"LAILAH?" Mailah whispered.
The hand in the mirror stilled. Then, slowly, impossibly, it withdrew—not retreating, but beckoning.
"No," Grayson said flatly, his power still crackling around him like a storm barely contained. "Absolutely not."
But Mailah couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Because that voice—her sister’s voice—shouldn’t exist. Lailah was dead. She’d seen the body. Held her hand as she took her last breath.
"Mailah, please," the voice whispered again, desperate and pleading. "I need you to co ho. Before it’s too late."
"It’s a trick," Elin said, her voice sharp. "Mirrors can trap echoes. mories. This isn’t—it can’t be real."
But Mailah’s heart was hamring against her ribs, her vision blurring with tears she didn’t rember shedding. "Lailah?"
"Don’t," Grayson warned, catching her arm when she tried to step forward. "Mailah, don’t you dare—"
"That’s my sister," she choked out. "My twin. She’s—"
"Dead," he said, and the word was brutal but necessary. "She’s dead, Mailah. Whatever this is, it’s not her."
The mirror rippled again, and this ti a face appeared—pale, ethereal, heartbreakingly familiar.
Lailah’s face. Or what it had been before illness had hollowed it out.
"Mailah," she said, and tears tracked down her translucent cheeks. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you. But you have to listen—"
"This is a BAD IDEA," Lucien announced loudly, his divine fire still crackling between them and the mirror.
"Shut up," Mailah snapped, unable to tear her eyes from her sister’s face.
Lailah smiled—sad and familiar and so achingly real. "I don’t have much ti. They’re coming for you. For both of you. You need to—"
The image flickered, distorting like static.
"Lailah!" Mailah lunged forward, but Grayson’s arm locked around her waist, hauling her back against his chest.
"No," he said again, his voice rough. "I’m not losing you to whatever the hell this is."
"Let GO—"
"Not happening."
The mirror pulsed, and suddenly Lailah’s face sharpened, becoming clearer, more desperate. "Mailah, you have to trust . The vial—it wasn’t from that woman. It was from . I sent it to warn you."
Everyone went very, very still.
"Explain," Grayson demanded, his power flaring brighter. "Now."
"I’m trapped," Lailah said, her voice breaking. "Between life and death. I can’t cross over, can’t rest, because of what they did to . The marriage contract—" She looked at Grayson, sothing complicated in her expression. "It bound more than just our lives. It bound my soul."
Lucien made a strangled sound. "That’s not possible. Marriage contracts don’t—"
"They do when one party is a demon and the other is dying," Lailah interrupted. "It anchored here. To this world. To him."
She looked at Grayson again, and Mailah felt him go rigid behind her.
"You knew," Mailah whispered, horror dawning. "You knew this would happen."
"No," Grayson said imdiately, his voice tight. "I swear to you, I didn’t know. The contract was standard—financial support in exchange for marriage. There was nothing in it about soul-binding."
"Then soone altered it," Lailah said. "Soone who wanted trapped. Who wanted to use as leverage."
Lailah’s expression darkened. "Soone who’s been searching for supernatural anchors—beings caught between states."
"And it found you," Mailah said, her voice hollow.
"It found ." Lailah’s image flickered again, fading.
"Wait," Lucien said slowly. "Are you saying soone orchestrated all of this? Mailah coming here?"
"Maybe," Lailah said. "But... soone has been watching. Waiting. And now that you’re here, Grayson, now that you two—" She stopped, grief flickering across her face. "Now you’re both in danger. Because what matters isn’t just . It’s the bond between you."
Mailah’s blood ran cold. "The bond?"
Grayson’s arms tightened around her, and she felt his heartbeat spike against her back.
"The one you’re building," Lailah continued, voice low. "An incubus who can feed without destroying. Who can care without losing control. Whoever is behind this... they want to understand it. Break it. Control it. And they won’t hesitate to destroy either of you to get it."
The room seed to tilt. Mailah felt Grayson’s breath hitch, felt his power flicker and surge as though he were barely holding himself together.
"So what do we do?" Oliver asked, surprisingly steady.
"Whoever this is, they won’t find a weakness here," Mailah said, her voice trembling but firm.
Grayson’s hands slid down from her shoulders to her waist. "And the vial?"
"It shows the truth," Mailah said, looking at him. "About everything. About what’s happening now. If we’re going to face this, we need to know exactly what we’re dealing with."
Grayson’s jaw tightened, his silver eyes flashing with concern and desire all at once. "If anything goes wrong—"
"You’ll save ," she finished. "I trust you."
Shadow, who had been sitting silently through the entire conversation, padded over and wound around Mailah’s legs, her eyes blinking up at her.
"What?" Mailah asked softly.
The cat wed once, gentle, insistent.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "She approves."
"Since when do you speak cat?" Lucien asked.
"Since I’ve been living with one," Oliver replied, smirking. Despite the gravity of their situation, Mailah laughed.
Grayson leaned close, resting his forehead against hers.
