Chapter 7 Landon
LANDON
I lean back in my chair, a smile spreading across my face. “Found you,” I whisper, running my finger across her name on the screen.
The pieces click together now. Her response to my messages. The way she came when I threatened to take her regardless of consent. The puzzle of Sadie Reynolds becomes clearer with each little secret I uncover.
I pull up her yearbook photo from that year. Braces. Awkward smile. Already beautiful but not yet aware just how powerful that makes her. I wonder if that’s when she built her first firewall—not just for computers, but around herself.
This assault report explains so much. The way she flinches when touched unexpectedly. How she positions herself with her back to the wall in public spaces. The locks she’s installed on her apartment door—three deadbolts where one would suffice.
I take a sip of whiskey, letting it burn down my throat. There’s a delicious intimacy knowing someone’s trauma before they’ve shared it with you. It’s like possessing a piece of their soul without permission.
“You want it taken from you, don’t you, Sadie?” I murmur to her image on my screen. “You need someone to force past those walls you’ve built. Someone to make the choice for you so you don’t have to admit what you want.”
Thomas Mercer fractured her in a way I can use, left a crack I can slip through.
During the Hunt, I’ll whisper enough to let her know I’ve seen her report. Watch her eyes widen with recognition. Then I’ll take her—roughly, completely—giving her exactly what she craves while letting her pretend she’s just a nerdy, proper girl.
My phone vibrates against the desk, shattering my concentration. Knox’s face flashes on the screen—his stupid grin eternalized in a photo I’ve been meaning to delete. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but I know he’ll just keep calling until I answer.
“What?” I snap, keeping my eyes on Sadie’s police report.
“There he is! The fun brother!” Knox’s voice booms through the speaker. Music pulses in the background. “Where the fuck are you? We’re all getting absolutely wrecked at Purgatory. Pre-hunt tradition, remember?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m busy.”
“Busy? It’s mandatory family bonding time. Even Xavier’s here, and you know what a miserable prick he can be.” Knox laughs at his own joke. “What could possibly be more important than drinking with your favorite brother?”
“Anything,” I mutter, saving Sadie’s file to my encrypted drive. “Literally anything.”
“Is this about your prey? You’re stalking her right now, aren’t you?” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s so fucking creepy, Landon. I love it.”
The way he says it—like we’re the same—makes my skin crawl. “We’re nothing alike, Knox.”
“Sure, we are! We’re both fucked up, just different flavors of fucked up. I’m the fun kind, you’re the serial killer kind.”
I stand, stretching my neck until it cracks. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stop calling.”
“That’s the spirit! Oh, and Landon?”
“What?”
“I saw your girl today. Passed her on the street. Thought about saying hello, maybe giving her a little preview of what’s coming—”
My grip tightens on the phone. “Touch what’s mine and I’ll peel your skin off while you watch in a fucking mirror.”
Knox’s delighted laughter fills my ear. “There’s my brother! See? We are the same.”
I hang up, resisting the urge to throw my phone against the wall. Knox is like a mosquito—irritating, bloodthirsty, and worse when he’s drunk. But he’s blood, and in our family, that’s all that matters.
I take one last look at Sadie’s photo before shutting down my computer. Soon I’ll know every part of her—body, mind, and all the broken pieces in between.
Walking out of the penthouse, I take the lift down to the garage.
I secure my helmet under my arm and swing my leg over my white Ducati Panigale. The engine roars to life beneath me, vibrating with power. This bike understands me—precision engineering, every component working in perfect harmony, no unnecessary parts.
Unlike my family gatherings.
The night air rushes past as I weave through the sparse traffic. My mind keeps drifting back to Sadie’s police report, to the secrets I’ve uncovered. Each revelation feels like another string to pull when the time comes.
I descend the ramp into Purgatory’s underground parking, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. My designated spot waits empty between Xavier’s red BMW and Knox’s obnoxious blue Aprilia. Vane’s space remains empty.
The elevator requires a fingerprint scan. The doors slide open to the thundering bass that vibrates through the club’s foundation. Bodies writhe on the dance floor, desperation masked as pleasure. I slip through the crowd, avoiding contact, making my way toward our private section.
Knox spots me first, raising his glass. “The prodigal stalker returns!”
