Chapter 23 Sadie
SADIE
After the bath, Landon dresses me in a black dress that barely qualifies as clothing. The silky fabric clings to every curve, the neckline plunging dangerously low while the hem barely covers the essentials. I feel naked despite being technically clothed.
“Perfect,” Landon states.
My cheeks burn. The dress displays all the marks Landon has left on my skin like a twisted exhibition. Fingerprints on my thighs. Bite marks across my collarbone. Evidence of his possession.
He takes my hand, his grip firm as he leads me through a corridor. The walls shift from the maze’s industrial concrete to polished marble, the lighting changing from harsh fluorescents to warm amber tones cast by ornate sconces.
“Remember,” he whispers against my ear, “you don’t leave my side. Not for a moment.”
I nod, unable to form words. The intimacy of our bath has left me disoriented.
We enter through massive double doors into what must be the feast room. One huge, long glass table stretches across the cavernous space. Silver candelabras hold black candles whose flames cast dancing shadows across the walls. Crystal glasses glitter like stars against the dim lighting.
Some of the hunters are already seated at the glass table, their prizes standing obediently beside them.
I recognize Vane Blackwood, his mask pushed up as he drinks deeply from a crystal goblet.
The woman beside him—Lia stares straight ahead, her expression still excited despite the welts on her wrists.
Landon pulls out a chair and sits with casual elegance. I remain standing beside him, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. My heart pounds against my ribs.
Is this some final ritual to conclude the Hunt?
The thought makes my stomach clench.
“Eyes down, little butterfly,” Landon murmurs when I dare a glance at the other women.
I comply, watching his hand instead as it comes to rest possessively on my thigh. His fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, just below the hem of this dress.
The room fills with more hunters and their bounty. Conversations buzz around us in hushed tones. I catch fragments—boasts about conquests, comparisons of techniques, laughter at particularly spirited resistance.
My legs tremble slightly with fatigue and anxiety. Standing here displayed like a trophy while they discuss us as if we’re not present makes me feel less than human. Yet a darker current coils within me—shame tangled with pride at being claimed by Landon, at bearing his marks in plain sight.
I hear approaching footsteps and tense, afraid of what comes next.
Glancing up, I see the three masked men enter the feast room, parading Cora Pike between them.
Her hair is disheveled, and makeup is smeared across her flushed face.
Despite this—or perhaps because of it—she looks strangely regal.
The mayor’s daughter, brought low yet somehow elevated.
The three men position her between their chairs.
My breath catches when a man wearing a blue mask walks in.
Beside him is Bianca who I met during the preparations for the Hunt.
Her eyes dart nervously around the room before settling on the floor.
Unlike Cora’s obvious marks of possession, Bianca’s skin bears subtler evidence of Knox’s attention—just a few dark bruises blooming in carefully chosen places.
The room falls silent as Xavier Blackwood enters with Mira. His red mask creates a startling contrast against his dark suit. Mira’s face is unreadable as she walks beside him, her steps measured and graceful.
Xavier takes his seat at the head of the table, then pulls Mira onto his lap in one fluid motion. Her sharp intake of breath echoes through the room as he positions her—there’s no mistaking what he’s doing. Mira’s eyes widen, her lips parting in a silent gasp as Xavier settles her fully onto him.
Around the table, the other hunters follow his lead. The three men arrange Cora between them, one sliding her onto his cock while the others play with her. Knox yanks Bianca onto his lap.
Landon’s hands suddenly grip my waist. “Your turn, little butterfly.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s lifting me, positioning me. I feel him beneath my dress, and then—
“No,” I gasp, trying to rise. My body tenses at the sudden intrusion.
Landon’s grip tightens, holding me firmly in place. “Shhh,” he breathes against my ear. “Remember what you are now.”
I wince as he settles me fully onto his cock, my hands gripping the edge of the table. All of us—Mira, Cora, Bianca, Keira, Lia, and, surprisingly, one of the hunters—face the table like obedient dolls while the feast begins around us.
The servers arrive with platters of food, moving around the table as if this scene—women and men impaled on their captors’ laps—is completely normal. Landon shifts beneath me, and I bite my lip to suppress a gasp.
“Everyone looks so civilized,” Landon taunts. “But they all know what’s happening under this table.”
