CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Marco’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The composed, enigmatic man I had seen moments ago was gone—replaced by someone colder, sharper. His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides as his gaze swept across the ballroom.

Something was wrong.

I took a hesitant step forward, but before I could call his name, he turned, barking out orders to the men stationed discreetly around the room.

“Lock down the exits. No one leaves until I say so.”

A shiver ran down my spine. The air grew heavy with tension as the guards moved swiftly, their expressions grim.

People in the ballroom were oblivious for now, laughing, drinking, swirling across the dance floor. But I could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere, the weight of something unseen pressing in.

Marco’s head snapped toward one of his men, who had just rushed up to him. They exchanged a few hushed words, and whatever he was told made his already sharp expression darken further.