Page 79 of The Hunter's Empire

"What do you see?" I ask quietly.

"The opening."

My pulse quickens. "You got the cameras?"

His gaze remains fixed on the residential corridor. "Already handled. The loop's running."

I turn to stare at him. "And when exactly did you pull that off?"

"About five minutes ago."

I blink. "How?"

He lifts his wrist slightly. The watch.

My eyes narrow. "That wasn't part of your outfit earlier."

One shoulder rises in a small shrug.

"Where did you get it?"

The shrug remains my only answer. Of course.

Another mystery to add to the growing list of impossible things surrounding Domenico Valenti and the alarming ease withwhich he seemed to smuggle equipment into places that should have been impossible to breach.

"How much time do we have?"

"Eleven minutes." The answer lands heavily in my stomach. Not enough.

Nico must read it on my face because he finally looks at me. His expression has changed completely. The charming fiancé disappears. The playful teasing vanishes.

"We get in." He says quietly. "We open the locker and take whatever Fergus is hiding. And we leave." Simple. Terrifyingly simple.

The opportunity we've spent days waiting for finally stands in front of us.

Nico studies the final security movement near the residential wing before turning fully toward me.

His dark eyes lock onto mine. "It's time."

Chapter 18

Zora

The moment Nico says those two words, every other sound around me seems to fade into the background. It's time.

For days, everything has been leading toward this. Every forced smile. Every lie. Every carefully rehearsed interaction. Every second spent pretending to be Lucien Moreau's fiancée while we quietly mapped the estate and searched for weaknesses.

Now the opportunity is finally here.

I force myself to take a slow breath. The hardest part isn't moving. It's not looking like you're moving with a purpose.

Panic gets noticed. Urgency gets noticed. And right now, the last thing Nico and I can afford is attention.

Without saying another word, Nico places a hand against the small of my back and begins guiding me away from the crowd. His touch is light enough to appear natural, intimate even, but there is an unmistakable purpose behind it. We move through the ballroom at the same leisurely pace we have maintained all evening, weaving between guests and servers carrying trays of champagne.

To everyone around us, we look like a couple seeking privacy. Nothing more. And nobody spares us a second glance.

The closer we get to the ballroom doors, the louder my heartbeat becomes. I can feel it in my throat. In my wrists. In the tight knot forming in my stomach.