Page 52 of The Hunter's Empire

“Especially in this family.” Roisin mutters.

Several people laugh, including Darragh.

The moment is brief, but it eases some of the tension around the table.

As the evening progresses, the conversation gradually shifts toward business. On the surface, everything sounds legitimate. Beneath the surface, I suspect every topic carries layers that are never spoken aloud.

Most people focus on whoever is speaking. I focus on everyone else. The exchanged glances. The moments of hesitation. The reactions people fail to hide quickly enough.

Several times throughout dinner, I catch Fergus watching me. His attention never lingers long enough to appear rude, but it happens often enough for me to notice.

The scrutiny makes me uneasy. It feels as though he is measuring something. Looking for inconsistencies. Deciding whether I belong here.

Beside me, Domenico appears completely comfortable. He participates when necessary, remains silent when it benefits him, and somehow manages to control the flow of conversations without ever appearing dominant.

Nobody dismisses him. Nobody questions him. That alone tells me more about Lucien's position in this world than any intelligence report ever could.

By the time dessert arrives, one thing has become painfully clear. Getting into the Keegan estate was the easy part. Staying inside it without making a mistake is going to be far more difficult.

Chapter 13

Zora

Dinner stretches well into the evening, and by the time the last of the guests begin drifting away from the table, the atmosphere inside the manor has changed. The formal scrutiny of introductions and first impressions has eased into something more relaxed. Conversations break into smaller groups. Glasses of whiskey replace wine. Laughter occasionally echoes through the corridors.

I take advantage of the shift immediately.

Roisin excuses herself from a conversation near the fireplace, and I fall into step beside her as she leaves the dining room. Neither of us is in any hurry. We walk slowly through one of the manor's quieter corridors, our footsteps muted against the polished floors.

The walls are lined with portraits that seem to watch us pass. Generations of Keegans stare down from gilded frames, their expressions varying from stern to unreadable. The entire manor feels steeped in history, and not all of it feels pleasant.

My gaze drifts toward one of the portraits lining the corridor. "What was it like growing up here?"

Roisin follows my gaze and smiles faintly. "Complicated."

I laugh softly. "That bad?"

"Not always." Her eyes linger on one of the older paintings. "Some of my best memories are here. Some of my worst are too."

For a few moments, we walk in comfortable silence.

The longer I spend around Roisin, the more I like her. Unlike most of the people gathered inside the manor, she doesn't seem interested in power games or subtle intimidation. There is an honesty to her that feels almost out of place here.

Eventually, I decide to steer the conversation somewhere useful. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

She looks at me curiously. "What is it?"

"I have a habit of jogging before bed." I shrug slightly. "Usually with music. It helps me clear my head."

Understanding immediately crosses her face. "And your electronics got confiscated."

"Unfortunately."

She laughs. "Darragh would confiscate oxygen if he thought people could smuggle information through it."

That earns a genuine laugh from me. "I am starting to realize that."

"Wait here."