Cora’s screams still echo in my memory, driving me forward even as my rational mind catalogs the tactical errors I’m making. Running blindly into unknown territory. Following the path of least resistance. Doing exactly what my captor expects.
What choice do I have?
I round a corner and find myself facing three different corridors, branching off in different directions. Each one is identical, each one equally dark and foreboding.
Another choice that isn’t really a choice at all.
23
XAVIER
Imove through the service corridors that crisscross like veins, each passage designed to let me intercept my prey wherever she chooses to run. The surveillance feeds on my phone show Mira’s frantic sprint through the pathways.
The spike trap worked perfectly. She dove through as the walls sealed, landing where I wanted her. Now, she faces the triple corridor junction, three identical paths stretching into darkness.
She doesn’t know that all three lead to the same destination.
My footsteps echo against the concrete as I take the most direct route to the pool chamber. The service tunnels lack the theatrical red lighting of the main maze, harsh fluorescents that cast everything in stark white. Purely functional, purely mine.
A sound stops me mid-stride. Knox’s distinctive laugh.
I pause at the maintenance door marked “Gallery Seven” and peer through the observation window. My youngest brother has Bianca pressed against an easel, her wrists bound with silk scarves to the wooden frame. Paint smears across her skin in deliberate strokes—blues and purples that match the bruises Knox has been carefully creating with his teeth.
“Art should hurt, shouldn’t it?” Knox murmurs against her neck. “Beauty through suffering. Isn’t that what you pretentious types always say?”
Bianca arches against her restraints, paint and arousal marking her skin. He’s turned her own passion into another form of bondage, using her sensibilities against her. Classic Knox—finding the psychological pressure point and applying enough force to make someone break.
The white mask conceals his expression, but I know him well enough. He’s enjoying every tremor, every whimper, every moment of his prey’s surrender.
I move past the window. Knox has his prey well in hand, and I have mine to catch again.
The service corridor continues for another hundred feet before ending at a heavy door marked “Pool Access - Staff Only.” I swipe my keycard and step into the mechanical room behind the pool chamber. The sound of filtration systems masks my approach as I check the tablet controlling the room’s various systems.
Water temperature is optimal. Lighting sequences are programmed. Restraint mechanisms are armed and ready.
Through the one-way glass, I watch the three corridor entrances. Mira will emerge from one of them within minutes, driven by desperation and the false hope that she might find another way out.
Instead, she’ll find exactly what I’ve prepared for her.
The pool stretches before me, dark water reflecting colored lights in hypnotic patterns. Beautiful and deadly, like everything else in my world.
I switch feeds on my tablet, pulling up the surveillance from Sector Five. There she is—Cora Pike, the mayor’s precious daughter, stumbling through her own carefully orchestrated gauntlet.
Three hunters circle her like wolves. Dominic Vega leads the pack. Liam Hayes flanks her right. Ryder Caldwell takes point, using his charm to herd her exactly where they want her to go.
“This way, sweetheart,” Ryder’s voice carries through the feed’s audio. “Trust me, you don’t want to go down that corridor.”
Cora’s breathing comes in sharp gasps as she weighs her options. She can’t see the trap waiting in the left passage—the pressure plates that will seal the walls and funnel her straight into their waiting arms. Ryder’s gentle guidance feels like kindness in the maze’s manufactured terror.
She takes his suggested path.
Perfect.
The beauty of it sends a sense of satisfaction coursing through my veins. Two best friends, both convinced they’re making their own choices, both being expertlymaneuvered toward their inevitable capture. Mira runs, thinking she can save Cora. Cora flees, thinking she can escape to help Mira.
Neither understands that their separation was always part of the design.
I watch Dominic’s subtle hand signals directing his partners, their coordination flawless. When Mira approached me asking for an invite for Cora, Dominic overheard. He’d been wanting a way to get back at the mayor, and violating his daughter appealed to him.
