“More than you know.” I grab my purse tighter. “Let’s go. I could use a drink, too.”
The cab ride to Twisted Spirits is mercifully quiet. Cora spends most of it texting someone—probably updating her socialite friends about her latest conquest: an invitation to the mysterious Hallows Hunt. I stare out the window, trying to process how spectacularly sideways this day has gone.
Inside the bar, we find a secluded booth in the corner. The place is upscale yet understated, featuring dark wood, amber lighting, and jazz playing at a volume just loud enough to ensure privacy without drowning out conversation.
“Two dirty martinis,” Cora tells the server before I can even open the drink menu.
“Make mine a whiskey. Neat.” My nerves can’t handle gin right now.
As soon as the server leaves, I pull out my phone and slide it across the table. “Read it. Now.”
Cora sighs dramatically but picks up the phone. “You’re being so?—”
“Read. Every. Word.”
Her eyes roll, but she begins scrolling through the document. I watch as her expression transitions from boredom to confusion to something approaching horror. Our drinks arrive as she reaches what must be the section detailing the Hunt itself. She takes a long sip of her martini without looking up.
“This can’t be real,” she finally says, placing my phone down like it’s contaminated. “This sounds like... like...”
“Like what?” I prompt, taking a slow sip of whiskey.
“Like we’re agreeing to be hunted? Like actual prey?” Her voice drops to a horrified whisper. “It says participants may be ‘physically restrained, confined, and claimed.’ What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means exactly what you think it means.”
She stares at me, olive-green eyes wide with disbelief. “And you signed this? Voluntarily?” She leans forward, lowering her voice further. “Mira, this sounds illegal. More than illegal—it sounds dangerous.”
I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, considering how much to reveal. “It’s not illegal if everyone consents. That’s what the NDA is for.”
“But why would you agree to this?” She grabs my wrist. “What could possibly be worth putting yourself in that situation?”
I meet her eyes steadily. “I have my reasons.”
“That’s not an answer.” Cora’s fingers tighten around my wrist. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I take a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one can overhear us. The whiskey burns pleasantly as I take another sip, gathering my courage.
“I’m investigating the Blackwoods,” I admit finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “For an exposé.”
Cora’s eyes widen. “You’re what?”
“I’ve been working undercover at Purgatory for three weeks.” I lean closer. “The Blackwoods aren’t just running an exclusive club, Cora. What’s happening there goes way beyond kinky parties for the elite.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Corruption. Money laundering. Drug trafficking. Maybe even human trafficking.” My fingers tighten around my glass. “But the deeper I dig, the more I realize it’s worse than I initially thought. Powerful people are protecting them, destroying evidence, silencing witnesses.”
Cora sits back, stunned. “And you think this Hunt will give you proof?”
“It’s my way in. Xavier is my way in.” I run a hand through my hair. “The Hunt is their most secretive event. Whatever happens there, it’s significant enough that they make everyone sign ironclad NDAs. I need to see it firsthand.”
“That’s why you tried to keep me away,” Cora says slowly. “You’re not just attending a party—you’re walking into danger.”
I nod, guilt weighing on me. “And you still have a way out of it.”
Cora stares at her martini for a long moment, then pulls out her phone. Before I can stop her, she’s signing the electronic document with her finger.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
