Page 47 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

MIRA

T he taxi’s vinyl seats stick to my bare legs beneath the short black dress Xavier gave me.

Twenty-four hours.

That’s what we get to collect our things, make arrangements, and say goodbye to our old lives before we disappear into whatever our hunters have planned.

Cora sits beside me, staring out the rain-streaked window at the blur of streetlights. Her red hair falls like a curtain between us, but I can see her hands trembling in her lap. The silence stretches between us, and it feels like a barrier we may never overcome.

I can’t stop replaying the moment her father saw her on Dominic’s lap with two other men fondling her. The way Mayor Pike’s face went from white to red with rage. The sound he made—somewhere between a roar and a broken sob—when he realized his daughter had been hunted by not one, but three men.

And Cora sat there, Dominic buried inside her .

“Cora,” I whisper, unsure that she will even hear me over the taxi’s engine.

She doesn’t turn toward me. “Don’t.”

“We need to talk about what?—”

“I said don’t.” Her voice cracks on the words. “Please, Mira. I can’t... not yet.”

The taxi hits a pothole, jostling us together. Cora’s shoulder brushes mine, and I feel her flinch away as if my touch burns. The guilt in my stomach twists painfully.

This is my fault. I brought her into this. My investigation, my need for the truth, my reckless decision to sign that NDA—it all led to this moment. To Cora, broken and silent beside me, to her father’s horrified screams echoing through that dining hall.

“Where to, ladies?” the driver asks, glancing at us in the rearview mirror.

Cora gives him her address in a hollow voice. I add mine after a moment’s hesitation, though I wonder what the point is. In twenty-four hours, Xavier will collect me. In twenty-four hours, this version of my life will come to an abrupt end.

The city passes by outside—normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that six women emerged from a nightmare that will extend into the next year of their existence.

“My father,” Cora says, her voice so quiet I almost miss it.

I turn toward her, but she’s still staring out the window.

“Did you see his face?” She barks out a piteous laugh. “ Thirty years of his tough-on-crime platform while secretly profiting from the very enterprises he condemned, and now his own daughter...” She trails off, her reflection ghostlike in the glass.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

The words slip out before I can stop them. Cora finally turns from the window, and I see the tears she’s been holding back glistening in her eyes.

She nods once, quick and sharp, like she doesn’t trust her voice.

When the taxi pulls up outside Cora’s brownstone, we both climb out into the cool night air. I hand the driver a twenty and wave off his attempt at change. My hands shake as I stuff the remaining bills back into my purse.

Cora’s keys rattle against the lock. She tries three times before managing to get the door open, her fingers trembling so badly she can barely grip the metal. I want to help, but her rigid posture warns me to keep my distance.

The moment we step inside her apartment, the dam breaks.

Cora collapses against the closed door, sliding down until her ass hits the hardwood floor. The sobs that wrench free of her are so devastating, it’s like they’re ripping pieces of her soul away.

I drop to my knees beside her, pulling her against my chest despite her earlier flinching. This time, she doesn’t pull away. She grips my dress like I’m the only thing keeping her anchored to earth .

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair over and over. “Cora, I’m so sorry.”

She cries harder at my words, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of my dress. I stroke her beautiful chestnut locks, but that only brings me back to the scene where Dominic ran his fingers through them while he moved inside her. The memory makes my stomach lurch.

“My father,” she gasps between sobs. “Did you see... did you see what I did to him?”

“You didn’t do anything to him,” I say fiercely. “This isn’t your fault.”

But even as I say it, the guilt eats at me. Because it is someone’s fault. It’s mine.

“I wanted it,” Cora whispers, the words choked out as the tears continue to spill. “In that moment, with all three of them... God help me, Mira, I wanted it. What does that say about me?”

I hold her tighter, my own tears starting to fall. “It makes you human.”

Cora pulls back from my embrace, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her brow furrows as she looks at me.

“There’s something wrong with me, Mira.” Her voice comes out flat, emotionless. “What woman would like three men forcing themselves on her?”

