I follow behind them toward the control room, my eyes drifting between Dominic’s broad shoulders and Liam’s perfect ass. Fuck, they’re so fucking hot. Dominic with that commanding energy that makes my skin tingle. And Liam with his intelligence and deceptive strength hidden beneath those tailored suits.
My cock stirs again at the thought of what tonight could bring. Three guys sharing one girl... there’s no way our bodies won’t connect. The math just doesn’t work otherwise. Crossing swords becomes inevitable in that kind of arrangement.
I wonder if they’re thinking the same thing. The way Dominic’s eyes lingered on me when I mentioned they weren’t hard on the eyes... and that subtle shift in Liam’s expression when he realized what I was implying.
These aren’t the kind of men who back down from a challenge. And there’s something about the Hunt that brings out desires we normally keep hidden. The raw animal instinct takes over once the chase begins.
Something about the possibility of feeling Dominic’s grip on my neck while Liam watches makes me harder than I’ve been in months.
It’s a way to destroy Pike, sure. But beneath that convenient excuse, there’s something darker and more primal brewing between us. I can feel it in the charged silences and lingering glances.
Three hunters. One prey. And boundaries that are about to blur in ways none of us are openly acknowledging yet.
5
CORA
My leg bounces uncontrollably as I sit in the plush leather chair in the dressing room of Purgatory. It’s more luxurious than most five-star hotels I’ve visited. The lights are dim, casting everything in a warm amber glow that should feel comforting but somehow just heightens my nerves.
“Stop fidgeting,” Mira whispers, her eyes scanning the ornate double doors across from us. “You’re drawing attention.”
I glance around at the other women—two I recognize from various social circles, two I don’t. All of us dressed in our chosen color dresses as instructed, looking like we’re ready to dance the pole in a strip club.
“Sorry,” I whisper back, though I’m not really. The nervous energy coursing through me isn’t entirely unpleasant. It feels like the first day of college, or that time I snuck out to a concert my father had explicitly forbidden. “I can’t help it.”
Mira leans closer, her voice dropping lower. “This isn’t a game, Cora. The Hunt isn’t some rebellious little adventure.”
“I know that.” But even as I say it, I can’t deny the thrill beneath my anxiety. For once in my life, I’m doing something completely outside my father’s carefully constructed world. Nopress watching. No reputation to maintain. Just me, making my own choice—even if it’s a reckless one.
“If your father knew?—”
“He’d lose his mind.” I can’t help the small smile that forms at the thought. “That’s kind of the point.”
Mira’s expression remains serious, her fingers tapping against her phone. “I’ve been researching this for a while. The rumors about what happens?—”
“They are just rumors,” I cut her off. “Besides, we signed all those papers. Everything’s consensual.”
The doors at the far end of the room swing open, and a tall woman in a crimson suit enters. My heart jumps to my throat as all conversation dies.
“Ladies,” she says, her voice smooth as aged whiskey, “it’s time for your final briefing before the Hunt begins.”
The woman in crimson clasps her hands together, commanding our attention. “Welcome to the Hollow’s Hunt. I’m Vivienne, your hostess for tonight’s... festivities.”
My gaze darts around the room, taking in each woman’s reaction. To my right, Mira’s face is a mask of practiced neutrality, but her white-knuckled grip betrays her. Across from us, Bianca—the artist from that downtown gallery—twists a strand of dark hair around her finger, her hazel eyes wide and alert. Next to her sits Keira, the dancer whose performances I’ve seen advertised around town. Her body appears perfectly still, but I notice the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusts the silver anklet on her right leg.
Sadie Reynolds hunches forward slightly in her chair. Her eyes keep darting to the doors as if trying to find escape routes.
Only Lia Morgan seems truly at ease, legs crossed elegantly, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips as if she’s anticipating the evening rather than dreading it.
“The rules are simple,” Vivienne continues. “Once you enter the grounds, you have a half an hour head start. Use this time wisely to put distance between yourselves and those who will pursue you. The Hunt concludes in seventy-two hours.”
“The most important aspect you need to understand,” Vivienne says, her red lips forming a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “is that by signing those contracts, you’ve temporarily waived all rights to consent during the Hunt period.”
A chill runs through me. I’d skimmed the paperwork, too eager for rebellion to pay proper attention to the fine print. Even if Mira had been blabbing to me about it the entire time.
“What exactly does that mean?” Sadie asks, her voice barely audible.
Vivienne’s gaze sweeps over us. “It means, my dear, that whatever happens during these seventy-two hours is entirely at the discretion of your pursuers. No safe words, no boundaries, no limits.”
