The garden behind the mansion was quieter than usual— too quiet for a place guarded by men who walked like ghosts with guns pressed to their ribs. Their boots crunched over gravel, pacing in restless circles, scanning the trees, the skies, shadows that didn't exist. It was the kind of silence that hummed beneath danger, the kind that lived inside heartbeat spaces.
Raya walked beside Grigor, matching his long stride even though her legs wanted to tremble. The path curved past the trimmed hedges and cut roses, past the glinting windows of the mansion that looked like cold, watchful eyes, and toward the waterfall.
Not the tall, dramatic kind, just a modest cascade of water sliding over smooth stone, the sound softening the world like a whispered lullaby. Mist kissed her face as she settled on the flat rock near the edge. Grigor sat beside her, stiff as carved iron, his eyes fixed ahead.
Minutes passed.
And passed.
And passed.
Grigor said nothing.
