Chapter 8 Sadie
SADIE
The porcelain mask feels heavy in my hands as I approach the entrance to Purgatory. It arrived yesterday in a black, crimson-edged mailing box.
“ID?” The bouncer’s face remains impassive as I fumble with my wallet.
My hands shake so badly that I drop my driver’s license twice before successfully presenting it. The man checks a tablet, nods, and steps aside.
“Hunt participants’ entrance is through that door.” He points to a separate entrance hidden in shadow. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
I should turn around. Walk away. Delete Landon’s number. Change my locks, my passwords, my entire digital footprint. But here I am, stepping toward that door like a moth to a flame that promises to burn me alive.
Since that day at work—since he made me touch myself at my desk while my coworkers sat feet away—I’ve felt him everywhere.
In the static of my phone calls. The blinking cursor on my screen.
The shadow that lurks just outside my peripheral vision.
Yet not a word from him. No texts. No emails.
No more hacked monitors with explicit threats.
The silence somehow feels worse than the violation.
I pull open the heavy door and step into a dimly lit hallway. My heels click against the polished concrete floor, each step echoing like a countdown.
A woman in a sleek black dress appears at the end of the corridor. “Ms. Reynolds. You’re the first to arrive.”
Of course I am. Punctuality: my most useless superpower.
“The other participants should be here shortly. In the meantime, would you like to familiarize yourself with the space?”
I clutch the mask tighter, its edges digging into my palms. “Is anyone else here? The... hunters?”
Her smile reveals nothing. “They have separate preparations. You won’t see them until the Hunt begins.”
But one of them sees me. I know he does. Even now, in this hallway, in this moment, Landon is watching.
I take a deep breath. “Show me around.”
The woman leads me down the hallway, her heels clicking in perfect rhythm. “This is what we call the outer sanctum,” she explains, gesturing to the sleek, minimalist space. “It’s where participants can relax before and after events.”
The walls are a deep charcoal, adorned with abstract art pieces that hint at sensuality without being explicit. Soft ambient lighting casts everything in a warm glow. It’s more of an upscale art gallery than a sex club—at least in this section.
“Through there,” she points to imposing double doors at the far end of the corridor, “is where the Hunt itself unfolds. The maze covers three floors and two thousand square meters, filled with various themed rooms and obstacles.” Her smile remains professional.
“You won’t have access until the Hunt officially begins. Security is quite strict about that.”
I stare at those doors, trying to imagine what waits beyond them. What he has planned for me.
“This way, please.” She guides me to a smaller door, which opens to reveal what can only be described as the most luxurious dressing room I’ve ever seen.
Plush velvet chairs surround a central vanity area that’s cloaked in soft lighting, giving the atmosphere a professionally curated feel.
The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, making the space feel infinite.
Fresh flowers perfume the air, and a small table holds an array of expensive-looking snacks and beverages.
“Would you care for a drink? We have champagne, wine, or something stronger if you prefer. Many participants find a touch of liquid courage helpful.” She moves to a small bar in the corner. “Nothing excessive, of course. The Hunt requires... alertness.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity. Here I am in what looks like a celebrity’s dressing room, being offered champagne by a woman who could be working at a five-star hotel, all while preparing to be hunted like sexual chattel through a maze by men wearing masks.
“Water, please,” I manage, setting my mask down on the vanity. “Just water for now.”
She nods, pouring crystal-clear water into a cut-glass tumbler. “The other women should arrive shortly. You’ll have time to change and prepare together before the Hunt begins.”
I settle into one of the velvet chairs, my fingers tracing nervous patterns on the armrests. The room feels too large, too quiet, too ready for whatever is about to happen. I take a sip of water, but it does nothing to soothe the desert that’s settled in my throat.
The door swings open without warning.
Landon strides in—tall, imposing, utterly out of place in a space designated for women.
I bolt to my feet. “What are you doing here? This area is only for... for prey.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Rules don’t apply to me, Sadie.
I thought you’d have figured that out by now.
” He moves toward me with deliberate steps, backing me against the wall until I feel the cool surface press against my shoulder blades.
His body cages mine without touching me.
“Did you believe I wouldn’t recognize your worth?
” Landon drawls, a smirk ghosting his lips as his icy blue gaze lingers on my every move.
“Tonight, I’m not just hunting—I’m claiming what’s mine. ”
“Leave me alone,” I demand.
“Did you enjoy our little chat at work?” He shakes his head. “I certainly did. Watching you try to keep your composure while your coworkers had no idea what was happening under your desk.”
My cheeks burn with humiliation. “You could have gotten me fired.”
“But I didn’t.” His fingers hover near my face, not quite touching. “Because I take care of what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours.”
“Yet.” Landon leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Did you think about removing my access? My cameras? My programs?”
The question makes my stomach clench. Of course I had—I’m a security expert. But every time I considered it, I remembered the video he has of me touching myself, moaning his name.
