MAILAH KEPT CLOSE BEHIND GRAYSON, glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, expecting another shadow to emerge from the mist.
But nothing came. The only sounds were their own breaths, the soft churn of mud, and the distant hum of crickets that had somehow survived in this godforsaken part of the world.
After a while, Grayson broke the silence. "You did well back there," he said without looking at her. "Most people would've panicked."
Mailah let out a strained laugh. "Who says I didn't?"
He gave a short, amused sound—more breath than laugh—but it warmed her all the same. "You hid it well enough."
The path rose gradually, leading them out of the marsh and into a slope lined with wet grass.
In the distance, beyond a break in the trees, Mailah saw the faint shimmer of light.
Not moonlight—something warmer, steadier. The soft glow spilling from the upper windows of Grayson's estate.
