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“We do not allow the hunters to live. You know that as well as I do.”

Drake shook his head with contempt. “Forgive me if we don’t wish to take that gamble.” He turned to Kenton just as a crack of thunder announced the arrival of the storm that had been brewing. “I suppose I should say that Rowan and I don’t wish to take that gamble. It seems my eldest brother has had a change of heart on the matter.”

The brother in question simply glared at Drake as the air between them crackled.

“What are you doing here?” Kenton finally asked.

“I want to see her.” Drake glanced at the door.

“No,” both he and Kenton said at the same time.

“Go to hell, Lawrence.” Drake took a step toward him. If the man wanted a fight, he would gladly accommodate him.

“Stop.” Kenton stepped between them, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know you don’t understand—”

“Is it too much to ask to meet the woman who tore our family apart?”

“Only because you allowed it to happen.”

Drake removed Kenton’s hand from his shoulder, the gesture full of contempt.

“Hello, Drake.”

All three heads whipped back toward the door, now open. Alessandra stood on the other side, her chin held high.

“Alessandra, don’t—”

“I’m not stupid,” she said to Kenton. “But your brother wanted to meet me, so here I am.”

Drake would not be able to enter, but it was a risk nonetheless—one Lawrence wished she hadn’t made. Kenton, for his part, looked even less pleased with her decision even though Laria stood right behind her.

Worse, a sensation prickled his spine that he couldn’t quite yet place. It could be related to Drake’s appearance.

Or not.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under better circumstances.”

Drake’s jaw twitched, but otherwise, he offered no reaction.

“If you take one step toward her . . .”

Despite Kenton’s words, Drake didn’t appear to be an immediate threat. He didn’t lunge toward the doorway or show any other signs of violence. He simply watched her for a moment longer and then turned toward his brother.

“You think I would kill her?”

All eyes turned toward Kenton. It was the very question Lawrence had been asking himself since Drake had landed on that balcony.

“Would you?” Kenton asked rather than answering.

Drake and Alessandra glared at each other, the tension as taut as a bowstring.

“I love her,” Kenton said. “This woman will be my wife.”

Lawrence watched Drake’s face closely, but he gave nothing away.

“Not . . . now,” Drake said.

With that, he turned without another word and walked away, around the wraparound porch and either down the side stairs or, if no one was watching, he may have jumped instead. He couldn’t tell from this vantage point.