“Goodbye,” I whisper, touching the doorframe.
The air feels oppressive as we walk to the car, the house looming behind us like a physical threat. Dom slides behind the wheel with Liam beside him. Ryder helps me into the back before joining me, immediately pulling me against his chest.
As Dom pulls away from the curb, I continue to sob into Ryder’s shirt. His lips press against my hair, my temple, wherever he can reach.
“She was the only mother I really had,” I choke out. “The only one who saw me. And that might be all because my father killed…” I can’t manage to say it.
“I know, princess,” Ryder murmurs, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back. His other hand finds mine, prying my fingers open where they’ve clenched into a fist. “I know.”
His lips brush my wet cheeks, kissing away tears, before finding my mouth in a tender, comforting kiss. I melt into him,grateful for his warmth, for the steady beat of his heart against mine.
A few hours later,back at the penthouse, I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching darkness fall over the city. Martha’s letters sit in a neat stack on the coffee table, each one a testament to her quiet vigilance. A numbness has spread through me. A quiet clarity.
“You okay?” Liam asks, appearing at my shoulder with a glass of wine.
I take it, my fingers brushing his. “Not really. But I will be.”
Thoughts swirl like the burgundy liquid in my glass—my father’s rage, Martha’s protection, the possibility that my father took away my mother. I turn to face the three men who now form the corners of my world.
“I need something,” I say, setting down my untouched wine.
Dom steps closer. “Anything.”
I bite my lip. “Right now, I need to stop these spiraling thoughts. I need to just feel.”
All three of their eyes darken, and Liam clears his throat. “What did you have in mind?”
“I want to replay the Hunt.” The words hang in the air between us. “But on my terms this time.”
Ryder’s eyebrows lift. “What are those terms?”
“A home invasion. You three, wearing those masks from the Hunt, breaking in while I’m alone.” My voice grows stronger with each word. “I want to face that fear but knowing I’ve chosen it. That I have control, even when it looks and feels like I don’t.”
Liam studies me carefully. “This is about reclaiming power.”
“Yes.” I meet their gazes one by one. “I want this to be something I chose, something that empowers me.”
Dom takes my hand, his expression serious. “We’d need clear boundaries, a safe word.”
“Absolutely,” I nod. “And I want to fight back—really fight, not just pretend. I want to feel that resistance and then... surrender on my terms.”
Ryder’s hand finds the small of my back. “You’re sure about this?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything.” I lean into his touch. “The Hunt, my father—they all represent moments when my power was taken. I want to take it back.”
The three exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them before Dom speaks.
Dom’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “We already did something similar when I came to pick you up at your apartment, remember? You fought me, I took you anyway.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory of that night—how I’d struggled against him, scratched his chest, bitten his shoulder, all while growing wetter by the second.
“That wasn’t planned, though,” I say. “This would be... intentional. Structured.”
“We used a safe word then,” Dom continues. “Midnight. It worked well.”
Ryder moves closer, his eyes darkening with interest. “Exactly how do you want this to go, Cora? What are you imagining?”
I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling vulnerable despite being fully clothed in a room with three men who’ve seen every inch of me.
