THE WOMAN HE HIRED

15

The food arrived in waves—containers thudding onto the table, the sharp smell of garlic and spices cutting through the sterile edge of tech and weapons. For a few minutes, no one talked. Forks clinked, Sage made an appreciative sound that was borderline obscene, and even Enzo paused his screens long enough to eat.

Ramsi had just taken her second bite when Tate spoke up, tone shifting back to business.

“So,” he said, glancing between Dominic and Enzo, “you two got any connections to the gala coming up this week?”

Dominic looked up slowly. “Which gala?”

Tate wiped his hands, pulling his tablet closer. “Charity one. Old money. High security. Invite-only. I pulled intel that Hall might surface there. Not hands-on—watching. Evaluating.”

Sage frowned. “Of course he’d pick something shiny and crowded.”

“It’s a perfect hunting ground,” Ramsi said calmly. “Control, anonymity, exits.”

Enzo nodded once. “And plausible deniability.”

Dominic set his fork down. “Yes. We have connections.”

Sage brightened immediately. “Oh good. Because I was about to suggest breaking in through catering and I feel like you’d judge me.”

Enzo deadpanned, “I am judging you.”

Dominic ignored them. “The gala is hosted by a foundation we underwrite. Enzo sits on the security oversight committee.”

Tate’s brows lifted. “So we can get in clean.”

“Very,” Dominic said. “But if Hall is there, it won’t be obvious. He’ll use proxies.”

Ramsi nodded. “Then we don’t hunt him. We let him notice us.”

Sage paused mid-bite. “You’re saying we walk in.”

“In plain sight,” Ramsi said. “Different masks.”

Tate smiled slowly. “That’s risky.”

Ramsi met his gaze, unbothered. “So is letting him move unchecked.”

Dominic watched her for a moment longer than necessary before speaking. “We’ll need roles. Cover stories. Security rotations.”

Enzo swallowed, already planning. “I’ll handle access and camera blind spots.”

Sage leaned back, satisfied. “I call not wearing heels.”

Ramsi smirked. “You’ll survive.”

The room shifted again—food finished, focus sharpening.

A gala.

Lights, music, money, and secrets.

And somewhere in that polished crowd, Hall might finally make a mistake.

The gala venue glowed like a jewel box—glass, gold light, soft music threading through polished stone. Valets moved with practiced precision, security subtle but everywhere.

Dominic stepped out of the car first, already in a tailored black suit that fit him like armor.

Then Ramsi followed.

For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t in tactical gear or dark jeans or a jacket built for movement. She wore a sleek, understated dress—dark, elegant, deceptively simple. Hair pinned back just enough to expose her neck. No weapons visible. Nothing about her screamed danger.

And yet.

Dominic stopped short.

Actually froze.

Ramsi noticed immediately. “What?”

He cleared his throat once. “Nothing.”

Enzo, stepping out behind them, gave his brother a knowing look. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Dominic replied automatically.

“You are,” Enzo said calmly.

Across the drive, another car door opened—and Sage emerged.

Enzo did a full double take.

Not subtle. Not smooth. A full, honest pause.

Sage smirked without looking at him. “Careful. You keep staring like that, I’ll assume you’re malfunctioning.”

Enzo recovered quickly, adjusting his cuff. “I was… recalibrating.”

“Sure you were,” Sage said sweetly.

Tate came last, straightening his jacket as he took in the scene—and then burst out laughing.

“Oh wow,” he said, pointing between Ramsi and Sage. “You two clean up dangerously well. I’m used to you in hoodies and leggings. This feels illegal.”

Ramsi turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Finish that sentence carefully.”

Tate held up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just saying—seeing you dressed up like this makes it harder to forget you’re both highly trained killers.”

Sage added, “You forget that on a regular basis?”

Ramsi stepped closer to Tate, voice low and perfectly calm. “Keep talking and I’ll remind you how quickly I can punch someone in formalwear.”

Tate laughed harder. “There she is. I was worried the dress changed you.”

Dominic watched the exchange, amusement flickering—but his attention kept pulling back to Ramsi, the way she moved with the same controlled confidence, just wrapped in silk instead of shadows.

Enzo leaned toward Sage quietly. “You understand this is a security nightmare.”

Sage smiled, looping her arm through his without warning. “Relax. We’re the nightmare.”

Music swelled as the doors opened, light spilling out.

Masks on. Roles assumed.

Dominic offered Ramsi his arm. She took it without hesitation, eyes sharp, posture flawless.

As they stepped inside, the polished world of the gala swallowed them whole.

And somewhere in the crowd, a hunter was watching—

unaware that tonight, the ghosts had decided to be seen.