Page 107 of Beyond Enemy Vows
We approach the security checkpoint where two of the men in dark suits step forward.
"Mr. Petrou," one nods to Niko. "Miss Kastaris. We need to check your belongings."
Niko empties his pockets and removes his watch, placing them in a tray. I offer my clutch.
"Arms out, please," the other guard says.
I raise my arms as they run a metal-detecting wand over my body. It passes without a sound.
"You'll need to leave your bag here," the first guard says. "Security protocol."
"Of course," I smile, watching as he carries my things away. He hands a numbered tag to Niko, who slips it into his inner pocket.
"No pockets, I take it," he says with a smile and a wink. "I'll hold onto it."
I laugh, pretending not to be fraying at the edges. "Exactly why I bring you."
We walk along a stone path that leads us uphill through a manicured garden lit with flickering lanterns and twinklingstring lights. From the pictures in the magazine, it looked like a movie set. In person, it's even more beautiful.
I've memorized this layout. Studied pictures of every room, so seeing it in real life makes it all too real.
Music drifts from the main house.
We pass by the ballroom's arched entrance and I catch movement from the corner of my eye. A flash of copper-red hair. Keira, dressed in a server's uniform, standing near a hedge with a tray of champagne. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second before she ducks out of view, making sure Niko doesn't spot her. My pulse jumps, but I keep my expression neutral.
We enter the grand ballroom and into a world I'm not ready for.
Chandeliers glitter overhead. Music floats from a live quartet in the corner. The floor is a sea of glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos.
And at the far end of the room, surrounded by men in suits and fake smiles, stands Stavros Petrou.
My breath catches.
Nothing prepared me for the reality of seeing him in person, the man I'm here to kill.
He's laughing, face animated as if he's never done anything wrong in his life. As if he didn't murder my father.
Niko stiffens beside me. I feel it in the way his hand tightens slightly around mine.
Stavros's eyes sweep the room and land on us. He raises a glass toward us. His smile is charming, hollow.
I smile back, even as bile creeps into my throat.
Niko does the same, minus the smile, his face a blank mask. He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me in another direction.
"Let's mingle," he says, steering us through the crowd.
We shake hands. Make small talk. I'm introduced to politicians, business moguls, heirs to shipping dynasties and oil fortunes. I nod and smile, memorize names I'll forget the second I walk away.
And all the while, I'm scanning the room. The security detail is heavy but discreet. Men in suits with earpieces, positioned at strategic points throughout the ballroom and garden. More than I thought there'd be.
Finally, I spot the one face I've been searching for.
Declan.
He's moving around the room, his height making him easy to track now that I've spotted him. Our eyes meet briefly, and I feel a flicker of reassurance.
The vial.