Xavier sits at the center of our curved booth, expression impassive as he nurses what looks like scotch.
“Thought you might bail.” Xavier’s voice cuts through the music.
I slide into the booth. “And miss mandatory family bonding? Never.”
Knox pushes a tumbler of whiskey toward me. “We were just discussing our hunting strategies. X is going straight for the kill, typical boring shit. I’m thinking of playing with my prey first, really drag it out.”
“Your attention span isn’t long enough to drag anything out,” Xavier says flatly.
Knox clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, brother. I can focus when properly motivated.”
“Like that time you focused on watching our target’s warehouse and instead ended up fucking the barista across the street?”
“In my defense, she had spectacular—”
“What about you, Landon?” Xavier interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Still fixated on the cybersecurity specialist?”
I take a slow sip of whiskey. “She signed the paperwork.”
“That wasn’t the question.” Xavier’s gaze remains steady.
I meet Xavier’s gaze with indifference. This is what I hate most about my eldest brother—his ability to see past my bullshit. Our minds operate on similar frequencies, both of us analyzing and strategizing. The difference is in our execution.
“I’ve selected my participant. Nothing more.” I keep my voice flat, but Xavier’s slight smirk tells me he’s not fooled.
“You’re different with this one,” he says, swirling his scotch. “More... invested.”
Knox snorts. “Landon’s in love! How adorable.”
I shoot Knox a glare that would make most men piss themselves, but he grins wider. The bastard always does. I turn back to Xavier, whose gray eyes haven’t left mine.
That’s the problem with Xavier. Where I might spiral into obsessive patterns—cataloging every detail and creating intricate maps of behavior—Xavier maintains a cold distance.
“Whatever you are thinking, you’re wrong,” I state.
Xavier raises an eyebrow. “Am I? I know you, Landon. You’re like me. The difference is I don’t let my interests consume me.”
And there it is. The subtle jab wrapped in brotherhood. Xavier sees my obsession with Sadie as a weakness—a crack in my usually flawless system. He’s not wrong, which makes it worse.
I lean forward, setting my glass down with a tap against the table.
“That’s rich coming from you,” I say, holding Xavier’s gaze. “As if you’re not just as obsessed with your journalist.”
Xavier’s expression doesn’t change, but the slight tightening around his eyes tells me I’ve hit a nerve.
“She’s merely a liability that needs handling,” he responds.
“Bullshit.” I don’t raise my voice, but the word lands like a stone between us. “You were watching her before Knox mentioned she is a journalist. I’ve seen the surveillance files on your server.”
Knox’s eyes widen with delight. “Oh, this just got interesting.”
Xavier remains perfectly still. I’ve spent a lifetime reading my brother’s expressions, the tiny tells that betray everything he tries to hide.
“You think I don’t notice?” I continue. “The way you’ve tracked her movements for weeks. You’ve collected every article she’s ever written. The recordings of her voice you listen to when you think no one’s around.”
“Know thy enemy,” Xavier states.
“It’s more than that, and you know it.” I hold his gaze, unblinking.
“This isn’t about revenge or neutralizing a threat.
I’ve seen how you look at her. It’s the same way I.
..” I catch myself, redirecting. “You want her. Not just to punish her or put her in her place. You want her to submit to you completely.”
Xavier’s eyes darken, and for a moment, his perfect mask slips. There it is—the same hunger that claws at my insides when I think about Sadie.
The air between Xavier and me crackles with unspoken accusations. Neither of us is willing to back down, to admit what we both know is true. We’re mirrors of each other—calculating, obsessive, and loath to acknowledge it.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Vane’s voice cuts through our standoff as he strides toward our table.
My brother’s arrival shifts the energy immediately. Where Knox brings chaos and Xavier commands respect, Vane brings a razor-sharp unpredictability. He’s smiling, but his eyes are cold, scanning the table and instantly registering the tension.
“Thought I’d find you all here,” Vane says, sliding into the booth next to Knox. He eyes the bottles on the table. “Starting without me? I’m wounded.”
Knox throws an arm around Vane’s shoulders. “Had to get a head start. You take too fucking long to get ready. What is it—three hours in front of the mirror?”
