THE LIBRARY DOOR DIDN'T BURST OPEN with a blast of dark magic like they expected. There was no thunder, no shattering glass, and no terrifying roar.
Instead, the heavy mahogany door simply creaked on its hinges, swinging wide to reveal a man who looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a high-end fashion magazine.
He was tall, with a lean build and emerald-green eyes that sparkled with a mix of intelligence and deep-seated mischief.
He had on a simple white t-shirt and dark chinos that still looked expensive in a low-key way. His hair was a bit of a mess, with one stray lock falling over his eyes.
He held a messenger bag in one hand. He froze at the door, staring at the burnt rug and the five tall, soot-covered men.
"Grayson," the man said, his voice smooth and entirely too casual for a room that had just survived a magical meltdown.
The silence that followed was so heavy you could have carved it with a knife.
