Page 56 of The Hunter's Empire

"That sounds like a personal problem."

"It is." Darragh points directly at him. "See? This is exactly what I mean."

The laughter grows louder.

Standing beside Domenico, I remain silent while observing the people surrounding us. The hunting party is exactly what I expected and somehow worse. Old money. Political influence. Inherited power.

The men wear expensive hunting jackets and tailored boots that cost more than most people's monthly salaries. Their wives and companions stand nearby holding glasses of champagne despiteit being barely mid-morning. Everything about the gathering feels carefully curated.

My gaze drifts across the clearing. The woods stretch endlessly in every direction, dense and beautiful beneath the pale Irish sunlight. The scenery almost succeeds in distracting from the fact that a dead animal is currently being dragged through the grass by attendants. Almost.

Eventually, my eyes find Roisin. She sits alone on a stone bench near the edge of the gathering, positioned as far away from the hunting platform as physically possible. Even from this distance, her displeasure is obvious. I also notice that, once again, she is dressed in a high-necked, long-sleeved dress despite the sun overhead and the humidity hanging in the air.

The moment she catches me looking, she rolls her eyes dramatically. I nearly smile. The expression translates perfectly. Men. Guns. Traditions.

I suspect she would rather be doing almost anything else.

"You look about as thrilled as Roisin." The deep voice beside me pulls my attention back. Domenico.

I glance at him. "And yet here I am."

His eyes briefly flick toward the rifle that has already been prepared for Darragh. "You disapprove."

It isn't a question.

"I think there are easier ways to prove masculinity."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "I'll let Darragh know."

"Please do."

"I enjoy watching him become offended."

That almost earns a laugh from me. Before I can respond, several guests begin calling Darragh forward.

"Your turn! Let's see if the future king of Ireland can actually shoot. You've spent enough time talking."

Darragh groans dramatically. "Animals. All of you."

One of the older men raises his glass. "Coming from the man who organized the hunt?"

More laughter follows.

Darragh accepts the rifle from one of the attendants before checking the chamber himself. The casual familiarity with which he handles the weapon is unsettling. Not because he looks dangerous. Because he looks comfortable. As though violence is simply another skill he learned alongside reading and learning mathematics.

He glances toward Domenico. "You know, one day I am going to beat you."

"No." The answer comes immediately.

Several people laugh while Darragh places a hand over his chest. "You see this, Vivienne?" He gestures dramatically toward Domenico. "This is what I have tolerated for years."

"I imagine it has been difficult."

"Thank you. Finally, someone understands."

Domenico looks entirely unimpressed.

Darragh points at him again. "That attitude is exactly why I dislike you."