CHAPTER 117: CHAPTER 117: THE NIGHT WATCH

A SOFT SOUND BEHIND them drew Mailah’s attention.

Chen had reappeared, silent. "Elin’s in the east wing," he said. "She’s resting, but she needs medical attention soon. Her pulse is weak."

"I’ll call Morrison," Grayson replied immediately. He pulled out his phone and stepped toward the corridor, his voice dropping as he spoke into it.

Mailah thought back to the Soren Morrison’s kind hazel eyes that seemed to hold an inner flame. She hadn’t known then what he truly was—only that his touch could heal and that he might have an endless supply of restorative elixir.

Moments later, Grayson returned, tucking his phone away. "He’s on his way," he said. "He’ll use the northern entrance—less open ground."

Mailah nodded, though her mind still buzzed with questions. "You really think he can help her?"

"If anyone can, it’s Morrison," Grayson said. "His elixirs work on humans, demons, even things that shouldn’t exist anymore."

By the time Dr. Soren Morrison arrived, the estate had settled into uneasy stillness. His entrance was quiet—no car, no footsteps, only the faint shimmer of air bending before a tall, dark figure appeared by the front door. His coat was dusted with ash, his hair streaked gold under the chandelier light.

"Still in one piece, I see," Soren said mildly as Grayson opened the door. "That’s twice now you’ve made me come out at impossible hours."

Grayson exhaled, almost smiling. "You enjoy it."

Soren’s hazel eyes glinted. "Perhaps. But next time, try not to drag me from my nest while I’m regenerating."

His presence warmed the room, chasing off the chill that had seeped into the walls. He set his black bag on the table and opened it, revealing rows of glass vials filled with shimmering liquid—some glowing faintly red, others gold.

"Where’s the patient?" he asked, his tone turning brisk.

"Elin," Grayson said, gesturing upstairs. "Second door on the left."

As Soren disappeared up the staircase, Mailah drifted closer to Grayson, unable to shake the tension winding tighter in her chest.

"Do you think she’ll make it?" she whispered.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the stairwell before settling on her. "If Morrison says yes, she will."

Mailah nodded faintly, folding her arms. The warmth from the firelight couldn’t quite reach the corners of her heart. She glanced once more at the window, at the mist pressing against the glass.

Outside, something shifted.

A shadow moved in the fog—slow, deliberate, almost human.

Mailah’s breath caught. "Grayson..."

He turned sharply, following her gaze.

But when they looked again, the fog was empty.

Only the wind stirred.

Still, Grayson’s hand went to his side—instinctive, protective—and his expression darkened.

"Stay inside," he said quietly, eyes narrowing toward the mist. "We may be safe in here..."

He stepped closer to the window, his reflection flickering in the glass.

"...but that doesn’t mean we’re alone."

Chen appeared in the entry hall not long after Soren had vanished upstairs, his movements quiet but his expression determined. He had the look of someone who wanted to slip away unnoticed, and he was about to test whether he could manage it.

"Mr. Ashford," he said, nodding respectfully but already moving toward the door. "I need to file the flight report and secure the helicopter. I’ll head back to the city."

"No," Grayson said simply, not even looking away from the window where that shadow had appeared moments before.

Chen paused mid-step. "Sir?"

"It’s not safe to travel alone tonight. The roads between here and the city are isolated, and whoever was outside has shown interest in this property." Grayson’s tone was final. "You’re staying."

"But your brothers—" Chen began.

"Are aware that I make my own decisions," Grayson interrupted. "And I’ve decided you’re staying. Mrs. Baker will show you to one of the guest rooms. You can leave at first light."

Chen opened his mouth to protest further, then seemed to think better of it. The conflict playing across his face suggested he was caught between competing loyalties—his direct employers and the man before him who had effectively just given him an order he couldn’t refuse.

Finally, he nodded, accepting the inevitable. "As you wish, sir. Though your brothers may have opinions about this."

"Let them," Grayson replied, his attention already returning to the shadowed landscape beyond the windows. "They’ve made enough decisions for all of us tonight."

