Page 68 of Haunted

“Sadie, you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

The voice is right around the corner now, and I can hear footsteps—measured, unhurried.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Sadie mutters under her breath.

“Run,” I hiss at Sadie, pressing myself against the wall beside her. “I’ll stall him.”

“What? Mira, no?—”

“He can’t touch me,” I interrupt. “I’m already taken.”

Sadie’s eyes widen as understanding dawns. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Go!”

The footsteps are so close now that I can hear the deliberate rhythm of his breathing. Whoever this Landon is, he’s taking his time, savoring the Hunt like Xavier did to me.

“Thank you,” Sadie breathes, squeezing my hand briefly before she turns and disappears down the opposite corridor, her bare feet silent on the stone floor.

I wait until I can’t hear her movements anymore, then take a deep breath and step around the corner.

I slam directly into a solid wall of muscle.

Strong hands grab my shoulders to steady me, and I find myself staring up at a white mask. His ice-blue eyes are cold, calculating, and strangely amused.

But I recognize those eyes. I’ve seen them before.

Landon Blackwood. I’ve seen him enough times at Purgatory.

“Well, well.” The voice behind the mask is smooth and cultured. “If it isn’t Xavier’s journalist.”

I force myself to stand straighter, fighting every instinct that tells me to run. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Landon’s head tilts, and even with the mask, I can sense his amusement. “You happened to be wandering around this particular section of the maze, wearing Xavier’s shirt like some kind of territorial marking.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “I got lost.”

“Lost.” He repeats the word as if he’s tasting it, finding it amusing. “And I suppose you didn’t see anyone else while you were wandering around lost?”

“No.” The lie comes easy, though I can tell from his posture that he doesn’t believe me for a second.

Landon takes a step closer. He’s not as physically imposing as Xavier. Still, something is unsettling about his stillness, the way he seems to be analyzing every micro-expression on my face.

“Mira,” he says, my name like he’s disappointed in me. “Did you really think you could delay me with this amateur performance?”

My mouth goes dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The scared little lost girl act might work on someone else, but I’ve watched your performance tonight.” His voice drops lower. “I know exactly how smart you are. How calculated. You’re standing here having this conversation for a reason.”

He tries to push past me, but I shift, blocking his path.

“She went that way, didn’t she?” Landon gestures down the corridor that Sadie disappeared into. “About thirty seconds ago, moving quietly but not quietly enough.”

My stomach clenches, but I keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Sadie Reynolds. Five-foot-six, dark hair, probably still wearing what’s left of that purple dress.” His tone is conversational as if we’re discussing the weather. “She’s been running from me for quite some time now.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”

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