CHAPTER 146: CHAPTER 146: THE SECRETS 1

"OH MY GOD," Mailah breathed.

"Your cat," Grayson said flatly.

"Our cat," Mailah corrected, already moving. "She’s a family problem now."

They sprinted toward Shadow, who had somehow wedged herself between two market stalls with her prize, looking like a tiny black dragon guarding stolen treasure. The chicken was almost as big as she was.

"How is she even—" Elin started.

"Don’t question it," Oliver said, already pulling out his wallet. "Just find the vendor."

They found him—a burly man with an impressive mustache and an expression that suggested he’d seen many things in his life, but never a cat stealing an entire rotisserie chicken.

"Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace tanto!" Mailah apologized breathlessly, her broken Italian tumbling out. "La gatta è... she’s..."

"Possessed by demons?" Lucien supplied helpfully.

"Not helping," Grayson muttered.

Oliver stepped forward with enough euros to buy ten chickens, his smile diplomatic and apologetic. The vendor looked at the money, at Shadow’s triumphant face, at the absurd group of foreigners, and started laughing.

"È una gatta con spirito!" he declared. A cat with spirit.

"That’s one word for it," Elin said.

The vendor waved away half the money, patted Oliver on the shoulder, and said something in rapid Italian that made Lucien’s eyes widen.

"What did he say?" Mailah asked.

"He said any cat brave enough to steal from him deserves to eat," Lucien translated. "And that we should leave before his wife sees."

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Shadow, still clutching her chicken, allowed Mailah to scoop her up. The cat’s purr was smug enough to be audible from three feet away.

"I can’t believe that just happened," Mailah said as they speed-walked toward the car.

"I can," Grayson said. "That cat has been escalating her crimes all day. This was inevitable."

"You sound like you’re profiling her."

"Someone needs to."

They piled into the car, Shadow immediately claiming the back window ledge with her chicken. The scene was so absurd—a sleek black cat with a bird twice her size, backlit by the Tuscan sunset—that Mailah had to bite back hysterical laughter.

"Please tell me someone got a photo," she managed.

Elin held up her camera. "Already sent it to the group chat."

"We have a group chat?"

"As of thirty seconds ago. I titled it ’Shadow’s Crime Spree.’"

"Perfect," Lucien said from the front seat. "We can document all her future heists."

"There won’t be future heists," Grayson said.

Shadow, as if understanding and disagreeing, bit into her chicken with audible satisfaction.

The drive back to the villa should have been tense after everything that had happened—the mysterious shop, the ominous warnings, the vial currently burning cold in Mailah’s pocket. But instead, it was filled with the kind of chaotic warmth that came from shared absurdity.

Lucien narrated Shadow’s crimes like a true crime documentary. "The subject showed no remorse. Witnesses describe her as ’small but terrifying’ and ’possibly demonic.’"

"She’s not demonic," Mailah protested weakly.

"Are we sure about that?" Oliver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Shadow, who was making disturbingly efficient work of the chicken.

"Maybe she’s a familiar," Elin suggested. "Bound to you through ancient magic," referring to Oliver.

"Or she’s just a cat who likes stealing food," Grayson said.

"Where’s your sense of wonder?" Lucien asked.

"I left it somewhere between the memory witch and the chicken heist."

Mailah caught his eye in the mirror and felt something warm unfurl in her chest. Despite everything—the danger, the secrets, the weight of the vial in her pocket—he was here. They all were.

Her hand drifted to her pocket, fingers brushing the vial’s smooth surface. The moment she touched it, a flash of something flickered through her mind—not quite an image, more like an emotion.

Fear. Longing. Regret.

She yanked her hand away, heart hammering.

"Mailah?" Grayson’s voice was sharp. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing. I just—" She swallowed. "The vial. It did something."

The car went silent except for Shadow’s contented purring.

"What kind of something?" Elin asked carefully.

"I don’t know. A feeling, maybe? Like it was trying to show me something."

Grayson’s jaw tightened. "Don’t touch it again."

"I wasn’t planning on it."

"I’m serious, Mailah. That thing is dangerous. Whatever magic it holds—"

"I know," she interrupted. "I felt it."

