THE GRAVEL CRUNCHED under their shoes as they stepped away from the car, the sound too sharp in the quiet evening.
The villa stood ahead of them—golden stone catching the last light of day, ivy clinging to its walls as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong here. The windows glowed softly, warm and domestic, utterly unconcerned with missing demons, shattered loyalties, or ancient princesses pulling strings from the dark.
It looked like safety.
Mailah didn't trust it.
Lucson had already put distance between himself and the vehicle, posture shifting automatically into something alert and watchful. His gaze swept the property in clean, practiced lines, as if expecting threats to announce themselves now that they were back in civilization.
Mason stopped near the trunk, checking his phone. Lucson, arms folded, already halfway gone in his mind.
"So," Mailah said, breaking the silence before it could swallow her whole. "You're leaving."