As Chen departed in search of Mrs. Baker, Mailah found herself alone with Grayson in the vast entry hall.

The fireplace crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across the marble floors, and somewhere upstairs, Soren Morrison was tending to Elin with his supernatural healing arts.

But here, in this moment, there was only the weight of the night pressing against the windows and the tension that seemed to have become a permanent fixture between them.

Mailah stood there for a long moment, watching Grayson’s profile as he stared out into the darkness. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense beneath the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. There were fine lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier—exhaustion and stress etching themselves into his features.

"You need rest," she said finally.

"I need to stay alert," he replied without turning. "Varrow or his minions could arrive at any moment, and if he does, I want to be ready."

"You can’t stand guard all night without sleep. You’ll be useless if something happens."

"I’ve gone longer without sleep." His tone was flat, brooking no argument.

But Mailah had spent enough time around him to recognize stubbornness when she heard it. She turned on her heel and headed toward the grand staircase.

"Where are you going?" Grayson asked, finally glancing away from the window.

"To change out of this ridiculous dress," she called back over her shoulder. "Unless you want me standing here all night in an evening gown and heels while waiting for potential demon attacks."

Twenty minutes later, Mailah returned to the entry hall refreshed and changed. She’d traded the silk evening gown for comfortable yoga pants and an oversized sweater that fell off one shoulder—casual but elegant enough to wear around the estate. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup.

Grayson was still at the window, though now he stood with a glass of what looked like expensive whiskey in hand. When he turned to see her approach, his expression softened slightly.

"You should be resting," he said.

"I could say the same to you," Mailah replied, settling into one of the high-backed chairs positioned near the fireplace. "Except we both know you won’t. So I’m not even going to waste the breath asking."

She patted the chair next to hers—a clear invitation.

Grayson didn’t move. "Mailah—"

"I’m keeping you company," she interrupted firmly. "You’re going to stand guard, and I’m going to sit here and make sure you don’t go full-demon berserker if Varrow shows up. It’s a compromise."

"That’s not a compromise, that’s you deciding to stay up all night."

"Yes, well, I’m stubborn that way." She smiled up at him. "And I’m not leaving you to deal with whatever’s lurking out there alone."

For a long moment, Grayson simply stared at her, his blue-gray eyes unreadable. Then, with a sigh that suggested he knew he’d already lost this particular argument, he moved to the chair she’d indicated and sat down heavily.

"You’re going to fall asleep," he predicted.

"Probably," she admitted. "But not until you do."

"I don’t have to sleep."

"You should sleep," Mailah corrected, pulling her feet up onto the chair and curling into a comfortable ball. "You’ve just trained yourself not to need it as much. Centuries of control and discipline and all that. But you’re capable of it, which means you’re going to do it tonight."

He made a sound that was half protest, half laugh. "You’re remarkably bossy for someone who’s known me for only a few months."

"Someone needs to be," she replied with a slight smile. "Besides, you like it. You respond better to direct commands than you do to gentle suggestions."

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"Because every time I’ve been firm with you, you’ve actually listened. Every time I’ve been gentle or tentative, you’ve done whatever you wanted." She tilted her head, studying him. "It’s a defense mechanism, I think. You’re so used to everyone trying to manipulate you that straightforward directness actually catches you off guard."

The statement hovered in the space between them, daring and too honest. Mailah braced for irritation, maybe even fury—but instead, Grayson’s eyes flickered with what could only be respect.

"You’re observant," he said finally.

Despite everything—the danger, the tension, the weight of the night—Grayson suddenly laughed. It wasn’t a polite laugh or a controlled one. It was genuine and unguarded, the kind of laugh that made him look younger, less burdened by centuries of isolation.

"I like you," he said, and then seemed to freeze as if he’d just realized what had come out of his mouth.

Mailah’s heart stopped. She sat up slowly, her eyes wide as she processed the words that hung in the suddenly quiet entry hall.

"You—what?" she managed.