MAILAH STOOD in the kitchen, watching Grayson thodically prepare his usual breakfast—espresso that could strip paint and toast that he inevitably burned because he never paid attention to the toaster tir.
The leather office bag sat on the counter between them like a third person at breakfast.
Lucson appeared in the doorway, looking like he’d been awake for hours. Knowing him, he probably had been. Sleep seed optional for demons who fed on influence—apparently, strategic planning was just as nourishing.
"Today’s the day," Mailah said, more to herself than anyone else.
"Indeed." Lucson’s light gray eyes flicked to the bag, then to Grayson. "Rember—the most important part of any successful operation is making your enemy believe they’re winning."
Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Cryptic. How helpful."
"Just follow the routine. Be predictable. As usual." Lucson straightened his already-perfect collar.
"And the bag?" Mailah asked.
"Guard it with your life," Lucson said, his expression serious.
Before Mailah could ask more, Lucson was gone—vanishing into whatever mysterious demon business occupied his mornings.
"Does he practice being cryptic, or does it co naturally?" Mailah asked.
"Centuries of practice," Grayson said, finally rescuing his toast from the smoke alarm’s imminent activation.
"I can’t imagine you putting up with that."
Grayson grabbed the leather bag, testing its weight. To anyone watching, it looked heavy. Important. Worth protecting.
Mailah knew better than to ask what was actually inside.
The drive to the office felt different today. Grayson drove with the sa careful attention to traffic laws that had characterized the past days, but Mailah could sense the coiled energy beneath his corporate disguise.
Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if the wolf had been wearing Armani and driving a Tesla.
"They’re watching," Grayson said quietly, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
Mailah resisted the urge to turn around. "Crows?"
"Three of them. Following since we left the estate." His jaw tightened slightly. "Valerius is committed, I’ll give him that."
"Should we be worried?"
"We should be predictable." Grayson executed a perfect turn signal, waited the appropriate three seconds, then changed lanes with the kind of caution that suggested he’d read the driver’s manual recently and taken it seriously.
The office tower lood ahead, all glass and steel and the concentrated ambition of a thousand people trying to climb corporate ladders.
Grayson parked in his usual spot, grabbed the leather bag with both hands and headed for the entrance.
Mailah stayed close, playing her role as the devoted fiancée-slash-assistant. Which wasn’t really playing, she supposed.
Jas t them in the lobby again wearing a tie for the first ti since she t him.
He bead, falling into step beside them. "Big day, Gray. The Henderson rger papers need your signature, and apparently soone in Legal is having a ’crisis of ethical conscience’ about the zoning variance. You know, normal stuff."
"Wonderful," Grayson said flatly. "I live for zoning variance drama."
"That’s the spirit!" Jas missed the sarcasm entirely. "Oh, and heads up—there’s so kind of corporate compliance inspection happening on the executive floor. Nothing to worry about, just suit types with clipboards making everyone nervous."
Grayson’s grip on the bag handle tightened fractionally. "Compliance inspection. How thorough of them."
"Right? It’s like they think we’re hiding state secrets up there or sothing." Jas laughed at his own joke.
Mailah and Grayson exchanged glances. If only Jas knew how close to the truth that was.
The morning crawled by with agonizing normalcy.
Grayson signed papers. Attended a video conference about market projections. Made exactly three comnts about quarterly earnings that were simultaneously vague and authoritative enough that no one questioned them.
And through it all, the leather bag sat beside his desk, visible and prominent and apparently very important.
Mailah watched from her usual spot near the window, pretending to work on her laptop while actually tracking the shadows that kept appearing near Grayson’s office door.
Crows on the ledge outside. Movent in the hallway that felt too purposeful to be random employees.
They were circling. Waiting for their mont.
It ca during lunch.
Grayson had been summoned to an "urgent" eting in the boardroom—sothing about the Henderson rger requiring imdiate attention.
Suspicious timing, but refusing would have broken their carefully maintained routine.
"I’ll be twenty minutes," he told Mailah, his eyes conveying what his words didn’t: Stay alert.
"I’ll be here," she said, settling into his chair with her laptop. "Soone needs to make sure your orchid doesn’t die of neglect."
The mont Grayson left, Mailah felt the atmosphere shift. The air grew heavier, colder. She looked up to find a man she didn’t recognize standing in the doorway.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. Eyes that reflected light in a way that was almost, but not quite, human.
Mailah’s stomach dropped. She’d been around demons long enough now—Grayson, his brothers, even Valerius and Caspian during that tense confrontation days ago.
She knew the signs. The way they moved with too much grace. The subtle wrongness in how they held themselves. The temperature shift that had nothing to do with HVAC systems.
This man was a demon. Definitely one of Valerius’s people.
But she couldn’t let him know she knew.
"Can I help you?" Mailah asked, keeping her voice politely professional, the way any normal human assistant would when faced with an unexpected visitor.
"David, Internal Security." The man produced a badge that looked convincingly official. "We’ve had reports of a missing executive briefcase from the fourteenth floor. Mr. Ashford was on that floor yesterday, so I’m checking if it was picked up by mistake."
He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.
