Page 43 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

Before I can ask what he means, the massive mahogany doors swing open. My heart stops as approximately twenty well-dressed men and women file into the dining hall, taking their seats at the table.

These aren’t more hunters—they’re wearing expensive suits and elegant gowns, jewelry glinting in the chandelier light. They settle with the casual confidence of people accustomed to wealth and power, their eyes drinking in the obscene tableau before them like it’s dinner theater.

My blood turns to ice as I recognize one of the faces.

Mayor Pike.

Cora’s father strides through the doorway in an immaculate navy suit, his silver hair perfectly styled, his polished smile firmly in place.

The pieces click together with horrifying clarity as Mayor Pike’s eyes land on his daughter.

Cora sits impaled on Dominic’s cock, legs splayed wide, her conservative upbringing decimated as Liam’s hand cups her breast. At the same time, Ryder’s fingers trace patterns on the exposed flesh of her inner thigh.

The three men who captured her aren’t random hunters—they’re making a declaration of war.

This isn’t about desire. It’s about revenge. A means to an end, his end.

Mayor Pike’s impeccably cultivated mask cracks as rage transforms his features. His face flushes deep red, his hands clenching at his sides as he takes in the sight of his precious daughter displayed like a trophy between three men who clearly despise him.

But the moment his eyes land on the scene—on his daughter impaled on one man’s cock while two other men’s hands roam my skin covetously—his face transforms—veins bulge at his temples as rage permeates his features.

“CORA!” he roars, lunging forward with violent intent. “Get your filthy hands off my daughter! LET HER GO!”

Mayor Pike’s bellow reverberates through the dining hall, and I watch in horror as Cora’s humiliation plays out for all to see.

All the confidence she displayed earlier, all her rebellious determination to defy her father’s expectations—it evaporates in an instant.

She looks utterly mortified, like she wants the marble floor to open and swallow her whole.

“Daddy, I—” Cora’s voice breaks as she tries to lift herself off Dominic’s lap, shifting as she moves to close her legs and stand. “Please, I can explain?—”

But Dominic’s grip on her waist tightens, keeping her firmly impaled on his length as Ryder and Liam grasp her thighs, splaying farther open, stripping away any last ounce of dignity she had left.

His dark eyes burn with cruel amusement as he holds the mayor’s daughter exactly where she is, making no move to release her despite her obvious distress.

“Let me go,” Cora whispers, squirming against the trio’s iron hold. “Please, just let me?—”

Dominic’s hands only grip her harder, and I can see tears of humiliation pooling in my best friend’s eyes. The sight makes my chest ache with guilt and rage.

Xavier’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, cold and commanding. “Mayor Pike.” The words carry absolute authority. “Sit down and shut up before I have you removed from my establishment permanently.”

Mayor Pike’s fury reaches an unfathomable height, spittle flying from his lips. “That is my DAUGHTER! You can’t?—”

“Your daughter,” Xavier interrupts smoothly, his hand tightening possessively on my thigh, “chose to sign the contract. She chose to participate in the Hunt. The rules were made very clear to every participant.”

I feel Xavier shift beneath me, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “She knew exactly what she was agreeing to when she put her signature on those documents.”

Mayor Pike’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “You sick bastards! She’s a child!”

“She’s twenty-three,” Xavier states flatly. “And a consenting adult who made her own choice.”

The casual cruelty in his tone breaks my heart for Cora, who is now on the verge of sobbing. I glance around the room at the other elegantly dressed observers, all of whom are watching this family drama unfold with varying degrees of amusement and discomfort.

“Was he—” I start to whisper, my voice barely audible. “Was Mayor Pike one of the ones watching the hunt? ”

Xavier’s lips brush against my ear as he answers.

“No. He’s a benefactor of Purgatory, nothing more.

His monetary contributions buy him access to certain events, but he wasn’t part of the Hunt itself.

It seems someone has forgotten they are to be silent.

Perhaps this once can be forgiven as the drama was somewhat unexpected. ”

Relief floods through me like cold water.

The thought of Mayor Pike—Cora’s father, a man I’ve known since childhood—watching us during the Hunt makes my stomach turn.

It’s bad enough that he’s seeing us now, in this obscene dinner theater, but if he’d witnessed everything that happened in the maze. ..

I shudder against Xavier’s chest, imagining Mayor Pike had been watching me as Xavier fucked me in the pool, or as he bent me over and took me in front of those three hunters.

The humiliation would have been unbearable—not just for me, but for Cora.

At least there’s some mercy in knowing her father wasn’t voyeuristically consuming every intimate moment of her degradation.

Xavier’s hand slides higher on my thigh, his fingers finding sensitive skin as he continues speaking with that same cold authority. “Your daughter made an informed decision, Mayor Pike. The same way you made an informed decision to accept our charitable contributions to your campaign fund.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air—Xavier’s money helped put Mayor Pike in office, which means the mayor owes him. Big time.

