Page 77 of Cursed

The door closes with a quiet click rather than a slam. Small victories in this prison feel hollow, but I’ll take them wherever I can.

The moment the door closes, I feel a weight lift from my chest. The penthouse feels less suffocating. I check the time—just after seven. If he’s racing tonight, he won’t be back until the early morning hours.

I grab my phone and stare at Jolene’s messages, guilt washing over me. She’s my best friend, and I’ve been keepingher in the dark about everything. About what he did to me. What he’s still doing.

Before I can overthink it, I dial her number.

“Sadie! Thank God!” Relief floods her voice. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “Listen, are you free tonight? Landon’s out at some street race. I could really use a friend right now.”

“Of course. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I close my eyes, fighting back tears. “Not really. But I can’t explain over the phone. Could you come over? We could get takeout, and I’ll... I’ll tell you everything.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there in an hour with Chinese food. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Jo.”

After sending Landon’s penthouse address, I head to the bathroom. The woman in the mirror looks like a stranger—pale, with dark circles under her eyes. I pull the collar of my shirt down, revealing the angry red “LB” carved below my collarbone.

I open the closet and search through my clothes, pulling out a high-necked sweater that will cover every mark he’s given me. There are other bruises too—on my wrists, my throat, my thighs. I select loose jeans and examine myself critically after putting them on.

Everything is covered. Jolene won’t see what he’s done to me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. For the first time since the Hunt ended, I’ll have an ally in this nightmare. Someone who knows the real me—not the version of myself I’m becoming.

I sit down on the sofa and flip through channels, barely registering what’s on the screen. Some reality show about home renovations blends into a cooking competition, then a crimedrama. The noise provides a comforting backdrop to my racing thoughts. What will I tell Jolene? How much can I reveal?

The doorbell rings, sending my heart into my throat. I cross the spacious living room, my footsteps echoing on the marble floors. Through the peephole, I see Jolene’s familiar face, bags of Chinese food hanging from her hands.

I swing the door open, and she immediately pulls me into a hug, the food bags bumping against my back.

“Oh my God, Sadie!” She steps back, eyes wide as she takes in the penthouse behind me. “What the hell is going on? And why are you suddenly living like a millionaire in the swankiest apartment I’ve ever seen?”

I usher her inside, taking the food bags and placing them on the kitchen island. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated?” Jolene spins around, gawking at the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering city below. “This place must cost more than I’d make in twenty years!”

I haven’t had time to appreciate the luxury surrounding me. The sleek furniture, the expensive art, the breathtaking views—none of it matters when you’re a prisoner.

“It doesn’t feel like home to me,” I admit, unpacking the containers of food.

Jolene stops her exploration, turning to face me. “What happened, Sadie?”

I take a deep breath. “Remember the Hunt that I told you about? Well, Landon caught me. He’s... claimed me for a year. It was in the contract I signed.”

“Claimed you? What does that even mean?”

“It means I belong to him. Legally, according to the contract.” My fingers rise to my collarbone. “I have to live here, with him. I have to do what he says.”

Jolene’s face transforms from confusion to horror. “That sounds fucked-up, Sadie. Contract or not, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head, crossing to the couch and sinking into its plush cushions. “I signed an NDA and a contract, Jo. I didn’t—” My voice catches. “I disregarded the one-year claiming that was in the small print, thinking it was unlikely to happen.”

“So what? You are basically like a prisoner for a year?”

I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. “I signed it. Everything that’s happening is technically within the terms I agreed to.” What I don’t want to admit is that deep down, I have no desire to run or escape. That Landon is right. What we have is exactly what I’ve been missing all this time.