GRAYSON LEFT WITHOUT A WORD.
One second he was by the hearth, firelight gilding the sharp lines of his face, the next he was simply… gone—moving past the shelves, past the antique globes and leather chairs, his steps so quiet the room didn't register them until the library door clicked shut behind him.
Mailah blinked, thrown by the abruptness.
Carson exhaled. "Well. That's encouraging."
Mason shot him a look. "Don't."
Carson raised both hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything. I merely breathed."
Lucson didn't follow Grayson. He didn't even glance toward the door. His calm was deliberate, the kind that didn't come from a lack of emotion but from a decision to hold it down.
Ravenson's gaze remained fixed on the empty space where Grayson had been, expression unreadable.
