Zachary adjusted his cloak so it shielded most of his clothing, draping him in darkness. The sheer size and audacity of this festival surprised him. Obviously, neither of ECV’s new capos felt the need for discretion. A masquerade it might be, but party-favor masks did a poor job of hiding anyone’s identity. Even with his wolf mask, he felt too exposed where he stood on the threshold of the large dining hall.

He’d always been able to move in the shadows; a skill he’d taught himself at a young age. Sometimes, it would mean the difference between an evening of humiliation and simply another sleepless night.

He scanned the mask of every patron in sight, but he couldn’t see the one he was looking for. He was about to move through the dining hall, heading for the thundering dance floor, when a voice called out over the din.

“Princesa!”

Zachary paused before turning, ensuring that the movement looked natural.

There, a few yards away, stood a young woman with a painted face, a tall block of a man, and a third, more diminutive figure.

He was too far away to hear the rest of the exchange, but he saw the man in the devil mask clutch the woman’s hand reverentially before the beast beside her stepped in. Then the two of them swept up the stairs and disappeared into a passageway.

He’d recognized both the woman and the hulking man beside her.

One had killed Ailin. The other, Rodrigo.

Eleodora Rivera and her bodyguard. One of two, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Where the hell was Duncan?

Zachary slipped his phone from his shirt pocket and made a quick call. It was the seventh of the evening to the same number, and it harbored the same results.

This is Duncan. You know what to do.

Zachary strode back the way he’d come, glancing down the passage. Much further down the hall, Eleodora and her bodyguard were conversing with a third man. Neither looked in his direction as he turned and headed for the front door.

He spotted the guest registry, where the third of Eleodora’s clutch of bodyguards had left it; oh, yes, he’d recognized the pretty man who’d ushered him inside.

The man hadn’t recognized him though. Ignatius had been dull enough to circumvent suspicion.

Most of the names in the register had been struck through, but Dean—Ignatius’s plus one—hadn’t.

So it was confirmed; something had happened to Duncan. Zachary was on his own.

Zachary tapped the register with a finger, glancing at the hotel’s front door and then back to the curtains that led deeper into the hotel.

She was so close, he could almost sense her presence. But, if he chose to go forward with his plan, it could mean exposing himself to ECV. Of all the guests here, he could safely assume that at least half were loyal to the new capos.

Dean had been crucial to his plan. A necessary distraction. Now he had to get close to Eleodora without her suspecting him…and he had no idea who she would allow entry into her inner circle of bodyguards. Would the plan he’d set up with Martin’s son still work out in his favor? He still had his copy of the hotel’s front door key—he could use it now and leave without being detected.

And without Eleodora.

Zachary hissed out a breath and strode back through the curtains, intent on one last look through the crowd in case Duncan had somehow gotten inside.

In the yard of darkness between the curtain and the steps leading into the dining hall, Zachary bumped shoulders with someone.

“Lo promito,” the man said, his voice indicating he was already a few steps past Zachary.

He recognized that voice. He’d heard it only a few minutes ago.

“Por favor,” Zachary called back, turning around to the man.

“Que?”

“Uh…” Zachary attempted a fumbled phrase in Spanish, and then laughed at himself. “Bathroom? Restroom?”

“Si, si,” the man said, solidifying into a shadow that walked past Zachary. “I show you,” the man said.

Just before he faced forward, light from the passage they headed into caught on the man’s mask.

Zachary returned the devil’s leering grin with a smile. “Mucho gracias,” he murmured.