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One or two males at the table exchanged uncomfortable looks.

It was the German who spoke up first, his gaze glittering with interest. “What should happen if the collar is tampered with, or removed?”

Dragos grinned, not at the German, but at the Hunter himself. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Although her every instinct screamed at her to creep in like a thief on the prowl, Renata strode through the west corridor of her enemies’ lair as if she had every right to be there. She heard the low rumble of male conversation coming from one of the large rooms out back. Elsewhere in the house, there was nothing but quiet, until…

A child’s soft sobs, drifting toward her from a stairwell leading to the second floor.

Mira.

Renata flew up the steps and followed the cries to the end of the hallway. A bedroom door had been locked from outside. She ran her hand along the top of the frame but didn’t find a key.

“Damn it,” she whispered, drawing one of her blades from the twin sheaths at her sides.

She wedged the point between the door and jamb just above the lock and gave it a hard lever. The wood cracked, loosening just a bit. Twice more and finally she had enough room to jimmy the thing free. With shaking, eager hands, Renata opened the door.

Mira was in there, thank God.

Her veil was gone, and as soon as she looked up and saw the black-clad figure coming into the room, she scuttled into the corner in absolute terror.

“Mira, it’s me,” Renata said, flipping open her dark visor. “It’s okay now, kiddo. I’m here to take you home.”

“Rennie!”

Kneeling down, Renata held out her arms. With a hitching little cry, Mira flew into her embrace.

“Oh, mouse,” Renata whispered, pressing relieved kisses to the top of her blond head. “I’ve been so worried about you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. Are you all right, sweetheart?”

Mira nodded, her small arms wrapped tightly around Renata’s neck. “I was worried about you too, Rennie. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.” She hated to let go, but they still had to get out of there before Fabien and his cronies caught up to them. Renata stood, lifting Mira up into her arms. “We have to run now. Hold on to me, okay?”

Renata hadn’t even taken two steps with the child before the rapid blasts of automatic gunfire erupted from all directions somewhere outside the house.

Dragos was eager to demonstrate the technological beauty of the Hunter’s UV collar when all hell broke loose outside the gathering. He shot a killing look at Edgar Fabien as the group leapt out of their seats in stunned alarm.

“What’s going on out there?” he demanded of their host. “Is this another of your fuckups?”

Fabien’s narrow face took on an unhealthy shade of pale. “I-I don’t know, sire. Whatever it is, I’m sure my agents will handle—”

“Fuck your agents!” Dragos roared. He scrabbled for the radio and barked an order for the driver to bring the boat around, then got right up into the face of the Hunter. “Outside, now. Handle this. Kill anyone in your path.”

The Hunter—his highly trained, flawlessly obedient soldier—just stood there, as immovable as a pillar of stone.

“Get out there. I command you!”

“No.”

“What?” Dragos could not believe his ears. He felt the gazes of his underlings root on him. He could taste their disbelief, their doubt. A silence bloomed, ripe with measured expectation. “I issued you a direct order, Hunter. Do it, or I will terminate you right here and now.”

With more gunfire ringing just outside the walls of the house, the Hunter had the audacity to look Dragos square in the eye and shake his head. “Either way, I am dead. If you want me to fight so you can live, disable my collar.”

“How dare you even so much as suggest—”

“You waste time,” he said, apparently unfazed by the chaos rising all around them. “Release me from this shackle, you arrogant son of a bitch.”

Just then, one of Fabien’s feeble watchmen came rushing to the open doorway. “Sir, we’ve got incoming shots arriving from the entire perimeter.