They drove past the open gate and a short distance up the drive, waiting while the second SUV cleared security. Once they were together again, the two SUVs started down the long twisting road to the house. A double row of trees, manicured to identical perfection, lined the drive, white lights twinkling in their boughs. It would have been pretty on any other night.

“Remember, gentlemen,” Duncan said coolly as they approached the house. “We go in quietly. There will be—” He stopped abruptly, head cocked slightly, as if listening to something none of them could hear. “He’s here,” he said, then shook his head, scowling. “And he’s not alone, but I still don’t recognize him.”

“Who?” Emma asked, since everyone else seemed to know.

“Max’s vampire ally.”

Ari parked in front of the house, backing in next to a line of expensive cars which presumably belonged to Grafton’s guests for the evening. Fortunately, it was a small party, so the senator hadn’t bothered with a parking service of any kind. A pair of guards flanked the front door, but unlike their counterparts at the gate, these two wore suits and carried no visible weapons. Emma was quite certain they were armed, however, and she touched her own gun somewhat self-consciously. She was wearing a jacket that concealed the Glock 9 mm tucked into her waistband in back, but it still seemed obvious to her.

“You can still wait in the truck,” Duncan said, for her ears only.

She turned her head sharply and scowled. “I’m going in,” she insisted.

His lips curled slightly. “It was worth a shot,” he murmured, then kissed her softly and added, “Be careful, Emmaline.”

* * *

Duncan stroked his knuckles over the softness of Emma’s cheek as Louis jumped out of the truck and pulled Duncan’s door open. He stepped out onto the gravel drive, with Miguel right behind him. Emma made an exasperated noise and hurried to follow, but Duncan didn’t wait. A whispered word dealt with the human guards as he climbed the steps and opened the front door. He found it curious that the guards were only human, when he knew for a fact that his vampire enemy was somewhere inside. Did the other vampire think Duncan could be fooled, that he wouldn’t sense his presence? A vast underestimation, if true, and a fatal mistake. He’d take great pleasure in pointing that out when they finally met.

Miguel and Louis were a step behind him to either side, as he walked into Grafton’s house. Ari was next, then Emma, with Baldwin right beside her and the six vampires from the second SUV ranging behind. Once through the door, they fanned out, except for Baldwin who had orders to stick to Emma like glue.

The front door opened into a huge room. The ceiling lofted overhead to more than two stories, with thick beams crisscrossing the open space. The floor was marble, and furniture was sparse, although there were plenty of plants clustered in a way that split the room into more manageable spaces while still leaving it wide open. It was a space made for large gatherings, and it was completely empty.

Duncan wasn’t fooled into thinking the house was empty, however. A quick sweep told him there were roughly twenty humans in the house, most of them gathered somewhere straight ahead. There were also . . . he paused briefly . . . twelve vampires, and among them he clearly tasted the mind of the master who’d tampered with Clint Daniels’s mind and suborned him into burning down Duncan’s residence.

“Twelve vampires, one master, twenty or so humans,” he said quietly. Most of the vampires Duncan had brought with him were strong enough to detect the humans as easily as he did, but not all of them would accurately count their vampire opponents. And Emma could do neither. He wanted her far away from the fight, but he also wanted her to know what they were up against.

Duncan started across the room, not wasting breath to tell his people what to do. These were all seasoned security operatives; it was why he’d chosen them. He slowed, then stopped a moment before the hard crack of boot heels announced what he already knew. Max Grafton was at last coming to greet his uninvited guests.

“Mister Milford,” Grafton said with false cordiality, entering the room through a corner doorway and walking toward them. “I’d heard you were dead. You’ll forgive me for being disappointed to find the rumors were mistaken.” He stopped ten feet away. “And Ms. Duquet. You’ve been far more trouble than you’re worth, my dear. At least Lacey—”

His next words were trapped in his throat along with his ability to breathe. There was no reason for Emma to listen to this man’s poisonous words about Lacey. Grafton was grabbing at his neck in a predictable, if useless, gesture. He could slit his own throat open, but still no air would reach his lungs until Duncan decided it was time. The senator fell to his knees and his face first turned red, then took on a bluish tint before Duncan released him.

Grafton fell forward, nearly doing a face plant as he sucked in a rasping breath and began coughing. “You bastard,” he gasped, glaring up at Duncan while tears ran down his face.

Duncan grinned, baring his fangs. “You’re wasting my time, Grafton.”

