Page 20 of The Hunter's Empire

No announcements. No spectacle. Discreet. Like everything else tonight.

Stefano’s gaze drops briefly toward my invitation card still resting in my hand. "Still interested?"

I look toward the hallway where the selected guests are slowly disappearing one by one. Then I think about the Keegans, the empire, the resistance waiting for me back home, and the man known as Il Fantasma.

Curiosity alone should not feel this dangerous. But somehow, tonight, it does.

"I didn’t come here to hesitate." I say finally.

Stefano holds my gaze for a second longer before offering me his hand. I slip mine into it, and together we follow the others toward the private wing.

Chapter 6

Zora

Aquieter tension settles over me as Stefano and I stop in front of the second entrance hidden beyond the ballroom. The music from the party still reaches us faintly through the walls, softened now into distant bass and muffled laughter. Strange how easily people separate elegance from depravity. One room away, people are dancing beneath chandeliers. In this one, they are preparing to auction violence.

The gate towering in front of us is black steel trimmed in gold, subtle enough to look refined but heavy enough to stop a bullet. Security stands everywhere. Not loud. Not obvious. The dangerous kind. The ones trained to notice everything without appearing to look at all.

I hand over my invitation without hesitation. Number eleven.

The guard scans it carefully before his eyes move to me, assessing, calculating. I hold the stare until he looks away first.

Beside me, Stefano remains relaxed, one hand resting casually in his pocket as if this is another corporate event instead of an illegal gathering hidden beneath Manhattan wealth.

Our phones are collected next.

One of the guards places mine into a black lockbox before sliding it toward me. I enter the code silently and watch the device disappear inside. Stefano does the same beside me.

Efficient and controlled. No room for mistakes.

I expected criminals. What I find instead is discipline, procedure, and precision sharp enough to rival any government facility.

Interesting.

The massive doors finally begin to open with slow mechanical precision.

Before stepping through, I glance once toward Caleb standing farther behind us. He doesn’t speak. Just gives a slight nod. Ready if things go wrong.

I reach discreetly beneath the slit of my gown, fingers brushing the grip of the gun strapped securely against my thigh. The familiar weight settles something cold and practical inside me.

Good.

The room beyond is drenched in muted gold light and old money. Crystal decanters gleam across black marble counters while low jazz hums somewhere in the background. Velvetfurniture. Dark wood walls. Antique paintings worth more than most companies. Every detail whispers exclusivity without needing to prove it.

The air smells faintly of whiskey, cigar smoke, and expensive perfume.

I take it all in quickly, cataloguing exits, security placements, blind corners, and the people occupying the room. The people always matter the most.

There are fewer guests here, but somehow that makes the atmosphere heavier. More intimate and dangerous. Conversations stay low, controlled. Nobody raises their voice because nobody here needs to.

Money speaks quietly.

I glance toward Stefano as we move farther inside. "You’re bidding too."

A faint trace of amusement crosses his face beneath the mask. "I didn’t come for the music."

"Then why involve me at all?"