Page 29 of Royal Affair

I pulled up guest lists for every major Halloween event in the city while cross-referencing with what little movement data I had.

The dispatcher returned. "They picked up three women at that location at 8:40 PM."

The Underground. I flagged it in my initial Luxembourg security assessment months ago—a converted warehouse with multiple exits and minimal lighting. It's a security nightmare on the best of days, but on Halloween night with hundreds of costumed partiers? Someone might as well have designed it for an ambush.

My phone rang again—Carl.

"Banks, I've got contacts working at tonight's event. Three women matching their description entered The Underground about five minutes ago. One was wearing a silver mask."

That confirmed it. The club would be packed and dark, and hundreds of costumed people would fill multiple areas.

I pressed the accelerator, weaving through traffic. The princess thought she could disappear into the crowd, become just another masked party-goer. But she'd forgotten something crucial—before I was a bodyguard, I was a hunter.

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I hadn't been this angry—or this afraid—since Iraq.

The note's words echoed in my mind: "I know what you've done, princess." Someone was watching her, hunting her, and now she'd handed them the perfect opportunity.

I grabbed my backup phone and dialed Colonel Harrison—my former commanding officer, who now worked in intelligence.

"Harrison," I said as soon as he picked up. "I need a favor. Urgent."

"Banks?" He sounded alert despite the late hour. "What's the situation?"

"The princess I'm guarding slipped security. She's at a nightclub called The Underground in Luxembourg City."

"Not your night, is it?" His voice held no humor.

"I need people inside now. Someone with access, someone who can keep eyes on her until I get there."

"I've got an asset in Luxembourg," he said without hesitation. "Anton Keller—ex-military, very reliable. He's already working at ‌at The Underground tonight. I'll redirect him to assist you."

"Thanks."

"James," he said before I could hang up. "Is this just a princess running wild, or something more?"

My grip tightened on the phone. "Someone's been threatening her. Left a dead animal at her door with a note."

"Christ." A pause. "There's something you should know. Been meaning to call you. We've picked up some chatter about the Bellavista royal family. Specifically, about the princess."

My blood ran cold. "What kind of chatter?"

"Remember that incident five years ago? The one the palace covered up?" Harrison's voice lowered. "Our intelligence suggests there might be more to it than what's in the official record. Something in her past that could be relevant to these threats."

"Anything specific?" I pressed, taking a sharp turn.

"Nothing concrete yet. But there's a name you should watch for—Nikolai Voss. He's in Luxembourg and has been for abouta week. Known mercenary with Eastern European connections, suspected of involvement in several high-profile kidnappings."

The back of my neck prickled. "Why would he target the princess?"

"Unknown. But his presence isn't coincidental. Keep your eyes open."

I ended the call as my phone pinged with Anton's contact. The club was a converted warehouse with multiple exits—a security nightmare.

I pulled up outside, the bass from inside vibrating through the car. The line of costumed partiers stretched around the block.

Marcus pulled up beside me on a motorcycle. "Four exits total—main entrance, side door, loading dock in back, and fire escape on the east side."

"Harrison's sending someone, but I'm not waiting. We need to get inside now."