“You’ll pay for this.” Grafton’s voice was thready, but filled with hatred. “You’re not the only game in town.”

“Yes, I know. Shall we get on with it?” Duncan said, affecting boredom as his mind searched the house, looking for a trap.

It was Grafton’s look of shock that finally drew his attention. “You know?” Grafton sputtered.

Duncan spared the effort to look at the human directly. “That your pet vampire tried to burn down my house with me and mine in it? Of course—”

“I’m no one’s pet, Duncan.”

Duncan didn’t move, only his eyes shifted to follow the voice, recognizing his enemy at last. “Phoebe?”

Phoebe Micheletti strolled into the room, granting Grafton a disdainful glance as she stepped around his still kneeling figure. She stopped in front of Duncan, hands on her hips. “You’re surprised. Good.”

Duncan gave a negligent shrug. “I am. Not surprised enough to save you, but you were very clever.” Inwardly, he was seething, mostly in anger at himself. They’d never met in person before that first night at the grave site, but if he’d taken her blood oath then, he’d have known the taste of her mind and recognized later that she was the one who’d tampered with his guard. But she’d made damn certain he wouldn’t think it necessary. Had she already been planning to suborn someone from his daylight guard? Or was it simply caution on her part?

Phoebe was glaring her hatred at him. “Tell me, Duncan,” she said tightly. “Did you ever think to ask if any of us wanted the territory before you swept in like a vengeful angel? I’ve been waiting for more than a century—”

“That’s not how it’s done, Phoebe, and you know it. If you wanted the territory, you should have taken it. If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.”

“I’m the one who deserves it, the one who’s put up with Victor all these years, while—”

“And what was it you did for him?” Duncan demanded. “Dispose of the bodies? Help him brutalize those women?”

“I cleaned up his messes, just like I do everyone else’s, you bastard. That woman was already dead when I got there. All I did was get rid of her body so Victor’s precious politicians could pretend it never happened. We were going to move it to someplace permanent, but then you showed up and everything went to hell.”

“How many others were there? How many women were tortured while you sat back like a fat spider, watching and waiting? Doing nothing?”

“I wasn’t ‘doing nothing,’” she lashed out angrily. “I wasn’t strong enough to take him on alone. I had to wait, to get stronger, smarter, become a better fighter, build my own backup.” She made a beckoning gesture over her shoulder and vampires began to slip into the room behind her. “I’ve spent decades preparing, and now suddenly you appear out of nowhere, you and Raphael with your grand plans and your arrogance.”

“Raphael has always been fair with you. He treated you with respect, admiration even.”

“Oh, my.” She fanned herself theatrically. “Aren’t I simply the luckiest girl alive? Fuck Raphael,” she snarled. “I don’t need his patronage, his pats on the head like I’m some sort of clever pet or—”

“He never did that,” Duncan snapped coldly. “You forget. I was there.”

“Yes, you were there. Always by his side, currying his favor. His favorite lapdog. Victor had that much right about you. And now here you are, with Raphael’s blessing, I’m sure. A territory of your own, a gift for serving him so well for so long. But there’s something you don’t understand—”

“No, Phoebe,” Duncan said, cutting off her litany with a gentle smile. “It’s you who doesn’t understand.”

He released his power then, letting it rush out of him like water trapped behind a suddenly open dam. It roared through the room like a hurricane, battering the vampires who stood staunchly at his back, sending Max Grafton shrieking across the slick marble floor to crash against a nearby trio of urns. Behind him, he was aware of Emma gasping in surprise, but standing strong, her determination to stay and fight not wavering for a moment.

Phoebe stared at him, her dark hair a wild nimbus around her head, her eyes widening briefly, before they narrowed to angry slits. Her hands fisted at her sides, and Duncan felt the draw of power as she called upon the vampires who’d chosen to stand with her against him. One or two of those sent him triumphant glances, but the others avoided his gaze, as if hoping to escape detection. He scanned their faces quickly, not recognizing any of them. A more careful examination and he realized why. These were Phoebe’s own, vampires she’d made herself over the years while, according to her, she prepared for Victor’s demise. But they were young—the oldest was not even a hundred years, most far younger than that—and none of them was a master. Their presence would still help Phoebe, as much as doubling her power, especially if she was willing to drain them dry in order to win. But in the end, it still came down to Phoebe versus Duncan. And Duncan would win that battle.