Mailah forced herself to relax her shoulders, to look mildly inconvenienced rather than terrified. "Mr. Ashford is in a eting. If you’d like to schedule an appointnt—"
"This won’t take long." The demon—David, or whatever his real na was—stepped into the office.
Two more figures appeared behind him, also in corporate attire. Also definitely not human. "Just need to verify what bags were brought in today. Standard lost-and-found protocol."
No, I really don’t think it is, Mailah thought, but she nodded. "Of course. Though I should ntion, Mr. Ashford only has his personal bag."
"Perfect. That’s all I need to see." David’s gaze fixed on the leather bag sitting beside the desk. "Just to rule it out."
Mailah’s heart hamred. She knew demons could probably hear heartbeats, so she tried to channel genuine annoyance rather than fear. "That’s his personal bag. He carries it every day. Work docunts, lunch, the usual."
"Then it’ll only take a second to confirm." David moved toward the bag, not waiting for permission.
"Actually, I do mind. That’s private property, and unless you have authorization from Mr. Ashford—"
But David was already reaching for it, his fingers closing around the handle. He lifted it—clearly expecting resistance, weight, sothing significant.
Instead, the bag practically floated into his hands.
His expression flickered. Confusion. Then suspicion.
He unzipped it with sharp, efficient movents, and Mailah held her breath.
Spreadsheets. A half-eaten sandwich.
And....
a stress ball shaped like a tiny screaming businessman that Jas had given Grayson as a joke.
No ancient artifacts. Nothing remotely worth the elaborate surveillance and careful planning.
"What—" David started, his professional facade cracking.
The office door burst open, and Grayson strode in, Jas trailing behind looking confused and concerned.
"Excuse ." Grayson’s voice could have frozen nitrogen. His eyes swept over the demon and his companions, recognition flashing briefly before being buried under corporate irritation. "I wasn’t inford of any security incident."
David straightened, still holding the disappointingly mundane bag. "Mr. Ashford. We’re just following up on a missing briefcase from—"
"The fourteenth floor. Yes, I heard." Grayson stepped fully into the office, his presence sohow making the space feel smaller. "Interesting, considering I haven’t been to the fourteenth floor in days. My calendar is ticulously docunted, as I’m sure your departnt can verify."
The demon’s jaw tightened. "Perhaps you don’t recall—"
"I recall everything about my schedule. It’s part of what makes effective at my job." Grayson’s tone was ice. "What I don’t recall is Internal Security having authority to search personal property without going through proper HR channels. Or did that policy change in the last twenty-four hours?"
One of David’s companions shifted uncomfortably. Jas, catching on that sothing was very wrong, pulled out his phone. "I can pull up the security protocols if you need them, Gray."
"Please do." Grayson held out his hand for the bag. David had no choice but to return it. "And while you’re at it, please contact HR and ask them when Internal Security last conducted an unscheduled search of executive offices. I’m curious about the precedent."
David’s professional mask was slipping. His eyes had gone flat, calculating. "We were simply being thorough."
"Thorough." Grayson repeated the word like it tasted bitter. "By rifling through my lunch? By entering my office without authorization?" He paused, letting the silence stretch. "I wonder what Director Sullivan would say about this thoroughness."
The ntion of a higher authority—human authority—made David’s companions exchange glances. They were losing the corporate theater ga, and they knew it.
"There’s been a misunderstanding," David said finally, his voice tight. "We’ll follow proper channels going forward."
"See that you do." Grayson didn’t move, didn’t give them an inch of space to maneuver. "And...David, right? If there’s a missing briefcase, I suggest you actually check the fourteenth floor’s security footage before wasting anyone else’s ti. I’m sure it will be illuminating."
It was a direct challenge.
David’s expression went completely blank—the kind of blankness that ant sothing dangerous was thinking very hard behind it. But he was boxed in. Escalating here, in front of witnesses, with HR potentially being contacted, would blow whatever cover operation they were running.
"Of course," he said. "Our apologies for the inconvenience."
He turned to leave, his companions following. But at the door, he paused and looked back at Grayson with eyes that were no longer even pretending to be human.
"Have a good day, Mr. Ashford," David said, his voice carrying a weight that had nothing to do with corporate politeness. "I do hope that briefcase turns up soon. Lost things have a way of... resurfacing in unexpected places."
The door closed with a soft click that sounded too final.
Mailah released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Jas was still standing there, phone in hand, looking like he’d just witnessed sothing his brain couldn’t quite categorize.
"Should I still call HR?" he asked weakly.
"Please," Grayson said, setting his bag down carefully beside his desk. "And docunt everything that just happened. Ti stamps, nas, the works."
"On it." Jas practically fled, clearly grateful for sothing normal to do.
The mont they were alone, Mailah sagged against the desk. "They know. They know sothing."
"They suspect," Grayson corrected, his voice low. "But they don’t know what. That’s the important distinction."
"They went straight for your bag."
"Which is exactly what we wanted them to do." His eyes t hers, and there was sothing almost playful in them despite the danger. "The best misdirection is the one where your target thinks they’ve figured out your plan."
Mailah stared at the innocent-looking leather bag. The bag they’d made such a show of Grayson carrying every day for the past week. The bag that had been obviously heavy, obviously important, obviously the container for whatever artifact the demons were hunting.
Except it wasn’t.
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