GRAYSON HADN’T SEEN MAILAH in person for thirty-six hours.
He coordinated her movents through Mason. Reviewed her security footage remotely. Made decisions about her safety from the clinical distance of the security center.
Exactly as planned.
"She’s requesting permission to use the library," Mason reported, standing in the doorway. "Says she’s finished everything in the room and needs sothing to occupy her ti."
"Denied."
"Gray, she’s been locked in that room for two days—"
"Which makes her predictable. Restless. Exactly what we need Theron to see." Grayson didn’t look up from the greenhouse schematics. "She stays put."
Mason was quiet for a mont. "You know she understands this is an act, right? You don’t actually have to be this cold to her when we’re the only ones around."
"The caras have audio. Anyone monitoring them needs to believe the dynamic has changed." Grayson finally looked up. "Including you. Your reactions need to be genuine when you report back to Lucson."
"So you’re lying to all of us to sell the lie to Theron."
"Yes."
"That’s paranoid even by your standards."
"Theron had four informants embedded in this estate. Four that we know about. Until I’m certain there aren’t more, everyone is potentially compromised. Including you."
Mason’s expression hardened. "You think I’m—"
"I think you’re my brother and I trust you. But I don’t trust whoever might be listening to this conversation." Grayson returned his attention to the screens. "So yes, I’m treating everyone like a potential leak. Even family. Especially family."
After Mason left, Grayson pulled up the cara feed for the west wing suite.
Mailah was sitting on the bed, reading. Had been for the last three hours, barely moving. Her lunch tray sat untouched on the nightstand.
Not eating. That was concerning.
He reached for his phone to order Mason to—
No.
That’s exactly what he couldn’t do. Couldn’t show concern. Couldn’t give anyone monitoring communications any reason to think she was more than a tactical asset.
He switched off the feed and pulled up the greenhouse specs again.
Twenty-four hours until they staged the security compromise. Forty-eight until they moved Mailah to the greenhouse. Seventy-two until Theron made his move.
If the tiline held.
If nothing went wrong.
If—
His phone rang. Lucson.
"We have a problem. Dr. Morrison is here. Says he needs to see you imdiately. Won’t tell why."
Grayson was already moving. "Where?"
"East wing. Main entrance. Gray, he brought soone with him."
"Who?"
"A woman. Says her na is Sera. Claims to be a Dream Ward specialist from the Council."
Grayson’s blood went cold. The Council. Sending specialists. That ant official scrutiny. Questions. Oversight at the worst possible ti.
He reached the east wing in under three minutes.
Dr. Morrison was standing in the entrance hall with a woman who radiated the kind of power that made even ancient demons nervous.
Sera was tall, ethereal, with silver hair and eyes that seed to see through everything. She wore robes that shimred like trapped starlight and carried herself with the authority of soone who answered to the Council and no one else.
"Grayson Ashford," she said, her voice musical and unsettling. "We need to discuss your human."
Not "the human" or "Mailah" Your human.
Grayson kept his expression neutral. "What about her?"
"She was dream-walked two nights ago. Possessed through a physical connection." Sera moved closer, studying him. "The Council has concerns. Specifically, how an ancient demon was able to bypass your wards and violate soone under your protection."
"The wards have been reinforced. Additional protections implented. The situation is contained."
"Is it?" She pulled out a crystal that glowed faintly blue. "Because according to this, the dream connection is still active. Dormant, but present. The demon can access her again whenever he chooses."
Grayson’s hands clenched at his sides. "That’s impossible. We destroyed the physical anchor—the hair sample."
"Hair isn’t the only anchor." Sera’s expression was grave. "He established a neural pathway during the initial possession. As long as that pathway exists, he can ride along in her subconscious. She’ll never know he’s there unless he chooses to manifest."
"Then sever the pathway."
"It’s not that simple. Dream pathways are delicate. Forcing severance could cause permanent psychological damage. Catatonia. mory loss. Worse." She pocketed the crystal. "I need to examine her. Assess the extent of the connection. Then I can determine the safest way to proceed."
"Now?"
"Imdiately. Every mont that pathway remains active is another mont Theron has access to her thoughts, her fears, her subconscious mind." Sera looked at him directly. "He’s inside her head, Grayson. Has been for two days. Learning everything about her. About you. About whatever she dreams."
The implications hit like a physical blow.
Two days. Forty-eight hours of dormant connection, with Theron passively observing.
Learning. Planning.