“You know I can’t,” I whisper.
His eyes light up with satisfaction. “And have you followed all my rules? Have you kept your hands to yourself like a good girl?”
I nod, hating how my body responds to his words despite everything.
“Show me your hands,” he commands.
I hold them up, palms forward.
Landon takes my wrists, examining them as if he can somehow detect if I masturbated again since that time at work.
“These hands belong to me now. Everything they touch, everything they do—it’s all mine.
” His grip tightens enough to show he could hurt me if he wanted to. “Remember that when the Hunt begins.”
His grip on my wrists softens as he leans in closer, his nose tracing a line from my ear down to my neck. I feel the slight inhale as he breathes me in.
“Every night I watch you, Sadie. Every night I see you touch things that should be mine to touch.” His lips brush against my skin as he speaks, sending electricity down my spine. “Do you know what I think about?”
I remain silent, frozen between fear and a shameful, burning curiosity.
“I think about marking every inch of your skin. Making you bleed just a little.” His free hand slides up to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “Just enough that you never forget who you belong to.”
My breath hitches. His words should strike fear, but instead they rouse a darkness I never knew slept inside me.
Landon dips his head lower, and suddenly I feel the wet heat of his tongue against my collarbone. Not a kiss—a claim. He traces the ridge of bone torturously slow, tasting me as if I’m something to be savored.
“I’m going to hunt you through every section of that maze,” he whispers against my damp skin. “And when I catch you—not if, when—I’m going to peel away every layer you’ve built around yourself. I’ll make you beg. Make you sob. Make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
His tongue flicks out again, this time following the hollow of my throat upward.
“The things in your nightmares, Sadie? They’re nothing compared to what lives in my head. The things I want to do to you...” He inhales sharply. “I want to consume you until there’s nothing left that isn’t mine.”
I should be running. Screaming. Instead, I’m melting against the wall, my body betraying me with each passing second.
The moment shatters with the sound of the door swinging open.
“Well, looks like the party started without me.”
Landon steps back smoothly, creating distance between us with such practiced ease that I wonder how many times he’s been caught in similar situations. My skin burns where his tongue touched me.
The woman who entered stands tall in the doorway, confidence radiating from her. Her glossy black hair falls in perfect waves, and her amber eyes take in the scene with amused interest rather than embarrassment.
“I’m Lia,” she says, stepping into the room with the grace of someone who knows exactly how much space she occupies.
Her gaze shifts between Landon and me, a smile playing at her lips.
“I didn’t realize we’d get private time with the hunters before things officially begin. Should I have arrived earlier?”
There’s no fear in her voice. This woman isn’t dreading being hunted; she’s looking forward to it.
Landon’s expression is unreadable. “Ms. Morgan. I believe my brother will be interested to know you’ve arrived.”
“Vane?” She sets down an expensive-looking leather bag. “Looking forward to making him eat my dust again after all these years. If he thinks he’ll be the one to catch me, he’ll have to think again.”
I feel myself shrinking beside her confidence, my anxiety magnified by her eagerness. While I’m barely keeping myself together, she looks ready to run straight into the labyrinth.
“I should go,” Landon says, his eyes fixed on me despite addressing Lia. “The Hunt begins soon. Make yourselves comfortable.”
As he walks past Lia, she doesn’t step aside—making him move around her instead. A small power play that doesn’t go unnoticed.
When the door closes, Lia turns to me with a conspiratorial smile. “So, which Blackwood brother has his eye on you? Based on that little scene I interrupted, I’m guessing it’s the psychotic one?”
“Psychotic one?” I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
She says it lightly, as if she’s sharing a simple quirk, not something that chills me to the bone. The way she watches me—half amused, half pitying—only deepens my unease.
“I don’t... I mean, I didn’t realize they had specific reputations.” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
Lia raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You signed up for the Hollow’s Hunt without researching the Blackwood brothers? Seriously?”
Heat rushes to my face. Of course, I should have done more research. But with this... I just jumped in.
“I know they’re dangerous,” I manage to say. “Obviously. But I don’t exactly move in circles where people gossip about billionaire families.”
My world is computers and code. Safe, predictable, logical.
I spend my weekends debugging systems and watching medical dramas with a bowl of popcorn, not collecting intel on notorious men who run underground sex clubs.
I live in my bubble of algorithms and security protocols—a bubble that Landon pierced with terrifying ease.
Lia looks genuinely surprised. “Wow. Talk about going in blind.” She moves to the vanity, studying her reflection as she speaks.
“Well, if the quiet one with the intense stare is who I think it is, that’s Landon.
And yes, ‘psychotic’ is probably accurate.
Word is he’s the cold, calculating one. The type who can hack your life apart without blinking. ”
My blood runs cold. The man who forced me to touch myself at work while my colleagues sat nearby. The man who’s been watching me through my Google Home system. The man whose tongue was just on my skin.
And he’s the psychopath of the family?
What have I gotten myself into?