Page 16 of The Hunter's Empire

I already know who it is before Caleb confirms it.

"Our men are behind us?" I ask quietly, my eyes still on the mirror.

"Yes." Nothing more.

The SUV remains several cars back, blending easily into late-night traffic. Invisible unless someone is specifically looking for it. Good.

Tonight already feels dangerous enough without making our security obvious.

Silence settles again after that, heavy but not uncomfortable. Caleb focuses on the road while I lean back against the seat, letting the city blur around me.

Somewhere in this city, powerful people are preparing to drink champagne beneath chandeliers while bidding on violence like it is art. Men with old money and clean public reputations gathering behind masks to hire a criminal they would publicly condemn in daylight.

And somehow, tonight, I am one of them.

I glance down at my reflection faintly visible against the darkened window. The black mask sharpens everything about my appearance, making me look colder than I feel. More untouchable.

Maybe that is a good thing. Because beneath the calm exterior, something restless keeps shifting inside me. Part anticipation. Part caution. And, frustratingly, part curiosity.

Domenico Valenti. Il Fantasma. The Ghost. Even thinking about the name feels dangerous.

The drive stretches longer than expected as we move farther away from the brighter parts of Manhattan. Buildings slowly grow older, quieter, wealth hidden behind iron gates and old architecture instead of glass towers.

Eventually, music becomes audible even through the closed windows. Deep bass. Muted laughter. The distant sound of a party already in motion.

Then the mansion comes into view.

The Blackwell House rises behind massive gates and perfectly trimmed hedges, lit with warm golden lights that spill across stone walls and towering windows. Luxury cars line the private driveway while elegantly dressed guests disappear behind masks and velvet into the estate.

From the outside, it looks like the kind of place wealthy elites gather for charity galas and political dinners. Not an illegal auction.

I exhale slowly.

Caleb parks near the entrance before stepping out first. By the time he opens my door, I already feel the shift settle over me completely. That familiar cold focus I wear before entering dangerous rooms.

I step out carefully, heels pressing against the stone driveway as the cool night air brushes against my skin. Somewhere behind us, the black SUV disappears farther down the road, our security team melting into the shadows exactly as planned.

My gaze lifts toward the mansion once more. Too elegant. Far too calm for the dangers within.

Caleb moves beside me as we approach the entrance together. Two security guards immediately step forward, their attention sweeping over us with trained suspicion.

"Invitation, please." The guard’s voice is calm, professional.

My steps slow slightly.Invitation?

I glance briefly toward Caleb before looking back at the guard. Stefano never mentioned needing one. For a second, irritation flickers through me. The security guard notices the hesitation immediately. His posture shifts subtly.

Suspicious. Wonderful!!!

Before I can say anything, a familiar voice cuts through from behind us.

"She’s with me tonight."

Relief would be too strong a word for what I feel hearing Stefano’s voice, but it comes close.

He steps beside me wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, dark mask concealing the upper half of his face. Even hidden behind it, confidence practically radiates off him.

Of course it does.