GRAYSON SAT BEHIND HIS DESK, his fingers steepled, watching the door as if he expected David and his band of corporate wraiths to dematerialize through the wood.
The silence was absolute, save for the frantic, rhythmic ticking of Mailah's heart. She stayed frozen against the window, her gaze fixed on the leather bag. It sat there, slumped and pathetic, its secret already revealed.
Mailah let out a long, shaky exhale. "It's done? Really done? The Sigil is safe?"
Grayson rose from his chair.
He rounded the desk, his gaze locked on Mailah with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
"'It' is beyond Valerius's and my reach," Grayson said, his voice a low, dangerous hum. "He spent the day chasing a bag of paperweights and monitoring my espresso intake while it was being transported."
Mailah started to laugh—a bubbly, relieved sound. "He really thought... he really thought you'd carry it in your work bag. He thinks you're that arrogant."
