“You have a personal interest in this.” It’s not a question.
I lean forward. “Her father cost me millions on the waterfront development. Consider this... karmic balance.”
Xavier’s jaw works as he considers my request, tension visible in the slight clench of his teeth. There’s something in his eyes I didn’t expect—hesitation. It’s unusual for a man like Xavier Blackwood, who typically revels in plots of vengeance. The notorious Red Mask, reluctant about adding the mayor’s daughter to his twisted game?
Interesting.
“This could complicate things,” he finally says, tapping his fingers against his desk. “The mayor isn’t someone we typically target directly.”
I study his expression, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor when he glances at the door where Mira Sullivan just exited. Ah. Perhaps Ms. Sullivan has softened the edge of Ravenwood’s most dangerous man. How... inconvenient.
“Since when do you worry about complications?” I lean back, maintaining my composed exterior despite my growingimpatience. “I seem to recall you orchestrating far riskier scenarios for your own amusement.”
Xavier’s eyes narrow. “This isn’t about risk assessment, Dominic. It’s about timing.”
“The timing is perfect,” I counter. “Three days until the Hunt. Plenty of time to include one more participant.”
He falls silent, considering. I can almost see the calculations running behind those cold eyes—weighing the favor he owes me against whatever reservations are holding him back.
Finally, he gives a curt nod. “Fine. Agreed.”
The words are clipped, but they’re all I need.
“I can’t deny you,” Xavier continues, his voice lowering. “You’re calling in a legitimate favor.” He straightens in his chair, reasserting his authority even in acquiescence. “But tread carefully. This is still my Hunt, my rules.”
I incline my head in acknowledgment. Even in Ravenwood, there’s a code among men like us. Xavier may run this town from the shadows, but he respects the rules of debt and payment. It’s one of the reasons we’ve maintained our professional relationship for so long.
“I understand completely,” I reply, satisfaction warming my chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I step out of Xavier’s office, victory fresh in my veins. The mayor’s daughter will be mine for three days. Every slight her father inflicted, every public denouncement of my business practices—all of it will be paid back in full when I have his precious Cora begging for mercy.
The main corridor of Purgatory pulses with heavy bass. I adjust my tie, mind already racing with plans for the Hunt, when a blur of movement catches my peripheral vision.
She’s moving fast, determination in every step. Before I can sidestep completely, she nearly collides with me—a whirlwind ofchestnut waves and righteous anger. I pivot smoothly, avoiding the impact by inches.
Her eyes meet mine for the briefest moment.
Cora Pike. In the flesh.
Recognition hits me instantly. I’ve seen her on society pages, in campaign photos beside her father, at charity galas where she smiles that perfect, practiced smile. But photos don’t capture the fire in those green eyes or the way she carries herself—chin high, shoulders back, entitlement in every step.
She barely registers my presence; her gaze is fixed beyond me toward the bar where Mira Sullivan stands. Without a word or apology, she storms past, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in her wake.
I turn, watching her march toward her friend. The tailored blazer hugs her figure perfectly, expensive jeans clinging to curves that suggest the mayor’s daughter isn’t all business and politics.
Something dark and hungry unfurls inside me.
Breaking her will be exquisite. Not just for revenge, but for the sheer pleasure of watching that confidence crumble, replacing that fire with submission. And when it’s over, when the Hunt concludes with the traditional feast, I’ll watch Mayor Pike’s face as he realizes what’s happened to his princess.
The mayor never misses the final feast—his presence a testament to the power the Blackwoods hold, even over Ravenwood’s supposed leader. How delicious it will be to see his reaction when he understands exactly who has claimed his daughter.
2
CORA
Ipush my salmon around the plate, the silence between bites growing heavier by the second. Dad sits at the head of the table, scrolling through emails on his phone while Addison delicately cuts her food into perfect little squares. The clink of silverware against fine China echoes through our too-large dining room.
“Cora, darling, you’ve barely touched your dinner.” Addison’s voice carries that practiced concern that never quite reaches her eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”