"Mailah... what I said earlier. About knowing what we have?"
"Yes?" she whispered. "Every word. I’ve felt it since the first full feeding. Since the mont I realized I could feel again without consuming completely... that feeling—"
His gaze darkened, intense and unrelenting. "It was always you."
Her breath caught. "You’ve felt this since then? All those months?"
"I’ve tried to hide it," he admitted. "But hiding doesn’t change what’s real."
Mailah’s chest tightened, a mix of awe and desire. "Grayson..."
He pressed a hand over hers, his other coming to cup her face. "I can’t promise we won’t stumble. That we won’t face danger. But I can promise I won’t let go. Not of you."
Tears pricked her eyes, and she brushed them away, letting herself feel the warmth of him, the certainty in his touch.
Shadow owed again, as if in solemn agreent, weaving between their feet.
Lucien, from across the hall, cleared his throat dramatically. "Not to interrupt this... beautiful mont, but we still have a magical artifact to test and soone unknown manipulating everything. Just saying."
Mailah chuckled despite herself, looking up at Grayson. "One disaster at a ti."
He pressed a quick, sharp kiss to her forehead. "I’ll take the disasters. As long as it’s with you." Her lips curved in a small, fierce smile.
"Deal."
Until the vial pulsed again.
Harder.
A low hum vibrated through the wooden table, the glass trembling as though it contained a heartbeat. Elin took a step back. Oliver’s ward flickered weakly. Lucien’s wings snapped open with a startled fwip.
"Uh," Oliver whispered. "That’s... not supposed to happen."
Before anyone could reach for it, the vial shattered—not violently, but gracefully, as if the glass bowed out of existence. A swirl of silver‑white mist poured upward, curling through the air with deliberate purpose.
Grayson snarled, dragging Mailah behind him again. "Everyone stay back."
But the mist didn’t care about him.
It went straight for her.
"Grayson—!" she gasped as the tendril of shimring vapor coiled around her wrist.
Light exploded behind her eyes.
The room vanished.
mory hit her like impact.
She stood in a sunlit bedroom—strange, warm, unfamiliar. Her sister sat on the bed, alive and glowing, brushing her hair in front of a mirror.
"Lailah?" Mailah whispered.
But Lailah didn’t hear her. This wasn’t a dream. It was truth. A captured mont.
A door opened.
A man entered.
Mailah froze.
Tall. Blue-gray-eyed. Broad‑shouldered.
Grayson.
But sohow different Unpolished.
Before the walls. Before the coldness. Before abstaining had carved hollows into him.
He walked carefully, almost nervously, holding a velvet box.
He set it on the dresser. "This is... customary. For the contract."
Lailah smiled, but it was brittle. "It’s lovely."
"You don’t have to pretend," Grayson murmured. "You can tell if it’s too much."
Mailah stared.
He never spoke gently back then. Not to anyone.
Lailah looked at her reflection—eyes flicking just slightly to where Mailah stood unseen. "You’re trying," she whispered to Grayson. "That’s more than most n do."
Grayson’s expression faltered in a way Mailah had never witnessed. Soft. Almost vulnerable.
"I don’t know how to be what you need," he admitted. "But I want... I want to try."
Mailah’s breath caught.
The mory shifted.
The room blurred, ward, re‑ford—
Now Lailah sat at a writing desk, pale, trembling, a letter half‑finished before her. Not the goodbye letter Mailah later found—but another one. One addressed to her.
Dear Mailah,
He cares more than he knows how to show.
She pressed a hand to her chest, fighting tears.
Then—
The mory warped. lted away like frost.
Mailah was yanked back into the present.
Her knees buckled. Grayson caught her before she hit the floor, pulling her tightly to him.
"Mailah! Look at ." His voice cracked with fear he didn’t bother hiding. His hands frad her face, thumbs trembling against her cheeks. "What did you see? Are you hurt?"
She gasped, shaky. "Grayson... it wasn’t your fault. Any of it."
His breath stalled. "What?"
"Lailah—she saw you. The real you. Even then." Mailah pressed a trembling hand to his chest, over his heartbeat. "You tried. You cared. She knew it."
He stared at her like she’d handed him sothing precious he didn’t know he’d been starving for.
"Mailah..." His forehead rested against hers, breath unsteady. "You don’t know what that ans to ."
"I think I do," she whispered. "Because I feel it too."
His arms tightened around her, pulling her fully against him. "I don’t deserve this. Or you."
Her breath hitched. Her hands curled in his shirt. "Then start now."
He kissed her.
Not hungry. Not desperate.
Slow.
Reverent.
Like he finally understood that she wasn’t saving him from hunger—she was saving him from loneliness.
A startled squeak sounded from the corner.
They both turned.
Oliver was covering Shadow’s eyes.
Lucien rolled his own. "For the love of the stars, at least warn us before you two start radiating feelings."
Mailah laughed against Grayson’s chest.
For the first ti in a long ti, the danger wasn’t what scared her.
Losing him was.
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