Knowing exactly how Mailah felt. What she feared. What she hoped for.
Including the plan.
"Take to her," Sera said. "Now."
Grayson led them to the west wing, his mind racing through contingencies. If Theron knew about the Nightweaver Protocol, the entire plan was compromised. They’d have to abort. Find another way. Start over.
Unless—
Unless Mailah hadn’t thought about the plan. Hadn’t dread about it. Had kept it locked away in conscious thought where dormant dream-walking couldn’t reach.
But that was unlikely. Impossible, even. You couldn’t control what you dread about.
Mason straightened when he saw them approaching. "Grayson? Is there—"
"Council business," Grayson said shortly. "Open the door."
Inside, Mailah was still on the bed, still reading. She looked up when they entered, her expression carefully neutral when she saw Grayson.
Then she saw Sera, and sothing flickered across her face. Recognition? Fear?
"Mailah," Sera said, moving forward with purpose. "I’m Sera, Dream Ward Specialist. I need to examine the connection Theron established during his possession. It won’t hurt, but it will be invasive. I’ll see everything in your subconscious mind. Do I have your consent?"
Mailah’s eyes darted to Grayson. Looking for guidance. For permission. For so sign of what to do.
He gave her nothing. Just stood there, expression flat, waiting.
"Yes," Mailah said finally, turning back to Sera. "You have my consent."
Sera produced the crystal again, which was now glowing brighter. "Lie down. Close your eyes. This will take approximately ten minutes. Dr. Morrison will monitor your vitals to ensure the process doesn’t cause undue stress."
Mailah lay back, hands folded on her stomach, eyes closing. She looked small.
Vulnerable. Completely exposed.
Grayson forced himself to look away.
Sera placed the crystal on Mailah’s forehead and began speaking in a language that predated human civilization.
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with power.
Dr. Morrison moved to Mailah’s side monitoring her vital signs with professional detachnt.
Grayson stood against the wall, watching, calculating the damage if Theron knew everything.
The crystal’s glow intensified, shifting from blue to violet to sothing that hurt to look at directly.
Mailah’s body went rigid, every muscle tensing.
"Easy," Dr. Morrison murmured. "Just breathe. Let her work."
Seven minutes passed in silence. Then eight. Nine.
At exactly ten minutes, Sera removed the crystal. The oppressive atmosphere lifted imdiately.
Mailah’s eyes opened. She looked disoriented, slightly sick.
"Well?" Grayson asked, his voice carefully controlled.
Sera turned to him, her expression unreadable. "The connection is extensive. Far more developed than I initially assessed. Theron hasn’t just established a pathway—he’s been actively monitoring. Cataloging. Learning."
"For how long?"
"Since the initial possession. Forty-eight hours of continuous passive observation." She paused. "He knows everything she’s thought about. Everything she’s feared. Everything she’s—"
"Does he know about the plan?" Grayson interrupted.
Sera’s eyes narrowed. "What plan?"
"Answer the question."
"I can’t. Her conscious thoughts about strategic planning are deliberately suppressed. Locked away behind ntal barriers that she’s maintaining actively."
Sera looked at Mailah with sothing like respect. "She’s compartntalizing. Keeping certain information separated from her subconscious mind. It’s extraordinarily difficult to maintain that kind of ntal discipline, especially under stress."
Grayson’s eyes went to Mailah. She was sitting up now, still looking pale but eting his gaze steadily.
"How long can she maintain that?" he asked Sera, but he was looking at Mailah.
"Not long. Eventually, the barriers will break down. During sleep. During monts of high stress. When she’s vulnerable." Sera moved toward the door. "I can sever the connection, but it will take ti. A ritual. Specific components. At least forty-eight hours to prepare."
"We don’t have forty-eight hours."
"Then you have a choice. Either postpone whatever you’re planning until the connection is severed, or proceed knowing that Theron might learn about it at any mont."
Grayson was silent, weighing options. Calculating probabilities.
"There’s one other possibility," Dr. Morrison said quietly. "If Mailah maintains her ntal barriers and avoids sleep for the next seventy-two hours, Theron won’t gain access to the protected information."
"That’s insane," Sera said. "Seventy-two hours without sleep will cause serious psychological and physical damage. Hallucinations. Impaired judgnt. Potential collapse."
"But it would work?" Grayson asked.
"Theoretically. But I cannot recomnd—"
"I’ll do it," Mailah interrupted.
She stood, swaying slightly but her voice was steady.
User Comments
0 comments from readers