I open my mouth to protest, but she continues before I can speak.

“And all for revenge, too.” She laughs bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls of her apartment. “Dominic told me exactly why they targeted me. Because of my father. Because they wanted to hurt him, and I was conveniently the deepest cut they could make.”

Her hands clench into fists in her lap.

“And you know what the sick part is? I still came apart. Even knowing they were using me as revenge against my dad, I still screamed their names when they made me come. All three of them, at the same time, in front of everyone. They didn’t even want me , just revenge.

I am just a means to the end they want for him. I’m— nothing.”

The raw anguish in her voice makes my chest tight. I reach for her hand, but she pulls away.

“What kind of person does that make me? What kind of daughter?” Her green eyes search mine desperately. “I should have fought. I should have been disgusted. I begged them for more. I begged to be nothing .”

“Cora—”

“No, don’t try to make me feel better about this.” She scrambles to her feet, pacing across the small living room. “There’s no excuse for my reactions. No justification for how much I wanted it, even after they told me the truth.”

She stops in front of the window, her reflection ghostlike in the glass.

“My father built his entire career on stopping men like them. And there I was, spread out on display, letting them use me however they wanted while he was forced to watch. While half of Ravenwood’s elite watched, people who watched me grow up.”

Her voice cracks on the last words. “I can never face him again. How can I look him in the eye, knowing what I did? Knowing what I am?”

She shakes her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “And now I’m bound to the three of them for a year. Surely they got their revenge, so why keep me for a year when they don’t even want me , when all they want is to destroy him?”

I pull her back into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. “Everything will be okay,” I whisper, though the words feel hollow even as I say them. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Cora trembles against me, but she doesn’t pull away this time. I stroke her hair, those gorgeous long tresses that are tangled and wild from her breakdown.

“I need to ask you a question,” I say gently, waiting until she looks up at me with those red-rimmed green eyes. “If they gave you the choice... if they asked if you wanted them to have you for the year... what would you say?”

Cora’s face crumples, and for a moment, I think she’s going to start sobbing again. Instead, she covers her face with her hands, her voice muffled but clear.

“Yes,” she whispers. “God help me, yes. But it’s not me they want.”

The admission hangs in the air, a confession in a church—sacred and terrible at once.

“I don’t understand it,” she continues, her hands still covering her face. “They told me exactly why they were doing this. Revenge against my father. Using me as a weapon to destroy him politically. And still... I wanted to be theirs for a full year...”

She drops her hands, meeting her beautiful face marred in shame and brutal honesty.

“The idea of it ending, of not having the three of them worship me the way they did...” Her voice breaks. “It felt like the end of the world. Like I’d rather die than go back to my empty apartment and my political fundraisers, to have to pretend to be the perfect mayor’s daughter.”

She laughs, but it’s a broken sound.

“How fucked up is that, Mira? They’re using me for revenge, and I want them to keep doing it. I want Dominic’s hands on me, and Liam’s mouth, and Ryder’s...” She shudders. “I want all of it. For an entire year. Even knowing it’s not me they want.”

The honesty in her voice makes my chest ache. I see myself reflected in her confession—the way I melted for Xavier despite knowing exactly what kind of monster he is.

“Maybe that doesn’t make you fucked up,” I say quietly. “Maybe it makes you human.”

Cora’s words echo in my mind, and I feel something shift inside me—a recognition that makes my stomach clench with both fear and longing.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I whisper, the admission tearing out of me before I can stop it.

Cora’s eyes widen, searching my face. “Mira?”

“Xavier.” His name falls from my lips like a prayer and a curse intertwined. “Even knowing what he is, what he’s done... I can’t stop thinking about him. About his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.”

My voice drops to barely a whisper. “The way he said my name when he was inside me.”

Cora reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “But he manipulated you. He trapped you in that maze, forced you?—”

“Did he?” The question tastes bitter on my tongue. “Because when I think back to every moment... yes, he cornered me. Yes, he used the maze, the chains, and every psychological trick in his arsenal. But when it mattered, when he was touching me...”

