Page 9 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

MIRA

I slide into the booth across from Cora, my “vacation” time before the Hunt, already feeling like a countdown clock rather than a break. The familiar bustle of our favorite café wraps around me like a security blanket.

“You look like hell,” Cora says, pushing a latte toward me. She’s already ordered my usual—caramel with an extra shot. Twenty-two years of friendship mean never having to specify your coffee order.

“Thanks for the ego boost.” I take a grateful sip. “Remember when our biggest worry was whether Professor Wilkins would grade on a curve?”

Cora laughs. “Those were simpler times. Before you decided to investigate the Blackwoods was a good career move.”

I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Speaking of which, I got invited to something. The Hollow’s Hunt.”

Her fork clatters against her plate. “The what now? ”

“It’s this exclusive event the Blackwoods host annually. Very hush-hush. I signed an NDA that would destroy my life if I broke it, but Cora—this is it. My way in.”

Cora stares at me, her expression shifting from confusion to horror. “Wait, you’re not seriously considering participating in some cryptic ‘hunt’ with people we’ve been investigating for suspected criminal activity?”

“It’s the only way to get the inside scoop. I’ve been working at Purgatory for a month now, and I’m still barely scratching the surface.”

“You’re insane.” She reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. “Remember when I had to talk you down from that tree in sixth grade because you climbed too high trying to get a photo of that hawk’s nest? This is that, but with dangerous criminals instead of birds.”

I squeeze her hand back. “I appreciate the concern, but this story?—”

“It’s not worth your life,” Cora finishes, the worry in her eyes painfully familiar. She’s worn that same expression through every risky decision I’ve made since we were kids. “What exactly is this Hunt anyway?”

I hesitate, the weight of the NDA’s true stipulations pressing down on me.

There’s no way I can tell Cora about the most disturbing clause—that whoever “catches” me during this Hunt gets to use me however they want.

The words of the document flash through my mind, sobering and terrifying in their implication.

If Cora knew the whole truth, she’d probably enlist her father’s security team to lock me away somewhere “for my own good.”

“I’m not entirely sure what it involves,” I lie, hating the way the words taste.

Twenty-two years of friendship, and here I am, lying to her face.

“Some kind of party, I think. Exclusive, invitation-only. The Blackwoods dress it up as a seasonal celebration, but I’m betting it’s where they let their guard down around their inner circle. ”

Cora narrows her eyes, studying me with the same scrutiny she’s had since we were kids. “You’re holding something back.”

I take another sip of coffee, using the mug as a shield. “It’s just... complicated. The NDA is extensive.”

“Mira.” Her voice drops, becoming serious. “We’ve known each other since we wore matching butterfly clips in our hair. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Look, it’s probably just some rich people’s party with fancy costumes and overpriced champagne,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone. “But it’s my chance to be in the same room with people who know what the Blackwoods are really up to.”

“And the Blackwoods personally invited you?” Her skepticism is palpable. “That doesn’t set off alarm bells?”

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance while my stomach knots. “Xavier probably invites lots of employees. It’s good for morale or whatever.”

“Since when do you care about workplace morale events?” Cora pushes her plate away. “These people are dangerous, Mira. This isn’t a game.”

“I know that,” I whisper, guilt eating away at me for the half-truths. “But this story matters. People need to know what’s happening inside Purgatory’s inner sanctuary.”

Cora sets her coffee down with a decisive click. “That settles it, then. I’m coming with you.”

My mouth falls open. “What? No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Her tone leaves no room for argument—the same voice she used when running for student body president. “If you’re walking into the lion’s den, you’re not doing it alone.”

“It’s not that simple.” I lean closer, lowering my voice despite the café’s ambient noise. “It’s an invite-only, Cora. Extremely exclusive. I can’t bring a plus-one like it’s some charity gala.”

“Then get me an invite.” She crosses her arms, her expression stubborn.

“You’re not listening. I can’t just?—”

“Get. Me. An. Invite.” Each word drops like a stone. “You know people there now. You’ve got connections. Use them.”

I push my hair back. The thought of Cora anywhere near the Hunt sends ice through my veins. “I don’t think I can. I barely got invited myself, and that was after weeks of careful positioning.” I couldn’t tell her how I had deliberately provoked Xavier.

“Try.” Her fingers drum against the table—a nervous habit she’s had since childhood. “Because if you don’t, I’ll go straight to Xavier Blackwood myself and get one.”

My blood freezes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” Her eyes flash. “I’ll walk right into Purgatory, find him, and introduce myself as the mayor’s daughter who’s very interested in his exclusive event.”

“Cora, you can’t?—”

“I can, and I will.” She leans forward. “Either you find a way to get me in, or I’ll find a way. Your choice.”

The idea of Cora—sweet, stubborn, completely unprepared—walking into Purgatory, heading straight for Xavier Blackwood without the faintest idea who she’s dealing with.

“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

Cora relaxes slightly. “That’s all I’m asking. Just try.”

I stir my coffee absently, dreading the conversation with Xavier. “And if he says no?”

“Then I’ll handle it myself.” She shrugs. “If Xavier Blackwood won’t let me in when you ask, I’ll approach him. After all, I’m the mayor’s daughter. That carries weight in this town, even with people like the Blackwoods.”

I press my lips together, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

I love Cora—she’s been my rock since we were kids, sharing fruit snacks on the playground—but this is exactly the problem.

She pulls the “mayor’s daughter” card like it’s a universal access pass, completely oblivious to the fact that men like Xavier Blackwood don’t care about local politics or whose daughter you are.

In Cora’s world, her father’s position is a currency that opens doors. In Xavier’s world, it would make her a target or, worse, a toy to break to prove he could.

“That’s not a good idea. Xavier isn’t impressed by local connections. ”

“Everyone’s impressed by connections.” She waves her hand dismissively. “It’s how the world works.”

I want to shake her, to make her understand that the rules of her world—charity galas and city council meetings—don’t apply in the shadows where Xavier operates.

But I can see that familiar stubborn set to her jaw.

The same expression she wore when she convinced the principal to let us start a school newspaper in fifth grade by casually mentioning her father might attend the next fundraiser.