Page 20 of Cursed
As he walks past Lia, she doesn’t step aside—making him move around her instead. A small power play that doesn’t go unnoticed.
When the door closes, Lia turns to me with a conspiratorial smile. “So, which Blackwood brother has his eye on you? Based on that little scene I interrupted, I’m guessing it’s the psychotic one?”
“Psychotic one?” I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
She says it lightly, as if she’s sharing a simple quirk, not something that chills me to the bone. The way she watches me—half amused, half pitying—only deepens my unease.
“I don’t... I mean, I didn’t realize they had specific reputations.” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
Lia raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You signed up for the Hollow’s Hunt without researching the Blackwood brothers? Seriously?”
Heat rushes to my face. Of course, I should have done more research. But with this... I just jumped in.
“I know they’re dangerous,” I manage to say. “Obviously. But I don’t exactly move in circles where people gossip about billionaire families.”
My world is computers and code. Safe, predictable, logical. I spend my weekends debugging systems and watching medical dramas with a bowl of popcorn, not collecting intel on notorious men who run underground sex clubs. I live in my bubble of algorithms and security protocols—a bubble that Landon pierced with terrifying ease.
Lia looks genuinely surprised. “Wow. Talk about going in blind.” She moves to the vanity, studying her reflection as she speaks. “Well, if the quiet one with the intense stare is whoI think it is, that’s Landon. And yes, ‘psychotic’ is probably accurate. Word is he’s the cold, calculating one. The type who can hack your life apart without blinking.”
My blood runs cold. The man who forced me to touch myself at work while my colleagues sat nearby. The man who’s been watching me through my Google Home system. The man whose tongue was just on my skin.
And he’s the psychopath of the family?
What have I gotten myself into?
9
LANDON
The monitors glow in the darkness of the control room, each one displaying a different area of the labyrinth. But my eyes stay fixed on just one screen—Sadie, standing alone, working out which way to go next, nervously fidgeting with her mask. One minute and fifty-eight seconds until we’re released.
“She’s pretty,” a voice says from behind me. “Smart choice.”
I don’t turn around. I know it’s Cyrus Dexter, one of the twin brothers who’ve participated in the Hunt for the past three years. They never come alone—always hunt as a pair, always share their prey.
“She’s mine,” I say. “Find someone else.”
Cyrus laughs, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “That’s not how the Hunt works, Blackwood. Fair game until someone claims her.”
His brother Ace appears at his side, studying the screen with calculating eyes. Unlike his more volatile twin, Ace rarely speaks. When he does, it’s usually after he’s already figured out ten moves ahead.
“The hacker,” Ace says quietly. “Interesting profile. Systematic mind. Likely she’ll respond well to dominance.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. They’ve researched her. Just like I have. The countdown on the main screen reads one minute, thirty seconds.
“Stay away from her,” I say, turning to face them now. The warning in my voice is clear.
The twins exchange a look I can’t decipher. Their matching masks—black with yellow accents—hide most of their expressions, but I see the challenge in their eyes.
“Rules state the first hunter to catch a prey gets exclusive rights,” Ace reminds me.
“I know the fucking rules,” I hiss.
I’ve never thought about breaking them before. With Monica, with any of the others—it was just a game. But Sadie is different. Just imagining either Dexter twin touching her makes darkness surge—violent, uncontrollable—inside me.
The countdown hits one minute. The other hunters are taking their positions, excitement building in the room. I need to focus, plan my route through the labyrinth based on where I think Sadie will go.
But all I can think about is what I’ll do if one of them reaches her first. The rules of the Hunt would be meaningless then. I’ve killed men for less important reasons than Sadie Reynolds.