I try to remain still, acutely aware of the other diners, but Landon has other plans. His hips move, thrusting upward in a rhythm that makes my breath catch.
“Please,” I murmur. “Not here. Not like this.”
His fingers dig into my hips, forcing me down harder as he increases his pace. “There it is,” he hisses. “That word. No. Do you know what it does to me?”
I shake my head, trying desperately to maintain composure as he continues his relentless assault beneath the table.
“It makes me want to break you apart even more,” Landon murmurs, his lips brushing my earlobe. “I can’t help myself when you say no. Inside me, a switch just flips.”
His movements become forceful, each thrust punctuated by a tightening of his grip. My body betrays me, responding to him even as my mind recoils.
A commotion at the entrance draws my attention. The grand doors open, and men and women enter, all of them dressed elegantly. Suddenly, a man, whom I recognize roars, “CORA!” He lunges forward with violent intent. “Get your filthy hands off my daughter! LET HER GO!”
Mayor Pike.
The realization hits me as I watch his expression transform from confusion to horror when he spots his daughter positioned between three masked men, actively engaged with one while the others touch her possessively.
“Daddy, I—” Cora’s attempts to lift herself off one of the hunter’s laps, shifting as she moves to close her legs and stand. “Please, I can explain—”
We’re at a formal dinner table with fine china and crystal goblets while being intimately violated beneath it. People are literally taking their seats around us to eat a meal while we’re impaled on these men. The sheer insanity of this scenario leaves me reeling.
Landon’s hand suddenly grips my jaw, forcing my attention back to him. “Focus on me, little butterfly,” he commands. “Nothing else matters.”
He lifts a fork with a morsel of food to my lips. When I hesitate, his other hand tightens painfully on my hip, driving me down harder onto him. I gasp, my mouth opening involuntarily, and he slips the food inside.
“Chew,” he instructs. “Good girl.”
The mayor’s angry voice continues in the background.
“Forget them,” Landon urges. “There’s only you and me in this room. Do you understand?”
I nod, swallowing mechanically as he feeds me another morsel. His pace increases beneath the table, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.
“Say it,” he demands, fingers digging into my jaw.
“Only you and me,” I repeat, my voice trembling as I surrender to his command.
The chaos around us seems to fade into muffled background noise as Landon commands my complete attention. Landon continues his methodical assault—both with the food at my lips and the relentless movement beneath the table.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice a silken trap. “Just focus on me.”
Landon shifts, hitting a spot that makes me gasp.
“I told you,” he whispers against my ear, “nothing else matters.”
Servers continue to move efficiently around the table, placing plates and filling glasses as if nothing unusual is happening. Their indifference only heightens how surreal this moment is.
Landon lifts another bite to my lips, his eyes never leaving mine. “Open,” he commands.
I comply, unable to disobey when he’s mastering my body so completely. The rich flavors burst across my tongue.
“Good girl,” he praises. “My perfect little butterfly.”
The world around me blurs at the edges. Mayor Pike’s outrage, the other hunters with their prey, the elegant feast setting—it all fades like background static as my focus narrows to the man behind me.
“Just us,” I breathe.
He offers another bite from his fork. The flavors barely register—my senses overwhelmed by the fullness inside me, the rhythm he sets without seeming to move. His eyes hold mine captive as surely as his body does.
“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Nothing else matters.”
A wall within me crumbles, resistance draining away like rain into a gutter.
Why am I fighting this?
The question floats through my mind as Landon adjusts our position, hitting a spot that makes my breath catch.
“I’m yours,” I breathe, and the strangest thing happens—saying the words aloud feels like relief. Like setting down a heavy burden I’ve carried too long.
My world contracts further until there’s only this—the exquisite pressure of him inside me, the brush of his lips against my neck, the food he places delicately in my mouth. The dual sensation of being filled and fed creates a strange harmony, satisfying needs I never knew were connected.
Another bite. Another thrust. My body responds to both with equal hunger.
“Good girl,” he praises, and warmth blooms in my chest at his approval.
I’ve stopped trying to make sense of this—of us. All that matters is the way he moves beneath me, the way he feeds me, the way my body yields to his dominion. I’m losing myself in this surrender, and the terrifying part is how right it feels.