Mayor Pike’s face cycles through several shades of purple as the reality crashes over him. His daughter is literally impaled on the cock of a man whom he screwed over to build his career. The irony is so inherent it’s almost poetic.

“You can’t—this is blackmail,” Mayor Pike sputters, but the fight is already draining out of him. Political survival instincts are kicking in, warring with the fury of a father enraged.

“This is business,” Xavier corrects smoothly. “And your daughter is experiencing the consequences of her own choices. Nothing more, nothing less.”

I watch as Mayor Pike’s shoulders slump slightly, the weight of his impossible position settling over him. Save his daughter and destroy his political career, or maintain his power while watching her get fucked by men he wronged to get where he is.

The other observers shift in their seats. Some whisper behind manicured hands, others simply watch with fascination.

Cora’s quiet sob pierces my thoughts, drawing my attention back to her tear-streaked face.

She’s stopped struggling against Dominic’s hold, limp with defeat and humiliation.

Her eyes are fixed on the table, and all her fight is drained, her mind retreating into whatever safety it can find away from this nightmare.

The tension in the room has become so thick that it’s suffocating.

The well-dressed observers take their seats in the remaining chairs around the massive dining table.

What I initially thought was meant to be an intimate dinner between the hunters and their prey has transformed into a public spectacle with front-row seats .

Mayor Pike takes the chair directly across from Dominic, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. The positioning feels deliberately cruel, forcing him to stare directly at Cora as she sits impaled on a man’s lap. At the same time, Liam and Ryder’s hands continue their unrelenting exploration.

Cora’s face has gone completely pale except for twin spots of humiliation burning high on her cheeks.

She keeps trying to make herself smaller, her shoulders hunching forward as if she could somehow disappear entirely.

Every few seconds, her gaze darts to her father’s face before skittering away in mortification, until she resettles her eyes on a fixed point and retreats inward.

A woman in diamonds leans toward her companion, whispering behind her hand while her eyes remain fixed on our table. A silver-haired man in an expensive suit adjusts his glasses for a better view, his expression coldly clinical.

I recognize a few more faces now that they’re seated closer—city council members, prominent business people, the kind of wealthy elite who move in the same circles as my editor’s contacts. People with real power and influence in Ravenwood all gathered to witness our utter defilement.

Xavier shifts beneath me, his hand sliding higher on my thigh as servers begin entering through side doors carrying silver trays.

For those few moments, the guests’ attention turns to them.

The normalcy of dinner service feels surreal, given that half the people at this table are literally impaled on the other half .

"Relax," Xavier murmurs against my ear, his voice a dark velvet promise only I can hear.

"The real entertainment is beginning. For the remainder of this dinner, I want you to grind that perfect cunt on my cock.

No speaking—the only sounds I want from those beautiful lips are those desperate little moans you make when you're close to breaking. "

I swallow hard, my body responding instantly to his commands despite the audience surrounding us.

"Take me deeper," he continues, his fingers digging into my hips. "I want to feel myself against your cervix with every movement. And don't hold back—I know exactly how much you can take, how perfectly you were made to accommodate me."

I nod silently, heat flooding my cheeks as I adjust my position on his lap.

"Any questions before we begin?" His tone makes it clear he expects immediate compliance.

"What if it becomes too intense?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His laugh is low and dangerous. "Nothing I give you is ever too much, Mira. Satisfy me, and I'll flood this exquisite pussy repeatedly tonight. You'll be desperate, aching for release, but remember—your pleasure exists at my discretion. You come only when I allow it."

His fingers trace possessive patterns on my thigh. "If you need a moment to collect yourself, I'll signal with two taps here. But understand this, little journalist—every reaction, every tremor, every drop of arousal belongs to me now. "

His mouth finds the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder, pressing soft kisses that make me clench around him involuntarily.

Without warning, his teeth sink into my flesh, the sharp pain drawing tears to my eyes.

I fight the urge to cry out, instead letting the sensation wash through me in overwhelming waves.

A whimper escapes despite my efforts, drawing curious glances from around the table as I rock against him.

"Perfect," he breathes against the mark he's made. "You're mine now—body, mind, and soul. Some demands will hurt, others will please. Tell me you understand what's expected of you. Repeat your instructions so I know you comprehend your place."

I obey, reciting his edict for all in attendance. And so the torture begins.

If this is the beginning, what the hell comes next?

Butterflies tear at my insides, realizing the lengths he will go to assert his control over me.

He shifts beneath me, forcing the last inch or two of him inside me.

My breath hitches, the throbbing ache of need already bleeding through every cell.

I bite my lip, brows furrowed, and whimper like a bitch in heat.

A server approaches our end of the table, obliviously calm, as if serving dinner to people actively engaged in sex is just any other day here. He sets down crystal glasses filled with what appears to be champagne, his movements efficient and utterly unperturbed by the obscene tableau before him.

The normalcy of it all makes it feel even more twisted.