The silence of the royal residence was serene, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside and the distant ticking of the grand clock in the hallway. Gray stirred in her bed, a sharp unease pricking at her senses. Her eyes snapped open, her instincts screaming at her that something was wrong. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to remain still, listening intently to the silence.
Her fingers reached instinctively under her pillow, wrapping around the small pistol she always kept there. Years of combat experience told her this feeling was never without reason.
Quickly and silently, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet making no sound against the cold floor. She moved toward the door, pausing to press her ear against it. The hallway beyond was quiet, but the oppressive tension in the air told her the peace wouldn't last.
Her mind immediately went to Queen Amara and Mireille. Without wasting a moment, she crossed the hallway to Mireille's room first, knocking softly but urgently. "Mireille," she whispered. "It's Gray. Open up."
The door creaked open, revealing Mireille's wide-eyed, confused face. "Gray? What's wrong?"
"Stay inside," Gray instructed firmly. "Don't make a sound. Lock your door, and don't open it unless it's me. Do you understand?"
Mireille nodded, the seriousness in Gray's tone snapping her out of her confusion. "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure yet," Gray admitted. "Just do as I say."
Satisfied that Mireille would follow her instructions, Gray moved swiftly to the Queen's quarters. She knocked softly but insistently until the door opened, revealing Amara in a silk robe.
"Gray?" Amara asked, her voice calm but curious. "It's late—what's happened, Dear?"
"I need you to stay inside your room and keep quiet," Gray said, her voice low but commanding. "Something's wrong, Mama. I'll explain later, but for now, you must trust me."
Amara's expression grew serious. "Is it an attack?"
"I think so," Gray replied grimly. "Please, stay here and lock the door behind me."
As she turned to leave, a faint sound reached her ears—a muffled pop, like a gunshot from a silencer. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head toward the staircase at the end of the hall, where a shadow moved against the dim light.
Gray's grip on her pistol tightened. She turned back to Amara. "Change of plans. There's no time to explain. You need to use the secret passage in your quarters—now."
Amara's eyes widened, but she nodded, moving quickly toward the hidden panel near her wardrobe.
"What about you?" Amara asked, her voice filled with concern.
"I'll hold them off while you call for reinforcements," Gray said firmly.
"You can't do this alone," Amara protested.
Gray's gaze softened, but her tone was resolute. "Mama, please. You know I can't come with you. Mireille's still in her room. You have to fetch her through secret passageway. I'll buy you time."
Amara hesitated, her maternal instincts at war with the logic of Gray's words. Finally, she nodded. "Take care, I'll call for help."
"I will," Gray replied. "Now go."
Amara disappeared into the secret passage, the hidden door closing behind her with a soft click. Gray stood there for a moment, steadying her breathing and focusing her thoughts.
As she crept back toward the staircase, Gray heard the unmistakable sound of more footsteps—multiple men moving through the halls. Her mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation. She had expected a small team of intruders, but the coordinated movements and the sheer number of footsteps suggested something far more organized.
Her pistol raised, Gray moved like a shadow through the corridors. She caught sight of the first man, a masked figure sweeping the area with a silenced rifle. Without hesitation, she aimed and fired, the suppressed shot taking him down before he could react.
The sound of his body hitting the floor alerted the others. Voices called out in low, urgent tones, and Gray cursed under her breath. The element of surprise was gone.
More men poured into the hallway, their movements methodical as they attempted to flank her. Gray ducked into a nearby alcove, firing precise shots that dropped two more attackers. Her movements were fluid, almost graceful, as she weaved through the shadows, always staying one step ahead.
But the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming. As Gray retreated deeper into the residence, she realized this was no ordinary raid. These men were highly trained, their tactics eerily familiar.
Her breathing was steady, her mind focused despite the chaos around her. She used her surroundings to her advantage, leading the attackers into narrow corridors where their numbers worked against them.
She took down another man with a perfectly timed strike to the throat, then disarmed another with a swift kick that sent his weapon skidding across the floor. But her stamina was starting to wane.
Gray's ears caught the sound of heavy boots approaching, and she turned to see a tall, imposing figure enter the corridor. The man's face was partially obscured by a mask, but his presence was commanding, his movements precise.
"Well, well," he said, his voice deep and cold. "You've caused more trouble than I anticipated."
Gray didn't respond. Her eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she assessed the situation.
The leader raised his weapon, and Gray lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding the shot. But she wasn't fast enough to dodge the second. Pain exploded in her abdomen as the bullet tore through her flesh, and she staggered back, clutching her stomach.
Despite the searing pain, Gray's grip on her pistol remained firm. She raised the weapon, her eyes blazing with defiance as she faced the leader and his men.
The hall was lit up with the sound of gunfire as the attackers closed in, but Gray held her ground, determined to protect the family she had vowed to defend.