Vane shrugs off Knox’s arm with a sneer. “Some of us actually care about looking presentable.” His gaze sweeps over Knox’s disheveled appearance. “Though I suppose when you look like something the cat dragged in, why bother trying?”
Knox clutches his chest. “You cut me deep, brother. Deep.”
“Who pissed in Xavier’s scotch?” Vane signals a waitress for a drink, his attention fixed on our eldest brother’s rigid posture.
I remain silent, still feeling Xavier’s cold gaze boring into me. Our unfinished conversation hangs between us like a blade.
“Just the usual pre-Hunt disagreements,” Xavier says smoothly.
Vane’s eyebrow lifts as he glances between us. “Landon is getting too attached to his prey again? Or is it Xavier this time?”
Neither of us answers, which is answer enough for Vane. His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft over your little hacker, Landon. We all remember what happened with Monica.”
The name hits me like ice water. Monica Talbit. The memory I’ve tried to bury.
“We’re not discussing that,” I warn.
Knox, never knowing when to shut up, jumps in. “God, that was fucked up. Even by our standards.” He turns to Vane, animated now. “Remember how she used to shake whenever Landon entered a room? Like a scared little rabbit.”
I grip my glass tighter, feeling my bones protest.
“That’s enough,” Xavier warns, but Knox is too drunk to heed it.
“And then he started showing up everywhere she went. The grocery store, her favorite coffee shop, her fucking dentist appointments.” Knox shakes his head. “Man, I thought I was the unhinged one.”
“I said enough,” Xavier repeats, his voice cutting through the music like a blade.
The memory surfaces despite my efforts to suppress it.
Monica’s wide eyes when I’d appear in places she thought were safe.
The tremor in her voice when she’d beg me to leave her alone.
The thrill I felt watching her terror grow, knowing I could take her whenever I wanted.
It wasn’t about sex—it was about fear. Her fear wasn’t just intoxicating, it was addictive as fuck and I needed my fix as much as I needed air.
“She came to me,” Xavier says, his eyes locked on mine. “Crying. Hysterical. Said you’d been in her apartment while she slept.”
I return his stare. “You had no right to interfere.”
“She wasn’t yours to keep terrorizing,” Xavier counters. “The Hunt has rules.”
“Rules you conveniently enforce when it suits you,” I spit back.
The tension between us crackles. We both remember how it ended—Xavier relocated Monica without telling me, and the fight that followed when I discovered what he’d done was extreme. We’d never physically fought like that before.
“Let’s not forget who you really are, Landon,” Xavier says coolly. “Don’t pretend this obsession with Sadie Reynolds is anything but the same sickness wearing a different mask.”
Xavier’s words hit hard, like a vase shattering, and each shard embedding under my skin. Heat crawls up my neck, burning across my face. My fingers clench around my whiskey glass so hard my knuckles crack.
“Fuck you.” The words slip through clenched teeth. “You don’t know anything about Sadie.”
Xavier’s expression remains unchanged. “I don’t need to know her to recognize your pattern.”
My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand abruptly. Knox’s eyes widen with gleeful anticipation of violence.
“This is different,” I insist, though the protest sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“Is it?” Xavier sips his scotch. “The surveillance. The information gathering. The obsessive need to command every interaction. Tell me, have you been inside her apartment when she wasn’t home?”
My silence answers for me.
“Thought so.” Xavier nods. “Just like Monica.”
I slam my palm against the table, sending glasses rattling. “Don’t say her fucking name.”
The music continues pulsing around us, but our section has gone quiet. A few patrons glance our way before quickly averting their eyes. Nobody interferes with Blackwood business.
I hate Xavier in this moment—hate his analytical mind that sees through my carefully constructed walls. Hate that he can reduce my complex feelings for Sadie to a pathological pattern.
Beneath the rage smolders a darker truth—the chilling certainty he could be right.
I’ve watched Sadie sleep through her security cameras. Cataloged her habits. Memorized her schedule. Created a digital shrine to her existence on my private server.
Just like Monica.
The realization sends ice through my veins, making my stomach churn. What if this is just the same darkness wearing Sadie’s name? What if I’m incapable of normal connection?
“Sadie is different,” I say, more to myself than Xavier. But even as the words leave my mouth, doubt slithers through me.
I’ve told myself this before.