MAILAH STOOD in the kitchen, watching Grayson methodically prepare his usual breakfast—espresso that could strip paint and toast that he inevitably burned because he never paid attention to the toaster timer.
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 seemed 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. "Remember—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.
