Page 84 of The Hunter's Empire

We move quickly through the corridor toward the main hall, but the closer we get, the worse the chaos becomes.

Terrified guests rush past us in expensive gowns and tuxedos. A maid nearly collides with me before stumbling away in tears. Somewhere below, glass shatters loudly enough to echo through the entire manor.

Then a scream rings out. Not surprised. Not frightened. Agonized. The kind of scream that makes your blood run cold.

Nico immediately pushes both Roisin and me behind a stone column at the corner of the corridor. "Stay down."

He leans forward just enough to look into the main hall below. Whatever he sees immediately darkens his expression.

I move beside him and glance down.

The celebration has become a battlefield. Guests are crawling for cover. Security teams are returning fire from behind overturned tables. Smoke hangs in the air. Shattered crystal litters the marble floor below.

Nico's eyes narrow. For a brief moment, he studies the attackers moving through the hall.

Then his jaw tightens. "This isn't random."

"What?" I ask.

"The attackers."

Another burst of gunfire interrupts him.

Nico keeps watching. "I've seen that symbol before."

"What symbol?"

"The tattoo." He looks back at me.

"A windrose?"

Recognition flashes across his face immediately afterward. "'Ndrangheta."

The name sends a chill down my spine. One of the most powerful criminal organizations in Europe. And they're here. Inside the Keegan estate. Inside a mansion full of rival syndicates and powerful families. Which means this isn't an attack. It's a massacre.

Nico immediately pulls us farther behind cover as another volley of bullets tears through the hall. The air smells like smoke and gunpowder now. Screams echo through the manor. Somewhere below, security teams are desperately trying to regain control while guests flee in every direction. For a brief moment, everything becomes chaos.

Then Nico reaches inside his tuxedo jacket. My eyes follow the movement automatically. He pulls out something black. A mask.

The material is sleek and matte, designed to conceal most of his face leaving his eyes. Without hesitation, he slides it on and secures it into place with practiced efficiency, as though he has performed the action hundreds of times before.

The transformation is immediate. Terrifyingly immediate.

For a second, I can only stare. Because suddenly I know exactly where I've seen that mask before.

Not here. Not in Ireland. Not during this mission.

A year ago around the beach. Aurelia.

My pulse stutters. No!

The man who appeared and disappeared before anyone could stop him. Before I could stop him. Il Fantasma. The Ghost.

For one stunned second, all I can do is stare at him. At the man standing beside me. The man I've spent weeks arguing with. Trusting. Working alongside. The man who shared my room. My plans. My secrets.

Nico turns toward me. His dark eyes lock onto mine through the mask. "Zora."

I straighten immediately. I do not have the time to dwell on this. I need to get out of Ireland alive.