“I can’t—” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I can’t just sit still right now. I need... I need to not think.”
I search her face, trying to understand what she’s asking for.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She nods, eyes closing briefly. “Please. Just... gentle. Make me forget where we are.”
I adjust her on my lap, cradling her closer. Our bodies move together in the most minimal way possible—nothing that would draw attention, nothing performative. Just the slightest rocking motion, my arms wrapped protectively around her.
“Focus on me,” I murmur against her ear. “Just us. Nothing else exists.”
She turns her face into my neck, her breath coming faster. I stroke her hair, her back, keeping my touch soothing. This isn’t about dominance or revenge anymore. It’s about comfort—the only kind I can offer after what we’ve done to her.
“You’re okay,” I whisper against her temple. “I’ve got you.”
We stay like this for several long moments. Her breathing gradually steadies, and I feel her gather herself, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“Why?” she asks, her voice barely audible. “Why did you do this to me?”
There’s no anger in her tone—just raw, wounded confusion that cuts deeper than rage ever could.
“We should have warned you,” I admit, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “It was unfair. Cruel. And I’m so fucking sorry, Cora.”
She shakes her head. “You knew my father would be here.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “The feast is mandatory for all hunters and prey. And a certain elite of Ravenwood, your father included, are always invited to witness the feast. It’s part of the Hunt’s tradition—something built into the rules.”
“You could have told me,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “You knew what it would do to me.”
“We did,” I confess. “At first, that was the whole point. Hurting him through you.”
Her breath catches, and I feel her start to pull away.
“But Cora,” I continue, my voice urgent but quiet, “what happened between us in that room... it became real. For me, at least.” I swallow hard. “I didn’t expect to care about you. None of us did.”
She studies my face, searching for lies.
“Your father was always going to be here,” I say. “That was part of the plan from the beginning. We just... we got in too deep. By the time things changed between us, the feast was unavoidable.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” she mutters.
“You’re right,” I admit, holding her gaze. “We were wrong. I was wrong.”
Her fingers trace the edge of my mask, hesitating at the boundary between disguise and truth. “Can I?” she whispers.
I nod, though removing our masks during the feast breaks every rule of the Hunt. At this point, I don’t give a fuck about rules. I only care about her.
Her fingers slip beneath the edge of my skull mask, lifting it carefully. I help her, pulling it off and setting it aside.
“There you are,” she breathes, cupping my cheek.
I turn my face into her palm, kissing it softly. “I’m here.”
The buzz of conversation continues around us, but it feels distant, unimportant. In this moment, there’s only Cora. Her eyes, searching mine. Her body, warm against me.
She shifts on my lap, a subtle movement that deepens our connection. I gasp softly as she takes me deeper inside her.
“Stay with me,” she whispers, her forehead touching mine. “Just... be here with me.”
