Chapter 8 Liam
LIAM
Iwatch Cora flee, her torn dress fluttering behind her as she disappears down the corridor. Dominic smirks, already planning his pursuit, while Ryder’s eyes gleam with predatory excitement.
But they’re missing what I see.
That flash in her eyes before she ran wasn’t just fear or relief. It was a determined intelligence. The girl everyone dismisses as Mayor Pike’s spoiled daughter is working angles, even now.
“What are you smiling about?” Dominic asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Just appreciating the complexities of our prey,” I reply, straightening my cuffs. “She’s not what you think.”
Ryder scoffs. “She’s exactly what I expected. Privileged, sheltered, and about to learn a harsh lesson.”
I say nothing, remembering the bruise on her jaw. The way her shoulders squared when cornered. How she leaned into Dominic’s touch even as defiance burned in her eyes. That dichotomy speaks volumes.
Everyone sees the mask—the rebellious rich girl. But I recognize the performance because I’ve perfected my own. Behind my polished exterior is someone who clawed his way up from nothing, who learned to reflect what people expected to see.
Cora Pike does the same. She wears her defiance like designer armor, but underneath is someone desperately trying to escape a cage. I know that feeling intimately.
“Don’t underestimate her,” I warn them as we prepare to give chase. “There’s more steel in her spine than either of you realizes.”
Dominic rolls his eyes. “Save the psychological profile, counselor. We’re here to break her, not understand her.”
But understanding is power. And seeing myself in her doesn’t diminish my desire to possess her; it heightens it.
Because breaking someone requires knowing exactly where the fault lines lie.
The three of us stand in the corridor, listening to Cora’s footsteps fade into the distance.
“We need a strategy,” Ryder says, pulling a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket. “The maze changes every Hunt. Xavier gave me a rough map of this year’s layout.”
He sketches quickly on a blank page, outlining corridors and chambers.
“She’s heading northeast, which means she’ll eventually hit this junction.
” His finger taps a spot where several paths converge.
“These three paths all loop back to the center eventually, but this one—” he traces a winding line, “—leads to the specialty rooms.”
Dominic examines the crude map. “Where specifically should we corral her?”
I study the pattern, thinking about Cora’s reactions to each of us.
“The Red Room would be perfect. One entrance, plenty of... amenities. She’s smart,” I state, watching their expressions.
“But she’s making snap judgments based on limited information.
The way she looked at each of us, I sense that she thinks Ryder is the nice one. ”
Both men turn to me, Dominic with a raised eyebrow, Ryder with a slow smile spreading across his face.
“How so?” Dominic asks.
“Your physical presence, the way you immediately took control of the space—you frightened her. I represented people that her father despises, which makes me guilty by association. But Ryder...” I nod toward him, “she responded differently to you. Your approach was more casual, less threatening. We can use that.”
Dominic’s eyes narrow. “How?”
“Ryder catches up to her first,” I explain. “Plays the sympathetic card. Says he can help her stay away from us, guide her somewhere safe to hide. He’ll claim he wants her for himself, that he can protect her from the other two big bad wolves.”
Ryder nods, catching on immediately. “Then I guide her straight to the Red Room.”
“Exactly,” I confirm. “Where Dominic and I will be waiting. She’ll walk right into our trap, thinking she’s found safety.”
Dominic considers this, then gives a curt nod. “Perfect. She’ll be completely off-guard when the door closes behind her.”
Our strategy set, a quiet tension fills the corridor as the final seconds of Cora’s head start tick away. Dominic checks his watch, his jaw tight with anticipation.
“Time’s up,” he announces. “Let the real Hunt begin.”
Ryder tucks his notebook away, flashing us a confident grin. “I’ll find her within fifteen minutes. The mayor’s princess isn’t as unpredictable as she thinks.”
“You’re sure you can handle this part alone?” I ask, deliberately challenging him.
He laughs. “I’ve tracked targets in Kabul during my military years. One frightened socialite won’t be difficult.” He taps his temple. “Besides, I’ve memorized her running patterns from the surveillance feed. She favors right turns when panicked.”
As Ryder disappears down the northeastern corridor, Dominic turns to me. “Let’s move. The Red Room needs preparation.”
We take the western passage—a service route unavailable to prey during the Hunt. Dominic moves with purpose, his footsteps nearly silent despite his size. The man carries power in his very posture.
“There’s a shortcut through section 6,” I tell him, leading us to an unassuming wall panel. “The maze reconfigures through pressure plates. Step here—” I press my foot against a slightly discolored floor tile, “—and here.”
The wall slides open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a narrow passage.
“How many times have you participated in these hunts?” Dominic asks as we navigate the hidden corridor.
“Enough to know which mechanisms Xavier keeps consistent year after year.”
We reach another pressure plate, and I motion for Dominic to stop. “Step only where I step. The wrong plate will trigger the wrong wall.”
I carefully press my weight onto a specific tile, watching as another section of wall silently retracts.