I close my eyes, remembering the heat in Xavier’s gaze and the reverent way his fingers traced my skin.

“He never truly injured me. I wanted him. God help me, Cora, I wanted every second of it. Even now, knowing I should run as far and fast as I can, all I can think about is seeing him again tomorrow. Being with him for an entire year.”

Our confessions hang between us like a shared secret, dark and shameful, and a truth that no amount of scrubbing could ever make clean again.

“What if that’s the point?” I continue, my rational mind trying to make sense of the chaos in my heart. “What if the Hunt isn’t really about physical domination at all?”

Cora tilts her head, waiting for me to continue.

“Think about it. They could have taken us. The Blackwoods have enough power to make six women disappear without a trace. They didn’t, though, did they? They created this elaborate ritual. The maze, the pursuit, the psychological games...”

My pulse quickens as the pieces begin to fall into place.

“They wanted us to surrender. Not just our bodies but our minds. Our sense of self. They wanted us to want them, to crave what they were doing to us even while we knew we should fight it.”

I stand up, pacing to the window like Cora had moments before.

“The contracts aren’t simply legal protection. They’re psychological manipulation. By making us sign away our right to refuse, they force us to confront our own desires without the safety net of being able to say no.”

My reflection stares back at me from the dark glass, and I barely recognize the woman looking back. Wild-haired, kiss-swollen lips, wearing clothes that barely cover my breasts.

“And it worked,” I whisper. “Because here we are, both of us admitting that we want to go back. That we want more. That the idea of never seeing them again feels worse than being with them for a year.”

I turn back to Cora, seeing my own emotions reflected in her green eyes.

“Maybe that’s what makes them so dangerous. They get inside your head and twist everything until you’re not sure what you actually want anymore or even who you are, for that matter.”

We fall silent at my words, the weight of our introspection settling over us like a heavy blanket. Cora sinks back down onto the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.

The silence stretches between us, but it’s different now. It’s not the emotionally charged silence of before, but a contemplative quiet. Shared understanding, maybe—or shared shame. I’m not sure there’s a difference anymore.

I think about Xavier’s hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name like a prayer. Tomorrow, I’ll be his. For an entire year, I’ll belong to him in ways I don’t even fully understand yet. The thought should terrify me. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in my belly.

While still not warm and cozy, Xavier’s interactions with me were not the same thing as Cora’s with her hunters, and that is what breaks my heart the most for her.

They seem to have made it clear to her that she wasn’t desired as much as she was simply a convenient tool to be wielded against her father.

Cora shifts on the couch, and I catch her touching her lips in the reflection. Remembering, like I am. Her face suddenly turns pink, and she drops her hand quickly as if the gesture gave away too much.

“Twenty-four hours,” she whispers, breaking the silence.

“Twenty-four hours,” I echo.

Neither of us explains what happens after those hours end. We don’t need to. The contracts are clear—we become theirs. Completely. No escape clause, no changing our minds, no pretending this was all some terrible mistake.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, watching a lone car move down the empty street below. Normal people, living normal lives, who will go to their normal jobs tomorrow morning. They have no idea what world exists parallel to theirs, what darkness lurks behind Ravenwood’s polished facade.

“My mother called three times while we were...” Cora’s voice trails off. She doesn’t finish the sentence.

“My editor, too,” I murmur. “Demanding updates on my story.”

The irony isn’t lost on either of us. I came to expose the Blackwoods’ corruption, to bring their crimes into the light. Instead, I’ve become part of their world in the most intimate way possible.

“Will you publish it?” Cora asks quietly. “When it’s over?”

I turn from the window to look at her. “Would you want me to?”

She considers this for a long moment, her fingers tracing patterns on the couch cushion. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks someone should know the truth about what happens at Purgatory. But part of me...”

She shakes her head, unable or unwilling to finish.

“Doesn’t want anyone to know what we’ve become,” I complete for her.

“Yeah.”

The weight of the decision we must consider is heavy with implications neither of us wants to examine too closely.