Page 18 of Cursed
“Hunt participants’ entrance is through that door.” He points to a separate entrance hidden in shadow. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
I should turn around. Walk away. Delete Landon’s number. Change my locks, my passwords, my entire digital footprint. But here I am, stepping toward that door like a moth to a flame that promises to burn me alive.
Since that day at work—since he made me touch myself at my desk while my coworkers sat feet away—I’ve felt him everywhere. In the static of my phone calls. The blinking cursor on my screen. The shadow that lurks just outside my peripheral vision. Yet not a word from him. No texts. No emails. No more hacked monitors with explicit threats.
The silence somehow feels worse than the violation.
I pull open the heavy door and step into a dimly lit hallway. My heels click against the polished concrete floor, each step echoing like a countdown.
A woman in a sleek black dress appears at the end of the corridor. “Ms. Reynolds. You’re the first to arrive.”
Of course I am. Punctuality: my most useless superpower.
“The other participants should be here shortly. In the meantime, would you like to familiarize yourself with the space?”
I clutch the mask tighter, its edges digging into my palms. “Is anyone else here? The... hunters?”
Her smile reveals nothing. “They have separate preparations. You won’t see them until the Hunt begins.”
But one of them sees me. I know he does. Even now, in this hallway, in this moment, Landon is watching.
I take a deep breath. “Show me around.”
The woman leads me down the hallway, her heels clicking in perfect rhythm. “This is what we call the outer sanctum,” she explains, gesturing to the sleek, minimalist space. “It’s where participants can relax before and after events.”
The walls are a deep charcoal, adorned with abstract art pieces that hint at sensuality without being explicit. Soft ambient lighting casts everything in a warm glow. It’s more of an upscale art gallery than a sex club—at least in this section.
“Through there,” she points to imposing double doors at the far end of the corridor, “is where the Hunt itself unfolds. The maze covers three floors and two thousand square meters, filled with various themed rooms and obstacles.” Her smile remains professional. “You won’t have access until the Hunt officially begins. Security is quite strict about that.”
I stare at those doors, trying to imagine what waits beyond them. What he has planned for me.
“This way, please.” She guides me to a smaller door, which opens to reveal what can only be described as the most luxurious dressing room I’ve ever seen.
Plush velvet chairs surround a central vanity area that’s cloaked in soft lighting, giving the atmosphere a professionally curated feel. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, making the space feel infinite. Fresh flowers perfume the air, and a small table holds an array of expensive-looking snacks and beverages.
“Would you care for a drink? We have champagne, wine, or something stronger if you prefer. Many participants find a touch of liquid courage helpful.” She moves to a small bar in the corner. “Nothing excessive, of course. The Hunt requires... alertness.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity. Here I am in what looks like a celebrity’s dressing room, being offered champagne by a woman who could be working at a five-star hotel, all while preparing to be hunted like sexual chattel through a maze by men wearing masks.
“Water, please,” I manage, setting my mask down on the vanity. “Just water for now.”
She nods, pouring crystal-clear water into a cut-glass tumbler. “The other women should arrive shortly. You’ll have time to change and prepare together before the Hunt begins.”
I settle into one of the velvet chairs, my fingers tracing nervous patterns on the armrests. The room feels too large, too quiet, too ready for whatever is about to happen. I take a sip of water, but it does nothing to soothe the desert that’s settled in my throat.
The door swings open without warning.
Landon strides in—tall, imposing, utterly out of place in a space designated for women.
I bolt to my feet. “What are you doing here? This area is only for... for prey.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Rules don’t apply to me, Sadie. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.” He moves toward me with deliberate steps, backing me against the wall until I feel the cool surface press against my shoulder blades. His body cages mine without touching me. “Did you believe I wouldn’t recognize your worth?” Landon drawls, a smirk ghosting his lips as his icy blue gaze lingers on my every move. “Tonight, I’m not just hunting—I’m claiming what’s mine.”
“Leave me alone,” I demand.
“Did you enjoy our little chat at work?” He shakes his head. “I certainly did. Watching you try to keep your composure while your coworkers had no idea what was happening under your desk.”
My cheeks burn with humiliation. “You could have gotten me fired.”
