had to be.

He started to pull his hand away to shake her awake, but her grip was iron-tight. Impossible for someone her size and strength.

Not natural.

Grayson sat up, his other hand reaching for her shoulder. “Mailah, wake up.”

Her eyes snapped open.

Wrong. All wrong.

They were completely black—not just the pupils, but the entire eye. Obsidian reflecting nothing.

And she was smiling.

Not Mailah’s smile. Something else wearing her face.

“Hello, Grayson.”

The voice was wrong too. Layered. Multiple tones speaking in harmony. One of them was definitely male.

Grayson’s hand shot to her throat before he could think. Then stopped, hovering just above her skin.

Because touching her might hurt her, not whatever was using her as a puppet.

“Get out of her,” he said quietly.

“So protective. So predictable.” Mailah’s body sat up with movements that were too fluid, too graceful. “Did you really think I’d wait for you to come find me? How boring.”

Theron.

Grayson was off the bed in an instant, putting distance between them while his mind raced through options.

Possession. Theron was possessing her. But how? She was in a warded room. Triple protections. Nothing should be able to—

The hair.

The lock of hair Kael had taken.

Enough for a skilled demon to establish a link. To ride along in her dreams, her subconscious.

“Clever,” Grayson said, his voice flat. “But you’re not fully here. Just a projection. A dream-walk.”

“Clever enough.” Mailah’s body stood, and Grayson could see the wrongness in every movement.

Too smooth. Too controlled. “I wanted to talk. And she made such a convenient conduit.”

“Talk, then. Before I wake her and break your connection.”

“Oh, you won’t do that.” The thing wearing Mailah’s face moved closer. “Because you’re not sure what forcing me out might do to her. Dream-walking is delicate. Sudden severance can be… traumatic.”

Grayson’s hands clenched at his sides. “What do you want?”

“To make you an offer.” Mailah’s hand reached out, fingers trailing across the bedpost. “Give her to me. Now. Willingly. And I’ll leave you alone. Leave your precious estate standing. You can continue your comfortable little existence on Earth, and I’ll take my revenge in a form that doesn’t destroy everything you’ve built.”

“No.”

“I haven’t finished—”

“The answer is no. Now and always. You want her, you’ll have to go through me.”

Mailah’s face tilted, that wrong smile widening. “Yes. I thought you’d say that. But I had to offer. Professional courtesy between old enemies.”

“We were never professional. You were corrupt. I exposed you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” The voice rose, multiple tones separating slightly in anger. “You destroyed everything I’d built. Centuries of work. Power. Influence. All gone because you decided to play hero.”

“You were torturing lower demons for entertainment.”

“I was maintaining order through fear. It’s efficient.” Mailah’s body moved closer, and Grayson had to force himself not to retreat.

“Get to the point.”

“The point is that you’ve given me exactly what I need.” Mailah’s hand came up, fingers splaying across her own chest. “This. Her. The thing you care about more than your carefully constructed walls.”

Grayson’s expression didn’t change. “If you think threatening her will make me surrender—”

“I don’t want you to surrender. Where’s the fun in that?” The smile turned predatory. “I want you to fight. To struggle. To watch me hurt her in ways you can’t prevent. And then, when you’re broken and desperate, I’ll kill you both.”

“Original.”

“Effective.” Mailah’s eyes—still that terrible black—locked onto his. “She’s dreaming right now, you know. Trapped in her own head while I control the outside. Want to know what she’s dreaming about?”

“No.”

“Liar. She’s dreaming about you. About being safe. About the photographs not existing. About a normal life that she’ll never have because you’re too damaged to let anyone close.” The voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Poor thing. She actually thinks you might love her back.”

Grayson moved.

Not toward Theron-wearing-Mailah. Toward the nightstand. His hand shot out, grabbing the glass of water and throwing it directly at her face.

The shock broke the connection.

Mailah gasped, her eyes rolling back, her body going limp. Grayson caught her before she hit the floor, lowering her carefully to the bed.

Her eyes were normal again. Blue. Human. Terrified.

“Grayson?” Her voice was small, confused. “What—why am I—”

“You were dream-walked. Theron used the hair Kael took to establish a connection.” He was checking her over, looking for injuries, his hands moving with clinical precision even as something cold and violent churned in his chest. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t—I was dreaming and then—” She looked around wildly. “He was here. In my head. I could feel him—”

“He’s gone now.”

“He said—” She stopped, her face going pale. “Oh God, what did he say? What did I say? I couldn’t control—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does—”

“Mailah.” He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It. Doesn’t. Matter. He was using you. Trying to get a reaction from me. That’s all.”

She was shaking now, the adrenaline crash hitting. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” His voice went hard. “Don’t apologize for something he did.”

He released her and stood, pulling out his phone. Three in the morning. Carson answered on the second ring, voice alert despite the hour.

“Problem?”

“Theron dream-walked Mailah. Used the hair sample as a conduit.”

A pause. “That’s not possible. The wards should prevent—”

“Physical connection bypasses standard wards. We need new protections. Dream-wards specifically.” Grayson was already moving toward the door. “And I need someone to stay with her while I talk to Kael again.”

“Gray, you already—”

“He didn’t mention that Theron could use the hair for possession. That’s a significant omission.” His voice had gone deadly calm. “I’m going to find out what else he forgot to mention.”

He ended the call and turned back to Mailah. She was still sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around herself, looking small and shaken.

Wrong. All wrong. She was supposed to be safe here.

“Carson’s coming to stay with you,” he said. “Don’t leave this room. Don’t go near the windows. Don’t—”

“I know the protocols.” Her voice was steadier now, anger replacing fear. “Go do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.”

He shouldn’t believe her. Should stay until Carson arrived. Should make sure she was actually fine and not just pretending.

Instead, he crossed back to the bed in three strides, his hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her up to meet him. The kiss was hard but reassuring.

When he released her, her eyes were wide.

Then he was gone, the door closing behind him before she could respond.

In the hallway, he didn’t wait for Carson. Just headed straight for the stairs, his mind already cycling through increasingly violent ways to make Kael regret every omission, every half-truth, every piece of information he’d conveniently forgotten to mention.

The holding cell was quiet when he arrived. Too quiet.

Grayson’s hand was on the door handle when he noticed.

The lock had been opened from the inside.

He yanked the door open.

Empty.

The cell was empty. Cuffs on the floor. No sign of Kael. Just a message scratched into the wall in what looked like dried blood:

She dreams of you. Does she know you dream of her dying?

Grayson stared at the message, his mind going cold and calculating.

Kael hadn’t escaped.

He’d been extracted. Pulled out by someone with access to the estate’s lower levels.

Another leak.

Or the same leak, with help.

His phone rang. Mason’s name.

“We have a problem,” Mason said without preamble.

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