Page 15 of Cursed

My grip tightens on the phone. “Touch what’s mine and I’ll peel your skin off while you watch in a fucking mirror.”

Knox’s delighted laughter fills my ear. “There’s my brother! See? We are the same.”

I hang up, resisting the urge to throw my phone against the wall. Knox is like a mosquito—irritating, bloodthirsty, and worse when he’s drunk. But he’s blood, and in our family, that’s all that matters.

I take one last look at Sadie’s photo before shutting down my computer. Soon I’ll know every part of her—body, mind, and all the broken pieces in between.

Walking out of the penthouse, I take the lift down to the garage.

I secure my helmet under my arm and swing my leg over my white Ducati Panigale. The engine roars to life beneath me, vibrating with power. This bike understands me—precision engineering, every component working in perfect harmony, no unnecessary parts.

Unlike my family gatherings.

The night air rushes past as I weave through the sparse traffic. My mind keeps drifting back to Sadie’s police report, to the secrets I’ve uncovered. Each revelation feels like another string to pull when the time comes.

I descend the ramp into Purgatory’s underground parking, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. My designated spot waits empty between Xavier’s red BMW and Knox’s obnoxious blue Aprilia. Vane’s space remains empty.

The elevator requires a fingerprint scan. The doors slide open to the thundering bass that vibrates through the club’s foundation. Bodies writhe on the dance floor, desperation masked as pleasure. I slip through the crowd, avoiding contact, making my way toward our private section.

Knox spots me first, raising his glass. “The prodigal stalker returns!”

Xavier sits at the center of our curved booth, expression impassive as he nurses what looks like scotch.

“Thought you might bail.” Xavier’s voice cuts through the music.

I slide into the booth. “And miss mandatory family bonding? Never.”

Knox pushes a tumbler of whiskey toward me. “We were just discussing our hunting strategies. X is going straight for the kill, typical boring shit. I’m thinking of playing with my prey first, really drag it out.”

“Your attention span isn’t long enough to drag anything out,” Xavier says flatly.

Knox clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, brother. I can focus when properly motivated.”

“Like that time you focused on watching our target’s warehouse and instead ended up fucking the barista across the street?”

“In my defense, she had spectacular?—”

“What about you, Landon?” Xavier interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Still fixated on the cybersecurity specialist?”

I take a slow sip of whiskey. “She signed the paperwork.”

“That wasn’t the question.” Xavier’s gaze remains steady.

I meet Xavier’s gaze with indifference. This is what I hate most about my eldest brother—his ability to see past my bullshit. Our minds operate on similar frequencies, both of us analyzing and strategizing. The difference is in our execution.

“I’ve selected my participant. Nothing more.” I keep my voice flat, but Xavier’s slight smirk tells me he’s not fooled.

“You’re different with this one,” he says, swirling his scotch. “More... invested.”

Knox snorts. “Landon’s in love! How adorable.”

I shoot Knox a glare that would make most men piss themselves, but he grins wider. The bastard always does. I turn back to Xavier, whose gray eyes haven’t left mine.

That’s the problem with Xavier. Where I might spiral into obsessive patterns—cataloging every detail and creating intricate maps of behavior—Xavier maintains a cold distance.

“Whatever you are thinking, you’re wrong,” I state.

Xavier raises an eyebrow. “Am I? I know you, Landon. You’re like me. The difference is I don’t let my interests consume me.”