Page 67 of The Hunter's Empire

For a moment, the room falls silent as I study the documents spread across the table, searching for solutions that aren't there. The problem remains exactly where I left it, stubborn and immovable.

When I finally look up, I find Nico watching me with an expression I can't quite read.

"We'll figure it out." He says quietly.

The confidence in his voice catches me off guard. It's not arrogance. It's certainty. And for some reason, that certainty settles something restless inside me. I should probably find that concerning. Instead, I find it reassuring.

Eventually he pushes himself off the bed and walks toward the chair where his fresh shirt is waiting. The discussion is over.

For now. We have a target. A rough plan. And a very small window to make it work.

As he pulls the shirt over his head, I find myself watching him longer than I should. Maybe because my mind is still running through possibilities. Maybe because I'm trying to convince myself that trusting him isn't a mistake. Either way, I don't look away fast enough.

And… Nico notices. Again.

A slow smirk appears on his face. "Careful, Elf."

I grab the nearest pillow and throw it directly at his head. He catches it effortlessly before it can hit him. The smug bastard actually has the audacity to grin. I shake my head and push myself off the bed before I do something even more embarrassing. Or worse, something that makes him think he's winning.

Without giving him another response, I turn and head toward the bathroom attached to our room. His laugh follows me across the bedroom as I reach for the door handle. By the time I step inside and close the door behind me, the sound is still echoing in my ears. Infuriatingly enough, I find myself fighting a smile of my own.

Chapter 16

Zora

The atmosphere around the Keegan estate feels different from the moment I wake up. At first, I cannot explain why. Nothing appears dramatically wrong when I open my eyes.

The bedroom is exactly as I left it the night before, the curtains remain half-drawn, and the estate itself is still wrapped in the soft gray light of early morning. Yet there is a tension hanging in the air that wasn't there yesterday, something subtle but impossible to ignore.

Then I hear the sound of engines outside. Not one. Several.

Curiosity immediately gets the better of me. I cross the room and pull back the curtain, only to find the long driveway leading to the manor packed with arriving vehicles. Black SUVs roll through the gates one after another while armored sedans follow closely behind them, creating a convoy large enough to make itclear that whoever is arriving this morning is not an ordinary guest.

Below, the estate staff move with unusual urgency. Guards who normally appear relaxed and confident suddenly seem alert, their attention fixed on every vehicle entering the property. Even from the second floor, I can feel the shift in energy spreading throughout the estate.

Behind me, I hear movement. Nico emerges from the bathroom, adjusting the cuff of his shirt.

He follows my line of sight toward the window. For several seconds, neither of us speaks.

"What do you think?" I finally ask.

His gaze remains fixed on the courtyard. "I think the Keegans are preparing for someone important."

The answer does nothing to ease my curiosity. If anything, it makes it worse. Because families like the Keegans do not rearrange an entire estate for ordinary visitors.

By the time we reach the main hall downstairs, the mood has shifted even further. Guests who spent the last few days drinking, laughing, and pretending this place is nothing more than a luxurious country estate now stand clustered together in small groups, speaking in lowered voices. Several conversations stop the moment new people walk past. Others continue behind carefully practiced smiles. Then the front doors open.

The effect is immediate. It is almost fascinating how quickly a room can fall silent. One moment dozens of conversations fill the hall. The next, every eye is focused on the two men entering through the doorway.

The older man walks in first. He carries himself with the kind of confidence that only comes from decades of power. His silver-blond hair is neatly combed back, his expensive dark coat fits perfectly across his shoulders, and his pale blue eyes move calmly across the room as if he already owns it.

The younger man is somehow worse. Broader. More intimidating. The faint scars crossing his face do little to hide the fact that violence has been a familiar companion throughout most of his life. Unlike his brother, he smiles as he enters the hall.

The smile does not make him look friendlier. It makes him look dangerous.

I do not know either man's name. But judging by the reactions around me, everyone else does. Even Darragh wastes no time crossing the room.

He immediately steps forward to greet the two men, and the subtle tension that has been hanging over the estate all morning suddenly makes perfect sense.