The Grey Heir

The Night Fire

The Night Fire

NIRA POV

My room in the East Wing was larger than the apartment I had shared with David, but it felt empty. Tall windows looked out over the foggy gardens. The furniture was dark oak and the four-poster bed still carried a faint smell of old dust. Halo had brought my bags up earlier along with a black medical case that held clean instruments, saline, and a portable monitor.

It was past midnight when the crash came.

I sat up at once. The sound of breaking glass was followed by heavy footsteps running past my door. I pulled on a cardigan, grabbed the emergency kit, and stepped into the hallway.

Two security guards in black suits were moving fast toward the end of the corridor. At the far end the double doors to William’s private suite stood closed, but a low flickering light showed underneath and a deep rhythmic thumping came through the wood.

I was halfway there when the doors opened and Ethan Cain stepped out. He was fully dressed in his black suit, silver hair neat even at this hour. He pulled the doors shut behind him and held the handles. Inside the room William let out a raw roar. More glass broke. Something heavy hit the wall.

Ethan turned and saw me. His face showed concern, the kind of steady worry that comes from years of watching the same thing happen.

“Dr. Dickson,” he said. “I came to bring Master William his evening tea and found him already in the middle of an episode. Be careful.”

I stopped in front of the doors. The old manager looked genuinely worried. His devotion to the family was well known. Still a quiet question settled in my mind. Why was the house manager inside the patient’s bedroom after midnight? Why had he stayed alone with a man in a violent episode instead of calling me or security the moment it started?

There was no time to ask. The noise inside grew louder.

“Put the restraints away,” I told the guards. They had already taken leather straps from a cabinet. “Sensory overload gets worse when you fight it with force. Step back.”

Ethan spoke carefully. “Dr. Zack always used heavy sedatives and restraints. I have looked after Master William since he was a boy. He can be dangerous when the rage takes him.”

“I am in charge of his care now,” I said. “Leave the room to me.”

Ethan inclined his head and moved back with the guards, eyes still on the door.

I opened the doors and stepped inside.

Books, broken glass, and scattered papers covered the floor. One set of heavy curtains had been torn down. Moonlight cut across the room. William stood leaning against a dresser, black shirt open at the collar, skin slick with sweat. His breathing was hard and uneven. His eyes were dark and unfocused, trapped somewhere else.

“Get out,” he said, voice rough. “Stay away.”

“William.” I kept my voice even and my hands where he could see them. “It’s Dr. Dickson. Nira. You are in your bedroom at the Grey Estate. You are safe.”

“Noise,” he muttered. He slammed a bloodied fist against the wood. “Fire. Blood. Won’t stop.”

“Look at me.” I took one slow step over the broken glass. He turned toward the sound, body tight, ready to strike. I did not move back and I did not raise my voice.

“You are having a sensory attack. Your brain is reading light and sound as pain. No one is going to tie you down. No one is going to hurt you.”

He stared at me, chest rising and falling hard. The fact that I stayed still seemed to reach him more than the words.

“I can help lower the pressure,” I said. “May I touch your face?”

He did not speak, but the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.

I stepped closer and placed my hands lightly against his temples, pressing over the nerve lines behind his ears. He drew a sharp breath. Heat poured off his skin. I held the pressure steady, slowing the pulse I could feel under my fingers.

“Focus on my voice. Count backward from ten with me. Ten.”

“Nine,” he managed.

“Eight. Seven.”

“Six… five…” His head dropped forward until it rested against my shoulder. The rigidity in his arms began to fade.

I reached into the kit with one hand, drew a small dose of a mild nerve-calming compound that would not suppress breathing the way the old sedatives had, cleaned a spot on his upper arm, and gave the injection without shifting him.

“Four. Three.”

“Two…” His voice was already softer.

His knees gave a little. I guided him down until he sat on the edge of the bed. The flush left his face. His eyes cleared slowly.

I took gauze from the kit, sat beside him, and began cleaning the blood from his knuckles.

William looked around the ruined room as if seeing it for the first time. He looked at the bandage forming on his hand, then at me.

“What happened?” His voice was low and rough. “I was at my desk… then everything went dark.”

“You had a severe sensory episode,” I said while I finished the bandage. “Do you remember anything just before it started?”

He frowned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “No. Just heat in my head and the sound of glass. I was alone.”

I kept my expression steady, but the words settled cold in my chest. He did not remember Ethan in the room at all.

From the open doorway Ethan stood in the hallway watching us. His face showed quiet relief, the look of a man who had served the family for decades and was glad the worst had passed.

I looked back at William, who was leaning against the pillows with his breathing finally even. The pieces were beginning to line up, and the picture that formed made my blood run cold.

Whatever had set off the attack tonight, Ethan Cain had been standing right in the middle of it knowing or unknowingly.