I say nothing, remembering the bruise on her jaw. The way her shoulders squared when cornered. How she leaned into Dominic’s touch even as defiance burned in her eyes. That dichotomy speaks volumes.
Everyone sees the mask—the rebellious rich girl. But I recognize the performance because I’ve perfected my own. Behind my polished exterior is someone who clawed his way upfrom nothing, who learned to reflect what people expected to see.
Cora Pike does the same. She wears her defiance like designer armor, but underneath is someone desperately trying to escape a cage. I know that feeling intimately.
“Don’t underestimate her,” I warn them as we prepare to give chase. “There’s more steel in her spine than either of you realizes.”
Dominic rolls his eyes. “Save the psychological profile, counselor. We’re here to break her, not understand her.”
But understanding is power. And seeing myself in her doesn’t diminish my desire to possess her; it heightens it.
Because breaking someone requires knowing exactly where the fault lines lie.
The three of us stand in the corridor, listening to Cora’s footsteps fade into the distance.
“We need a strategy,” Ryder says, pulling a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket. “The maze changes every Hunt. Xavier gave me a rough map of this year’s layout.”
He sketches quickly on a blank page, outlining corridors and chambers. “She’s heading northeast, which means she’ll eventually hit this junction.” His finger taps a spot where several paths converge. “These three paths all loop back to the center eventually, but this one—” he traces a winding line, “—leads to the specialty rooms.”
Dominic examines the crude map. “Where specifically should we corral her?”
I study the pattern, thinking about Cora’s reactions to each of us. “The Red Room would be perfect. One entrance, plenty of... amenities. She’s smart,” I state, watching their expressions. “But she’s making snap judgments based on limited information. The way she looked at each of us, I sense that she thinks Ryder is the nice one.”
Both men turn to me, Dominic with a raised eyebrow, Ryder with a slow smile spreading across his face.
“How so?” Dominic asks.
“Your physical presence, the way you immediately took control of the space—you frightened her. I represented people that her father despises, which makes me guilty by association. But Ryder...” I nod toward him, “she responded differently to you. Your approach was more casual, less threatening. We can use that.”
Dominic’s eyes narrow. “How?”
“Ryder catches up to her first,” I explain. “Plays the sympathetic card. Says he can help her stay away from us, guide her somewhere safe to hide. He’ll claim he wants her for himself, that he can protect her from the other two big bad wolves.”
Ryder nods, catching on immediately. “Then I guide her straight to the Red Room.”
“Exactly,” I confirm. “Where Dominic and I will be waiting. She’ll walk right into our trap, thinking she’s found safety.”
Dominic considers this, then gives a curt nod. “Perfect. She’ll be completely off-guard when the door closes behind her.”
Our strategy set, a quiet tension fills the corridor as the final seconds of Cora’s head start tick away. Dominic checks his watch, his jaw tight with anticipation.
“Time’s up,” he announces. “Let the real Hunt begin.”
Ryder tucks his notebook away, flashing us a confident grin. “I’ll find her within fifteen minutes. The mayor’s princess isn’t as unpredictable as she thinks.”
“You’re sure you can handle this part alone?” I ask, deliberately challenging him.
He laughs. “I’ve tracked targets in Kabul during my military years. One frightened socialite won’t be difficult.” He taps his temple. “Besides, I’ve memorized her running patterns from the surveillance feed. She favors right turns when panicked.”
As Ryder disappears down the northeastern corridor, Dominic turns to me. “Let’s move. The Red Room needs preparation.”
We take the western passage—a service route unavailable to prey during the Hunt. Dominic moves with purpose, his footsteps nearly silent despite his size. The man carries power in his very posture.
“There’s a shortcut through section 6,” I tell him, leading us to an unassuming wall panel. “The maze reconfigures through pressure plates. Step here—” I press my foot against a slightly discolored floor tile, “—and here.”
The wall slides open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a narrow passage.
“How many times have you participated in these hunts?” Dominic asks as we navigate the hidden corridor.