“Three more shortcuts and we’ll reach the Red Room well before Ryder ever finds her,” I explain.
As we navigate the hidden corridors, I find myself hyper-aware of Dominic’s presence behind me. The passage narrows, forcing us closer together. I can practically feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You seem to know this place intimately,” Dominic observes.
I glance over my shoulder, catching his gaze in the dim light. “I make it my business to know the architecture of any situation I enter.”
“A control freak, then.” There’s amusement in his tone.
“Says the man who micromanaged every aspect of the Bayside Tower development,” I counter, remembering the news articles about his notorious attention to detail.
Dominic’s laugh is unexpected—a rich, genuine sound that vibrates through the narrow passageway. “Touché, counselor.”
We reach another junction, and I pause to press the correct pressure plate. As the wall slides open, Dominic steps too close, his chest brushing against my back. Neither of us moves to create distance.
“After you,” he says, his breath warm against my neck.
The corridor widens as we approach the Red Room. I’m relieved and oddly disappointed by the additional space between us.
The Red Room lives up to its name—dark crimson walls, black furnishings, and strategically placed lighting that creates both shadows and exposure. It’s designed for a very specific purpose.
As I run my fingers over the various restraints mounted to the walls, I consider our current dynamic. “We should discuss logistics before she arrives.”
Dominic examines a cabinet of implements, selecting a riding crop with meticulous care. “What’s to discuss? She’s the prey, we’re the hunters.”
“Three hunters, one prey.” I turn to face him. “That requires choreography, especially if we’re all going to have our turn simultaneously.”
His expression tightens almost imperceptibly. “You have a suggestion, counselor?”
I approach the oversized four-poster bed, mentally mapping positions. “She’ll be overwhelmed, that’s part of the point. But we need to be coordinated, not chaotic.” I gesture to the bed. “She could be on all fours, taking you from behind while servicing Ryder orally.”
“And where does that leave you?” Dominic asks, testing the crop against his palm.
“Beneath her.” I meet his gaze directly. “Or behind Ryder, depending on how things develop.”
Dominic’s jaw flexes. “Behind Ryder?”
“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” I say, watching his reaction carefully. “The way Ryder looks at both of us suggests he’d be amenable to exploring beyond our shared interest in the mayor’s daughter.”
“I’m here for the girl,” Dominic states flatly, but his eyes linger on me a second too long.
“As am I,” I concede, adjusting the restraints on one bedpost. “But seventy-two hours is a long time with just one plaything, especially when there are other... possibilities in the room.”
Dominic selects several silk ties from a drawer. “You’ve participated in these arrangements before?”
“With men?” I raise an eyebrow. “Let’s just say I don’t limit my options based on arbitrary categories.”
He doesn’t respond, but the slight tension in his shoulders tells me he’s processing this information.
“Ryder won’t be so hesitant,” I add. “He practically undressed both of us with his eyes earlier. I know that he enjoys the company of men and women.”
Dominic approaches, silk ties dangling from his fingers. For a moment, we stand too close, the air between us charged.
“You’re rather presumptuous about what may happen in this room,” he says, voice dropping lower.
I shrug, maintaining eye contact. “I prefer to consider all possibilities. Preparation is everything.”
“And yet you’ve revealed quite a bit about your own... preferences.” Dominic runs the silk between his fingers, a subtle demonstration of control that doesn’t go unnoticed.
I smile. “Information freely given isn’t a vulnerability. It’s a negotiation tactic.”
He steps closer. “Always the lawyer.”
“Always.” I don’t back away. The proximity tests us both.
The sound of our earpieces crackling makes us both stop. Ryder’s voice comes through, slightly breathless.
“I’ve made contact. She’s hesitant but responsive. ETA seven minutes.”
Dominic presses a finger against his ear. “Status?”
“Frightened but trusting. She believes I’m helping her escape you two monsters.” Ryder’s laugh is low. “Playing the savior is deliciously effective.”
“Don’t rush it,” I advise. “The betrayal hits harder when she fully believes she’s safe.”
“Trust me, counselor. I know what I’m doing.”
The connection clicks off. Dominic turns his back to me, resuming his preparations. He arranges the ties on the bed, spacing them precisely at each corner.
I watch him work, appreciating the fluidity of his motions. There’s an unexpected grace to this man who projects such unyielding strength. The contradiction is intriguing.
The tension between us isn’t just about the Hunt anymore. Each glance holds a question, each movement an unspoken challenge. We circle each other like predators sharing territory—cautious, calculating, curious.
Soon Ryder will deliver Cora to us, the perfect vessel for our collective vengeance. But something else has been set in motion here. I feel it in the way Dominic’s eyes linger when he thinks I’m not looking. In the deliberate way that our hands avoid touching as we prepare the room.
Two alpha personalities, neither willing to yield, both secretly wondering what it would be like if one did. And when Ryder joins us, bringing not just Cora but his own energy to this equation, the possibilities become even more... compelling.