Mailah's breath hitched at the window. He looked like a god of death stepping out of a painting. His long black coat was completely dry, despite the storm outside. He stood tall, his hands resting casually in his coat pockets, his sharp face perfectly calm, but his deep blue eyes were entirely black.
"Oh, thank god," Chloe sighed, sagging against the ropes. "Grayson, tell these idiots they are stealing garbage."
Grayson ignored her. He walked slowly across the concrete floor, his heavy boots making a slow, rhythmic click against the stone. He stopped ten feet away from the two smugglers.
"You have broken my front gate," Grayson stated flatly, his voice echoing in the large room. "You have tracked mud onto my family chests. And you have tied my cousin to a chair with very cheap, abrasive rope."
The man with the crowbar took a step forward, trying to look tough. "Who the hell are you? This is private property. Turn around and walk out, pretty boy, or I'll split your head open."