The weight of what they’d acquired settled over the car like a shroud. Even Lucien’s usual brightness dimmed, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against his knee.

They were almost back to the villa when Oliver spoke up. "We need to decide what to do with it. Tonight."

"Agreed," Elin said. "The longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes."

"Or the more necessary," Lucien countered quietly. "That woman said secrets are unraveling. What if she’s right? What if we need to know the truth before—"

"Before what?" Grayson cut in. "Before we tear each other apart with suspicion?"

"Before someone else does it for us," Lucien said, and there was something in his voice that made Mailah’s skin prickle.

She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw something she hadn’t noticed before. Worry. Deep, bone-level worry that he was trying to hide behind his usual levity.

"Lucien," she said carefully. "What aren’t you telling us?"

His smile was too bright, too brittle. "Nothing. I’m just being paranoid."

"Liar," Elin said softly.

Lucien’s facade cracked. He dragged a hand through his hair, suddenly looking older than his ageless face suggested. "I’ve been having dreams. About—" He stopped, jaw working.

"About what?" Oliver pressed.

"About betrayal. About choosing sides. About everything falling apart." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I thought they were just nightmares. But after today, after that woman—"

"You think she’s connected to your dreams," Grayson finished, his voice hard.

Lucien nodded. "What if she’s been in my head this whole time?"

The implications hung heavy in the air. If someone had been manipulating Lucien through his dreams, they could have been gathering information.

Planning. Preparing.

"We need to talk to Soren," Mailah said. "He might know what we’re dealing with."

"If he’ll see us," Grayson said grimly. "Dr. Morrison doesn’t do house calls without reason."

"Then we give him one."

They pulled through the villa gates just as the last light faded from the sky. The building looked different in the twilight—less charming, more imposing. Like it was watching them.

Shadow, having finished her chicken, leaped gracefully from the car and padded toward the house with regal authority, leaving them to deal with their supernatural problems.

"I love how she just walks away from chaos," Elin muttered.

"She’s smarter than all of us," Oliver said.

They gathered in the villa’s main room—a space that had seemed welcoming that morning but now felt too large, too full of shadows.

Mailah set the vial on the center table, and they all stared at it like it might explode.

"So," Lucien said. "Who wants to go first?"

"First with what?" Mailah asked.

"With our secrets. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? That woman—whoever she is—she wants us to doubt each other. To wonder who’s hiding what." He looked around the circle. "So let’s just... be honest. Put everything on the table."

"That’s a terrible idea," Grayson said immediately.

"Why? Because you have secrets you don’t want exposed?"

"Everyone has secrets," Grayson shot back. "That doesn’t mean they need to be weaponized."

"But what if our secrets are the weapons?" Elin asked quietly. "What if keeping them hidden makes us vulnerable?"

Mailah felt the weight of every lie she’d ever told pressing down on her. She was literally living someone else’s life, wearing someone else’s identity. If they were being honest—truly honest—she’d have to start there.

But the thought of losing this—losing them—made her chest constrict with panic.

"I’ll go first," Oliver said unexpectedly. Everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged, uncomfortable.

"I wasn’t just a random hire. Grayson, you know this, but the others don’t. I was sent to watch you."

The room went very still.

"Sent by who?" Lucien asked, his voice dangerous.

"By people who were concerned about a demon abstaining from his nature for centuries. They wanted to know if you were a threat to the supernatural community." He looked at Grayson. "I was supposed to report back monthly. I stopped six months ago."

"Why?" Grayson’s voice was carefully neutral.

"Because I realized you weren’t a threat. You were just trying to survive." Oliver’s jaw tightened. "And because somewhere along the way, you stopped being a mission."

Mailah watched Grayson process it, watched the way his hands clenched and unclenched.

"Who were they?" Grayson asked finally. "The ones who sent you?"

All eyes turned to Oliver.

"I don’t know. That’s the truth. Communication was anonymous, payments untraceable. But they had resources. Power. They knew things about you that shouldn’t be knowable."

"And you’re just telling us this now?" Lucien’s voice was sharp.

"I tried to tell Grayson months ago. He said he already knew."

Mailah gave Grayson a surprised look.