Page 47 of Daggermouth

Three guards headed toward the bedroom where their captain was already searching, converging on the hallway. Greyson forced himself to remain by the door, knowing that following would only draw suspicion. His fingers curled into his palm, nails biting crescents into skin. Beside him, Shadera had gone perfectly still, the stillness of a predator sensing a shift in the wind—sensing danger.

The master bedroom door opened. Greyson heard drawers sliding open, the rustle of clothing being moved as the captain searched. One guard was checking behind artwork on the walls. Another had dropped to his knees, running the scanner along the baseboards. The third—

The third opened the closet door.

Time dilated. Greyson listened as the sound of the guard’s boots thudded into the walk-in closet, heard hangers scraping against the rod as clothing was pushed aside. The man would check the walls first, then the ceiling, then—

“Captain.” The guard’s voice carried from the closet. Greyson’s stomach plummeted. “Walls seem solid, but I should check—”

“Leave it,” Mikel interrupted. “The President wants this done quickly. If the Daggermouths managed to smuggle any surveillance devices in here, our preliminary scans would have detected it.”

The boots’ tread grew louder as he exited the closet, the officer moving to check the bathroom instead.

Greyson allowed himself a microscopic exhale.

His shirt had gone damp underneath the Veyra uniform jacket, and the tremor in his hand had begun working in overdrive. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back, and tried to mimic some semblance of a man unbothered.

Twenty minutes stretched like hours. The guards were thorough but not exhaustive, their search designed more to establish presence than to actually find anything. His father’s real message was clear.

I own this space now. I own you both.

Finally, Mikel approached. “The sweep is complete, sir.” He paused, mask tilting toward Shadera. “Any attempts to leave will be interpreted as violation of the President’s directive.”

“Understood,” Greyson managed, his voice steady despite the adrenaline still flooding his system.

“Not you, sir. Just her. Of course you may come and go as you please, uninterrupted,” Mikel responded as Shadera scoffed.

That was a lie.

He could no longer exist uninterrupted, let alone walk the streets of the Heart without being watched from every angle. Greyson nodded in response, not trusting himself to speak. Right now, his words would only lead to violence.

The Veyra filed out in formation, the door clicking shut behind them. Greyson waited exactly three seconds, then reached up and pulled the obsidian mask from his face. The cool air hit his skin like absolution. He placed the mask on its stand by the door then pulled open the entry table drawer.

The scanner was where he’d left it, small and inconspicuous. His father would have had devices planted—he was too paranoid not to. He pulled it out, then pulled out the handgun he always kept pushed to the back in case of emergencies and tucked it into the back of his waistband. He would sleep with it now if he had to. He wasn’t going to take any chances with an assassin was living under his roof.

Greyson powered on the device, the display showing a subtle electromagnetic field overlay of the room. He began at the door, moving in slow, methodical sweeps.

Behind him, Shadera remained where she’d stood during the entire search, watching him with those calculating eyes. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck as he worked, could sense her processing this new information about him—that he didn’t trust his own father, that he had secrets worth protecting, that he was perhaps more than just the Heart’s obedient Executioner.

The scanner picked up its first device embedded in the entertainment center’s speaker. Greyson marked its location mentally and continued his search.

They were now prisoners in a glass cage, every word and movement monitored.

The scanner picked up two more devices—one behind the mirror in the hallway, another embedded in the kitchen’s exhaust vent. Greyson marked each location in his mind, creating a map of his father’s surveillance network. There would be more.

“You should—”

“Don’t fucking speak,” Greyson snapped, cutting Shadera off as his eyes flickered from the scanner to her face.

She stared back at him for a long moment, her features hardening even as understanding dawned on her face.

She was a fucking cunt, but she wasn’t stupid.

She stayed silent, pressing her lips together in a tight line as she gestured for Greyson to continue. Another device, tucked into the window’s black metal frame.

“Actually, fuck you.”

I take it back. She is fucking stupid.