“It is. Tell me, Mia, do you think Coop is civilized?”
The question caught me off guard. “I think he can play at being civilized when needed.”
“Exactly.” Oliver seemed pleased with my answer. “We all wear masks. The main event simply…removes them.”
He wanted to tell me what the main event was. He was fairly buzzing with the desire. If I could get him to, I could feed the info back to Coop, give him as much prep time as possible.
I gave Oliver my most beguiling smile. “Don’t you want to tell me what the main event is?”You sick bastard.
Before he could respond, the song ended. Oliver lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that lasted a beat too long.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mia. Thank you for the dance.”
He released me and walked away, leaving me standing alone on the dance floor. Coop appeared at my elbow immediately, his hand finding the small of my back.
“You okay?”
“Fine. He’s just…unsettling.”
“What did he say?”
I repeated the conversation as we moved to the edge of the dance floor, accepting champagne from a passing server.
“Strips away civilization’s pretty lies?” Coop’s expression darkened. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Maybe it’s more shooting. Or hand-to-hand combat.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
The party continued deep into the night. I made myself useful, memorizing every face I could. The buyers were an eclectic mix—some looked like businessmen, others like soldiers, a few like academics. All of them had that same hungry look in their eyes when they discussed the weapons Oliver would be showing them.
I watched Coop work the room, playing his part perfectly. The dangerous arms dealer with connections everywhere, evaluating Oliver’s inventory with professional interest. He dropped hints about his own network, contacts in Eastern Europe and South America who might be interested in future deals.
Every conversation was a chess move, gathering information while revealing just enough to maintain credibility.
The champagne flowed freely, loosening tongues. I caught fragments of conversations about shipment routes, payment methods, contact protocols. Each piece of information was filed away in my memory, hopefully another nail in Oliver’s eventual coffin.
It was nearly two in the morning when the energy in the room shifted. The quartet stopped playing, and Oliver moved to the small stage they’d been occupying.
“Gentlemen,” he began, his voice carrying easily through the space. “And ladies, of course. The evening has been delightful, but now it’s time for what you’ve all been waiting for.”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. Several of the buyers moved closer to the stage, eager anticipation on their faces.
“The Gathering is about more than commerce,” Oliver continued. “It’s about proving ourselves worthy of the cause. About demonstrating that we’re not soft modern men, but warriors capable of doing what’s necessary.”
Coop’s hand found mine, squeezing gently.
“For generations, men have tested themselves through the hunt. It’s the oldest proof of superiority—predator and prey, stripped down to its essence.”
My blood chilled. A hunt?
“Tonight—or rather, this morning—we continue that tradition. The hunters will use only what nature gave them. No weapons, no tools. Just their strength, their cunning, and their will.”
The crowd was fully engaged now, some of them actually rubbing their hands together in anticipation.
“The prey will receive a one-hour head start. After that…” Oliver smiled, the expression transforming his face into something inhuman. “The hunt begins. The hunter who captures their quarry claims victory and all the rights that come with it.”
“What prey?” someone called out. “Deer? Wild boar?”
