Page 101 of Haunted

“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 evenwhoyou are, for that matter.”

We fall silent at my words, the weight of ourintrospection 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, nochanging 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.

39

XAVIER

The adrenaline still courses through my veins as I swing my leg over the BMW, the engine’s growl echoing through the garage. My brothers follow suit—Knox on his neon blue Aprilia, Vane mounting his green Kawasaki, and Landon settling onto his pristine white Ducati.

“Eagle Point?” Knox calls out over the rumble of engines.