Page 31 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

MIRA

I wake up in an unfamiliar room.

I’m aching in places I’d rather not think about, and for a moment, I can’t remember where I am. The bed beneath me is narrow and basic. Soft black fabric brushes against my thighs as I shift, and the scent of expensive cologne clings to the oversized shirt I’m wearing.

Xavier’s shirt.

The memories flood back in a rush, making me squeeze my eyes shut. The pool. The chains. The way that encounter betrayed every principle I thought I had as he moved inside me. The way I screamed his name, like it was the only word I could remember.

Fuck.

I sit up, taking in the sparse room. A single bed, basic furniture, nothing that screams “torture chamber” or “elaborate psychological manipulation.” Just... normal. Almost disappointingly so after everything I’ve witnessed.

But Xavier is gone.

The chair across from the bed sits empty. No sign he was ever here, except for the lingering scent of his cologne, the shirt I’m drowning in, and a key card that he must have forgotten. I run my hands through my tangled hair, trying to piece together how I got here and why he left me alone.

This has to be another test.

Everything tonight has been carefully orchestrated, from the maze design to the planted audio of Cora’s screams. Xavier doesn’t do anything without purpose, so leaving me unguarded in what appears to be some kind of safe room must be part of his game.

Maybe he’s watching through hidden cameras, waiting to see if I’ll try to escape. Or is this meant to lull me into a false sense of security before the next round begins? The man who chained me in a pool and made me beg to be fucked doesn’t suddenly develop a conscience.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my stability. My knees shake slightly, but I can stand.

I really need to use the bathroom. The events of tonight have left me in various states of distress, and the pressure in my bladder is becoming impossible to ignore.

Looking around the sparse room, I spot a door I hadn’t noticed before. Testing it carefully, I find it opens to reveal a small but clean ensuite bathroom. Thank God.

The space is basic but functional, featuring white tiles, a toilet, a sink, and a shower stall. Nothing fancy, but it’s clean and private. More importantly, there’s a lock on the door.

I step inside and turn the deadbolt, the metallic click providing the first sense of security I’ve felt all night. For a few minutes, I can be alone with my thoughts without wondering if Xavier is watching from some hidden camera.

The relief when I finally use the toilet is almost overwhelming. Such a basic human need, but after hours of being manipulated, even this simple action feels like reclaiming some sense of autonomy, even if only for this fleeting moment.

I catch sight of my reflection in the small mirror above the sink as I wash my hands, and I have to look away immediately.

My hair is a tangled mess, and mascara is smudged beneath my eyes despite being supposedly waterproof.

The collar of Xavier’s shirt hangs loosely, revealing marks on my neck I don’t remember him making.

I look exactly like what I am—a woman who had incredibly intense sex with a dangerous man. The flush in my cheeks, the way my lips are still swollen, the unmistakable radiance of my skin that contradicts everything I should be feeling right now.

I should be horrified. Disgusted. Planning my escape or figuring out how to turn this nightmare into the exposé that will destroy Xavier Blackwood and his brothers.

Instead, I’m standing in what must be his bathroom, wearing his shirt .

I splash cold water on my face, hoping to shock myself back to reality, trying to regain control and remember why I’m here and what’s at stake.

But when I dry my face with the small towel beside the sink, all I can think about is how Xavier looked without his mask.

Returning to the main room, I notice my top and skirt lies in a damp heap by the door where Xavier must have dropped it, and I briefly consider changing back into it. But his shirt covers more, and honestly, I’m not ready to put on that costume of seduction again.

I move to the door cautiously, half-expecting it to be locked. But the handle turns easily under my palm, revealing an empty hallway beyond. No guards. No cameras that I can see.

What kind of game is this?

I step into the hallway and walk toward the door which opens back into the main maze, perhaps that’s why he left the key card.

I scan the card at the panel by the door, and it clicks open.

As I step back into the maze, it feels different now—less chaotic, more purposeful.

The screams and sounds of pursuit have faded to occasional distant echoes, making me wonder how much time has passed.

The corridors branch in multiple directions, but I follow my instincts, choosing paths that feel familiar. I need to find Cora. Whatever Xavier showed me on those screens, whatever I heard in that audio recording—I have to know if she’s okay.

