“So,” Lia says, settling deeper into the velvet cushions, “anyone have weekend plans after surviving this?”
Keira laughs, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I was supposed to choreograph a music video shoot on Monday. Assuming I still have functioning legs.”
“Optimistic,” Sadie mutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I have three client presentations scheduled. Corporate cybersecurity isn’t exactly forgiving of mysterious bruises.”
Cora grins. “I’m supposed to attend a charity luncheon with my father. Can you imagine explaining why I’m walking funny?”
“You could always blame it on new heels,” Liasuggests, her voice dripping with amusement. “Works every time.”
The normalcy of the conversation feels surreal given our circumstances. I watch these women—strangers bound together by signed contracts and porcelain masks—trying to pretend we’re at some sort of twisted dinner party.
“What about you, Mira?” Bianca asks. “Any mundane responsibilities waiting?”
“Deadline for a story.” The irony isn’t lost on me. “Though I doubt my editor would accept ‘participated in underground sex hunt’ as justification for being late.”
“Underground sex hunt,” Keira repeats thoughtfully. “When you say it like that, it sounds even more insane.”
“Because it is insane,” I say, leaning forward. “Which is why I think we should stick together. Watch each other’s backs, maybe form some kind of alliance against these masked men.”
The words hang in the air, and I can see the women processing the suggestion.
Lia laughs—a rich, throaty sound that makes me uneasy.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
Her amber eyes fix on me intensely. “You came here to investigate, fine. Cora came here to rebel against Daddy. But I came here to be hunted. To finally experience something real instead of the sanitized bullshit that passes for excitement in my usual world.”
She stands gracefully, her onyx hair catching the dim light. “I’ve spent years playing it safe, making calculatedmoves, building my gallery brick by boring brick. Tonight, I want to feel dangerous. I want to know what it’s like when control is stripped away.”
“Lia—”
“No.” Her voice cuts through my protest. “I signed that NDA knowing exactly what it meant. I put on this dress knowing exactly what message it sends.” She smooths the fabric over her curves. “And I will wear this mask knowing exactly what happens when the hunt starts.”
The door opens without warning, cutting through Lia’s declaration like a blade.
Xavier Blackwood steps inside, and every molecule of oxygen seems to vanish from the room.
He’s nothing like the polished criminal mastermind I’ve grown accustomed to seeing at Purgatory. Gone is the expensive tailored suit, replaced by black riding leathers that hug his frame like a second skin. A simple black T-shirt stretches across his chest, the casual outfit somehow making him appear more dangerous than any designer clothing ever could. His dark hair is disheveled, as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
But it’s his eyes that rob me of oxygen.
Steel-gray and intense, they lock onto mine the moment he crosses the threshold. Not Cora’s, despite her political pedigree. Not Lia’s, despite the way she pushes her chest out and makes eyes at him.
Mine.
Heat floods me instantly, a traitorous response that makes my cheeks burn beneath the porcelain mask. Myheart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m certain everyone can hear it over the silence that’s fallen.
I should look away. Should break this connection that feels like a live wire between us. It’s crucial to remember that this man is my target, my story, my enemy.
Instead, I find myself drinking in every detail. The way the leather molds to his muscular thighs. How his T-shirt reveals the corded strength in his forearms. The slight sheen of sweat at his temples suggests he’s just come from somewhere important, somewhere that required speed and urgency.
His lips curve into the barest hint of a smile, and I feel like he’s reading every inappropriate thought crossing my mind. That he can see past my carefully constructed walls, straight to the part of me that responds to his darkness with an answering hunger I refuse to acknowledge.
“Ladies.” His voice commands the attention of everyone in the room, even though his gaze never wavers from my face. “I trust you’ve had time to get acquainted.”
Cora shifts beside me, and I catch the sharp intake of breath from one of the other women, but I can’t tear my attention away from Xavier long enough to see who. The way he’s looking at me makes my skin feel too tight, makes me hyper-aware of every breath, every heartbeat.
“The hunt begins in fifteen minutes,” he continues, finally breaking eye contact to address the room. “Before we proceed, there are additional details you should be made aware of.” His tone is clinical now, businesslike, asif he’s discussing quarterly reports instead of our impending ordeal. “The Hollow’s Hunt isn’t merely a private affair between yourselves and the hunters.”
