The woman flinched but did not lower her gaze.
“I swear. I woke up and—I don’t know how I came here.”
Malakai looked directly at Rhen and signed with his free hand.
She is not the priority. Cole is.
“I know.”
Rhen crossed the courtyard and closed one hand around the woman’s upper arm. Her skin was cold enough to register through the heat still trapped beneath his own.
She did not fight.
Whether through weakness, confusion, or calculation, she merely stumbled when he pulled her toward the doors.
Beauty meant nothing to him. Witches had used beauty as bait for longer than most creatures had possessed language.
Inside the compound, warmth closed around them.
It did not feel like shelter.
It sharpened every detail: the blood covering the brothers, the violence still clinging to their bodies, and the sound of Cole struggling for each unnecessary breath.
The woman wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the estate’s vaulted ceilings, dark wood, and candlelit portraits with open disbelief.
Malakai placed Cole upon the nearest couch with brutal care.
Cole’s body jerked. Veins stood beneath his skin like bruised lightning, and aftershocks continued moving through him in vicious pulses.
Malakai straightened and faced Rhen.
Do you think she is connected to the attack? Bait?
Rhen did not take his eyes from her.
“She is a witch. That is connection enough.”
The woman shook her head.
“I don’t know what is happening. I am not a threat.”
“You are here,” Rhen replied. “That is enough.”
Malakai’s hands moved sharply.
Deal with her later. Cole first.
Rhen remained motionless, his attention fixed upon the stranger like a weapon left unsheathed.
“Lock her somewhere secure until we know why she appeared on our doorstep.”
Panic sharpened the woman’s expression.
“I don’t want trouble.”
“Too late,” Rhen said. “You brought it with you.”
Malakai released a controlled breath and approached her. He took her arm and pointed toward the back corridor, his grip firm without becoming cruel.
