My breath comes in ragged gasps. Something catches my ankle—my own foot, a loose stone, I don’t know—and I stumble, catching myself against the wall with outstretched hands. My palms sting as they scrape against rough concrete.
“No time,” I whisper to myself, forcing my trembling legs back into motion. “Keep going.”
The adrenaline surging through my veins makes everything hyperreal—the sound of my feet slapping against concrete, the rustle of fabric as I move, the copper taste of blood coating my tongue where I bit my lip. I’ve never felt more alive yet never been more terrified.
Right turn again. I’m making too many rights. I’m probably running in circles, but I can’t stop to think. Stopping means being caught, and being caught means...
My mind shies away from the thought, unable to process what these men plan to do with me over the next seventy-two hours.
10
RYDER
Ifollow the sound of panicked breathing, tracking her through the maze like a hunter after wounded prey. The corridors twist and turn, and I deliberately make my footsteps audible, then silent, playing with her fear.
When I round the corner, she’s backed against the wall, hair wild, dress torn. Beautiful in her terror.
“Stay back!” Cora’s voice cracks as she holds out her hand. Her eyes are wide, searching desperately for an escape route. “Don’t come any closer.”
I raise my hands, the picture of harmlessness. “Whoa, easy there. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Right,” she scoffs. “That’s exactly what the other two said before they surrounded me like wolves.”
I take a slow step forward. “Dominic and Liam? Those guys are ruthless monsters.” I lower my voice, infusing it with what sounds like genuine concern. “Look, I’ve seen what they do to the women they catch. It’s not pretty.”
Her eyes narrow. “Then why are you here? This is all just a sick game.”
I grin at her accusation, not bothering to deny it. “It is a game. And yeah, I enjoy it.”
Her eyes widen, and I watch fear and confusion battle across her face. Such an expressive woman. Every emotion plays out like cards on a table.
“The difference is,” I continue, stepping closer, “I prefer my prey to be into it. Makes everything more... satisfying.”
Cora presses herself harder against the wall. “You’re all the same.”
“Not exactly.” I lower my voice confidentially. “Dominic and Liam have scores to settle with Daddy Dearest. They want revenge. Pure and simple.” I shrug casually. “Me? I just want fun. And you look like someone who could use a little fun after living under Pike’s thumb.”
I close the distance between us and brush a strand of hair from her face. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I whisper. “Those two are going to find us soon. And when they do, they’ll have their way with you, one way or another.” I trace my finger lightly along her jaw, careful to avoid the bruise. “But what if you and I have some fun together first? I claim you before they can get in on it.”
Her breathing quickens. “And why would I agree to that?”
“Because I’ll protect you.” The words come out more genuinely than I’d planned. “Look, the Hunt lasts seventy-two hours. That’s a long time with two vengeful assholes. But if you’re with me...” I let the implication hang.
I slide my hand to her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the torn fabric. “I can make this good for you. And I can keep the worst of their revenge fantasies in check.”
She’s trembling under my touch, but I notice something else in her eyes now. Calculation. She’s weighing her options, seeing a potential path through this nightmare.
“What’s it going to be, Cora?” I ask, pressing my body against hers. “The devil you know, or the two you don’t?”
“I don’t know you,” Cora says, her voice steadier than I expected. “Why should I trust you?”
I flash her my most disarming smile, the one that’s gotten me out of trouble with casino security and into the beds of countless women and men. “You’re right. You don’t know me. But you’ve met the others, and I think you can tell I’m not quite as... ruthless.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for deception. I make sure she finds only what I want her to see—a hint of kindness, a flash of desire, but nothing of the cold calculation beneath.
“What’s your name again?” she asks, still pressed against the wall.