The shirt hangs loosely around my thighs as I move, offering more coverage than that ridiculous dress, though somehow it makes me hyper aware of how exposed I still am. Every shadow could hide a hunter, and every turn could lead to another trap.

However, the maze feels emptier now, as if most of the action has moved elsewhere or concluded entirely.

I’m rounding a corner when I collide with someone moving as quietly as I am.

“Shit!”

“Sorry, I—Sadie?”

The woman I recognize from our brief introduction earlier stumbles back, and I get my first good look at her.

Where she’d been composed and analytical before, now her dark hair hangs in messy strands around her face.

Her outfit—a deep purple number similar to mine—is torn at one shoulder, and there are red marks on her arms that look suspiciously like rope burns.

“Mira.” Her voice carries a mix of relief and exhaustion. “I thought... I wasn’t sure if anyone else was still...”

“Still, what? Still free?” I keep my voice low. “What happened to you?”

Sadie’s laugh is hollow. “Let’s say I learned some things about myself tonight that I’m not entirely comfortable with.”

She won’t meet my eyes when she says it, and I notice the way she keeps rubbing her wrists. Whatever happened to her, it wasn’t gentle.

“Have you seen Cora?” I ask, cutting straight to the point that matters most. “Pike’s daughter? Blonde, about our age? ”

Sadie’s expression shifts, becoming guarded. She glances away, then back at me, clearly wrestling with what she’s seen.

“Sadie, please. She’s my best friend. I need to know if she’s okay.”

“I...” Sadie starts, then stops. Her fingers worry at the torn fabric of her dress. “I saw something, but I don’t know if telling you will help or make things worse for everyone involved.”

“What did you see?”

Sadie’s face crumples, and she looks away completely.

“I saw her,” she whispers. “About an hour ago, maybe less. She was... There were three men.”

My blood turns to ice. “I saw them on the screens… Is she okay?”

“They had her in one of the larger chambers. The kind with the fancy furniture and...” Sadie’s voice breaks slightly. “They were all over her. Taking turns.”

The corridor tilts around me. “Was she fighting them? Was she hurt?”

“That’s just it.” Sadie finally meets my eyes, and the confusion there makes everything worse. “I couldn’t tell. She was making noise, but... some of it sounded like she was enjoying it, and other times she seemed scared or maybe overwhelmed.”

I grab Sadie’s arm, probably harder than I should. “Where? Where did you see this?”

“Two levels down, east wing. But Mira, wait—” She catches my wrist as I start to move. “It gets worse. I heard them talking beforehand.”

“Talking about what?”

Sadie’s face is pale in the dim lighting. “They mentioned her father, Mayor Pike, and mentioned holding him accountable for the damage he caused to their businesses and reputations. They weren’t random hunters, Mira. They specifically targeted her.”

The bottom drops out of my world. Everything clicks into place with horrible clarity—the ease with which she got an invitation, the fact that the daughter of Ravenwood’s anti-crime mayor happened to end up in a hunt full of dangerous men.

“They’re using her for revenge,” I breathe.

“That’s what it sounded like. And the worst part?” Sadie’s voice drops even lower. “I think she’s starting to figure it out, but she’s so deep in whatever headspace they’ve put her in that she can’t seem to process it properly.”

I lean against the wall, feeling sick. This is my fault. I brought Cora here. I practically delivered Mayor Pike’s daughter into the hands of men who want to destroy her father through her.

“This whole thing is so fucked up,” Sadie says quietly. “All of it. The way they hunt us like animals, the way our bodies respond even when our minds are screaming no, the way they make us complicit in our own...” She trails off, unable to finish.

“I have to find her,” I say, pushing off from the wall.

“Mira, no. You can’t save her. Not from this.”

“I know,” I whisper.

Sadie’s right, and that’s the worst part. We’re all powerless here because we walked into this willingly. We signed the contracts, accepted the invitations, and put on the ridiculous outfits Xavier provided. Every choice that led us to this moment was ours.

The NDA I signed didn’t just cover confidentiality—it waived my right to withdraw consent during the Hunt.

Cora signed the same document. She knew the risks.

“We all signed up for this,” I say, more to myself than to Sadie. “Every one of us walked through those doors knowing what could happen.”

Sadie nods slowly. “But knowing and understanding are two different things. I thought I was smart enough to handle whatever they threw at us. I thought I could outthink them, use my tech skills to find advantages.”