Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
“Oh?” Stone’s green eyes sparked with interest. “Do tell.”
“Raphaël de Saint-Clair,” Jack said flatly. “His invitation’s been permanently revoked.” Jack’s tone made it clear the subject of the Frenchman was closed.
“Fair enough.” Hunter did the math. “Fifty-four hunters at two million each—that’s a minimum of one hundred and eight million on the table—more if they come as hungry as they came last year.”
Jack made sure the tributes were compensated fairly for every exchange—doubly for the captures that took a greater toll. “They’re worth every cent.” He set down his fork.
The men met his stare and nodded in agreement. “We’ll take good care of them, J. We always do.”
Chapter Ten
The White Swan
The doctor wasn’t examining her.
He was previewing her.
“I’m one of the hunters…” Dr. Tannhäuser’s parting words echoed in the hollow chamber of her chest.
Every clinical touch, every lingering glance, every question designed to probe… It might have been disguised as a health screening, but he was sampling the menu before the feast. The realization settled into Daisy’s bones like ice water as she sat rigid in the back of yet another sleek, unmarked town car, watching the unfamiliar landscape blur past the tinted windows.
She shivered, wishing she could wash the entire experience from her mind as much as she wanted to scrub away the sensation of his touch from her body. Tomorrow night, he would be among those chasing her through whatever playground they were taking her to.
He took pictures…
Were there hidden cameras too? Records? Daisy pressed a hand against her stomach, willing the nausea to subside.
The injection site on her arm still burned with a dull, chemical ache. Marked. Property for the next two days. Tagged, like some sort of offering for an auction. She had never been more aware of her fragility as a human while also feeling utterly dehumanized.
The driver, another silent stranger in a pressed black suit, had refused to answer even her simplest questions. His eyes never left the road, his leather-gloved hands stayed firmly on the wheel. She might as well have been cargo.
She needed to keep her wits. From this moment forward, she would trust no one but herself. Not the doctors. Not the drivers. Not the hosts. Not whoever JT was. No one.
Survival depended on her. The goal was getting to the finish line unscathed. Kind of difficult when she had absolutely no idea what the terrain looked like or who she would be up against. In a place where opponents looked like helpers, and predators disguised trespasses as protocol, she needed to question everyone and trust no one.
Everyone was now a suspect.
Steel took shape beneath her ribs. Not courage, exactly, but something adjacent to it.
Calculation.
Strategy.
The cold arithmetic of survival that poverty had instilled in her long ago.
She was doing this for the money. For a chance at a life where breathing didn’t feel like drowning.
Her first priority, and her best chance at making it through this in one, sane piece, was to evade the hunters. Then she could take her million and run. Disappear into some quiet corner of the world where no one knew her name or what she’d done to escape poverty.
Two days. That was all she had to survive.
Her plan was simple. Trust no one. Keep quiet. Evade. Survive. Don’t get caught.
She would become small. Invisible. Show no vulnerability.
Daisy’s hand rose instinctively to clutch the locket as it pressed warm against her collarbone. Closing her eyes, she sent out a silent prayer. If guardian angels existed, she hoped her mother would watch over her.
Dr. Tannhäuser’s warning surfaced unbidden. “If I were you, I’d put that locket in a safe place—if it’s important to you...”
It pained her to remove it, but until she knew she was safe, she needed to keep it hidden. Her fingers found the clasp, the tiny click too loud in the quiet car.
Cupping the chain lovingly in her palm, she opened the engraved gold oval. Inside, her mother’s tired eyes smiled back at her from behind the scratched glass. A younger image of herself, skinny and gap-toothed, pressed against her.
God, she missed those hugs, that feeling of sanctuary only a mother’s embrace could deliver.
Even back then, her mother had been dying by degrees. Lungs slowly filling with chemical fog that would eventually steal her last breath. It was why Daisy couldn’t stay at the laundry for much longer.
I’m trying, Mum. I’m trying to make it better.
Bringing the locket to her lips, she pressed a soft kiss to the warm metal. She couldn’t lose it. Glancing at the driver’s rearview mirror, confirming his attention remained fixed on the road, she tucked it carefully into the small front pocket of her jeans, perfectly sized for secrets.
The inconsequential weight settled against her hip like a hidden heartbeat. Still with her.
After this was over, she would finally have some closure. Daisy longed to give her mother the burial she deserved. Something beautiful. Something permanent. A garden with a headstone. A place where pink blossoms might fall in spring.