Page 88 of Doomed

“I brought sustenance since you haven’t emerged all day,” she says, holding up her offerings. “Figured you’d need it.”

Michelle sets the coffee and bag on my kitchen counter, then turns to face me with her hands on her hips. “So, how are you doing? Really?”

I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, grateful for its support. “I’m doing better than expected, actually.” Despite the physical toll, there’s a strange contentment that has settled in my bones.

“Better than expected?” Michelle raises an eyebrow, sliding a coffee toward me. “You disappear for three days, show up looking like you’ve been mauled by a sexy wildcat, and that’s all I get?” She pulls out the chair across from me. “What happened? I need details—preferably the juicy ones.”

I wrap my hands around the warm cup, biting my lower lip. The memories flash through my mind—Knox’s hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me in those final moments. The things he whispered about forever.

“I can’t tell you,” I say finally. “That NDA I signed was serious. Like, legally-binding-with-terrifying-consequences serious.”

Michelle’s shoulders slump dramatically. “Come on! It’s me. Your newest and only best friend.”

“I know, but...” I gesture vaguely, remembering the weight of the document I’d signed, the specificity of its language. “These people don’t mess around.”

Michelle sighs, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Whatever happened in that creepy rich-people sex maze stays between us.”

I sigh deeply, running a hand through my tangled hair. “Okay, the basics then. We—the women—were allowed a thirty-minute head start to run into this elaborate maze in Purgatory, and the place is fucking huge. There were all these weird traps and... rooms designed for, well, specific activities.”

Michelle leans forward, eyes widening. “Like sex dungeons?”

“Pretty much,” I admit, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “Some were more elaborate than others. One had ropes hanging from the ceiling, another had chains, and there was an altar-like bed. There was even a gallery room with art supplies.”

“And Knox? He found you?”

I nod, unable to hide the small smile forming on my lips. “He caught me pretty quickly. I think he knew exactly where I was heading.” I take a sip of coffee, grateful for its warmth. “Let’s say he was... very dominant. Very possessive. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Michelle’s jaw drops slightly. “And how many times did you...?”

“I lost count,” I confess, my voice dropping. “I’ve never had so much sex in my life. Three days of it, Michelle. Three. Days.”

“Holy shit.” Michelle sits back in her chair, clearly processing this information. “That sounds intense. Like, seriously intense.”

“It was.” I stare down at my coffee, remembering the weight of Knox’s body on mine, the way he made me feel both completely vulnerable and utterly safe. “I don’t even know how to process it all.”

“And you’re... okay?” Michelle asks, her expression shifting to concern.

“Surprisingly, yes.” I meet her eyes. “More than okay, actually.”

Michelle studies my face for a moment. “Wow. That’s... I mean, I knew the Hunt was supposed to be some kind of sex thing, but this sounds next level.”

I carefully omit certain details—particularly the part where Knox shared me with three other men. Despite how surprisingly good it felt in the moment, with Knox orchestrating and controlling everything, I’m not ready to unpack that with Michelle yet.

“That’s not all,” I say, picking at my coffee cup sleeve. “Knox claimed me.”

Michelle frowns, setting her cup down. “Claimed you? What does that mean?”

I take a deep breath. “At the end of the Hunt, there’s this ceremony. Hunters can claim their prey for a specific period, up to one year. Knox claimed me for the maximum.”

“Wait.” Michelle’s eyes widen. “Like, what exactly does that entail?”

“I have to live with him. For the next twelve months.”

Michelle’s jaw drops. “Live with him? As in, move in? With Knox Blackwood? You can’t abandon me, we’re roomies!” She shakes her head in disbelief. “And this is the same guy you slapped at the art gallery? The one you’ve been rejecting for months?”

I nod, unable to suppress a small smile despite my conflicted feelings.

“And you agreed to this?” Michelle leans forward, searching my face. “Was this in the contract? Because that seems like an aspect they should’ve disclosed up front.”