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)
Visions of wild animals raced through her head. Rabbits snatched out of thin air by teeth. Bobcats growling. Claws sharper than razor blades.
She subconsciously reached for her locket, fingers pressing to her naked collar bones when she recalled it wasn’t there.
They reached the top of a grand staircase, and the voices grew louder. The scent of smoke and liquor hung in the air as a warning. They weren’t sober. Buoyant laughter erupted like a wave, spirited and entitled.
Daisy’s lungs turned shallow, each breath only scraping the surface before expelling in a rapid rush of fear. The stairs curved into a ballroom of impossible opulence. Crystal chandeliers sparkled over countless heads.
They were outnumbered. For every tribute, there was at least one hunter. How was she ever going to get away?
They clustered on a black marble floor, like gods walking on water. A full orchestra performed a seductive number, the luxury completely ignored.
“Over here, my does and stags,” Aunt V directed, luring them back from the landing’s edge.
One man spotted them and whistled, then they all howled like animals. A pack of wolves, ready to hunt. Hungry for blood.
They filled the room like shadows shifting into substance. Dark suits and gleaming masks. Drinking. Prowling. Every face obscured, as eyes flashed in firelight.
“We’re on the fucking menu…” Trisha’s words echoed in her mind.
If this were a feast, they were the sacrificial lambs heading to slaughter.
Stunned by such performative permission for what would be an unholy ritual of sin and sacrifice, Daisy’s jaw hung in shock as she took it all in. Everything about this was dystopian and wrong. They could die here, and not a single person would know. Vanish into the fog like darkness into the moaning earth. Not a single person would know. Her mother’s ashes would sit on that mantle forever, waiting for a daughter who never came home, while Maryanne and the others at the laundry slowly accepted she was never coming back.
An unsolved mystery that quickly went cold and lost interest.
The thought chilled her to the bone.
The NDA. The secrecy. The flight. She didn’t even know where the fuck she was.
She couldn’t breathe.
They were going to die on this island, and no one would ever find whatever was left of them come dawn.
Aunt Vanessa stepped onto the landing. “Good evening, hunters—”
A wild roar swallowed the rest of her words as Daisy’s heartbeat boomed like thunder in her ears. The sound sharpened to a piercing whistle only Daisy could hear.
The first tribute descended, and the hunter’s heads turned in unison, tracking her movement like wolves trailing a deer emerging from a tree line.
Applause rippled through the crowd, disrupting the piercing whistle in Daisy’s head. Aunt V announced the next number. Closer and closer, Daisy moved to the landing.
Scattered applause and cheers. Focused and rowdy. Thumping fists and crude cat calls. Daisy’s stomach turned.
One by one, the tributes descended into the unknown. Tagged and numbered like livestock. Appraised.
Hungry eyes. Licking lips. Their energy was palpable and as dangerous as a tempting flame. The applause grew in intensity, vibrating the floors and walls. The more tributes presented, the more the hunters wanted.
“Tribute 1922.”
Daisy’s legs refused to move.
Aunt Vanessa looked back, her insistent eyes urging her to move. “Tribute 1922.”
Someone nudged Daisy from behind, and she stumbled forward, catching herself on the banister as she stared over the ledge as if looking out at her death. Heat flooded her cheeks as her knees shook beneath her dress.
Slick hands. Cold skin. And that damn ringing in her ears. They roared and clapped, calling her like a dog.
The staircase stretched before her like a gauntlet.
Aunt V smiled and reached out a hand, too far to touch her, but somehow coaxing her down. She descended, one step at a time, into the pit of rabid masked men.
The applause erupted when she reached the landing, crashing like a cold wave over her chilled skin. Too loud. Too eager. Masks turned, eyes glittering behind elaborate disguises. Hands slammed together with deliberate force. They were all looking at her.
One man, in a plum tuxedo, clapped slower than all the rest, his gaze fixed deliberately on her, like a hook sinking into her skin.
The roar was unbearable. A physical force, a current, that beat her back like a boat against the shore. When she reached the ballroom floor, it was like stepping onto water. Her eyes played tricks on her, and her legs were unsure. Heart hammering hard enough to make her molars rattle, she rushed toward the growing line of tributes along the wall.
Only then did their heads turn back to the landing. All but one. The man in the purple suit continued to stare at her, his mouth slowly curving in a promising grin.
Daisy dropped her gaze, but breaking eye contact did nothing to shake the feeling that she’d just been marked.