Page 78 of The Hunter's Empire

"East staircase."

I take a sip of champagne. "Armed?"

His eyes flick briefly toward mine. "When aren't they?"

The longer the celebration continues, the more information we quietly collect.

At one point, I notice a familiar figure standing near one of the champagne towers. Roisin. Even from across the ballroom, something about her immediately catches my attention.

She looks stunning. The dark silk gown is high-necked and long-sleeved, its elegant lines softened by intricate embroidery and subtle detailing that catch the light whenever she moves. Despite covering almost every inch of skin, the dress somehow only makes her more striking, carrying the kind of quiet extravagance that demands attention without ever asking for it. Throughout the evening, guests continually drift toward her, drawn in as much by her presence as by her beauty.

Yet there is a distance in her eyes that wasn't there before. Or perhaps it was. Perhaps I simply failed to recognize it.

My gaze shifts toward Axel. The man rarely leaves her side. Whenever she moves, he follows. Whenever someone approaches her, he inserts himself into the conversation.

His hand repeatedly settles against her back as though reminding everyone exactly who she belongs to. A familiar feeling of unease settles in my stomach.

Nico notices the direction of my attention. "Don't."

I glance at him. "Don't what?"

His voice lowers. "Start a war in the middle of the ballroom."

I look away from Axel. "I wasn't planning to."

His expression suggests he doesn't entirely believe me. Unfortunately, I can't blame him.

A short while later, the orchestra gradually falls silent. The shift immediately captures everyone's attention. Conversations taper off. Guests turn toward the front of the ballroom. And Darragh steps onto the raised platform.

The room quiets almost instantly. Watching him command attention is strangely fascinating. He doesn't need to raise his voice. He doesn't need to demand silence. People simply give it to him.

"My friends." Darragh begins, raising a glass. "Tonight is not merely a celebration of succession. Tonight is a celebration of everything the Keegan family has built and everything we will continue building together."

Applause follows.

Darragh continues speaking. And the crowd hangs on every word. Several guests nod along in agreement. Others raise their glasses whenever he pauses.

It occurs to me then that this is why men like Fergus and Darragh remain so powerful. People want to believe them.

By the time the speech concludes, the ballroom erupts into applause. Music returns. Champagne begins flowing again.

And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the atmosphere starts to change. The formal structure of the evening begins to dissolve. People relax. Alcohol loosens tongues. Groups break apart. Guests drift between lounges, terraces, gardens, and bars.

What had once been a carefully organized event gradually transforms into chaos. Exactly what we have been waiting for.

As midnight approaches, the strain on the estate begins to show. Staff members rush frantically between guests. Several security personnel abandon their assigned positions to deal with increasingly intoxicated visitors.

Nico and I eventually find ourselves standing near one of the massive glass windows overlooking the lake behind the estate. Beyond the glass, darkness blankets the grounds. Inside, the ballroom continues pulsing with life.

Then the first firework explodes. The sound reverberates through the entire estate. Conversations stop instantly. Brilliant emerald light floods the ballroom through the towering windows.

Another explosion follows.

Within moments, guests begin abandoning conversations entirely as they move toward the windows and terraces to admire the display. The distraction spreads through the room exactly as planned.

People stop paying attention to each other. They stop paying attention to the estate. And to everything except the sky.

Beside me, Nico never looks up once. His attention remains fixed elsewhere.