The soft thud of the Hunt’s entrance door closing behind us echoes through the dimly lit corridor. Elliot and I walk side by side, our steps measured as we navigate the labyrinthine passages of the Blackwood estate. We have fifteen minutes before Victor and Julian enter.
“So, where should we stage our little escapade?” Elliot asks, his voice carrying a hint of excitement.
I consider the options, remembering the layout from last year’s Hunt. “Somewhere with a strategic advantage. Somewhere that means something.”
Elliot’s lips curl up. “I know just the place. The mirror room in the east wing.” His eyes take on a distant quality. “It’s where Julian and I first... where he made me come with just his mouth. I was still pretending to be straight then.”
“The mirror room it is,” I agree, turning down another corridor. “Victor would appreciate the symmetry too. It’s where he first bottomed for me.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a moment before Elliot speaks again.
“How are things progressing with your alpha fighter? Still keeping one foot in the closet?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Victor’s trying. He acknowledged our relationship at his gym, in front of his core team. But public? That’s still a work in progress.”
“At least he knows who he is,” Elliot offers. “I always knew I was gay—never questioned it. I just buried it under family expectations and fear. Spent years perfecting the art of appearing straight without actually saying I was.”
“That’s the difference, isn’t it?” I reply. “I’ve never hidden who I am. Coming out wasn’t even a thing for me—I just was. But Victor...” I shake my head. “He’s spent his whole life believing he was straight. Building an identity around it. Now he’s realizing he’s bisexual and having to reconstruct everything he thought he knew about himself.”
We reach the mirror room, its glass surfaces reflecting our forms infinitely. I run my fingers along the cold glass of a mirrored wall.
“This is perfect,” I murmur. “It will be so hot to watch ourselves.”
Elliot nods, his lips curving into a smile. “There’s something deliciously narcissistic about the mirrors. Watching yourself come apart while someone else watches you watch yourself.”
We settle onto the plush velvet bench in the center of the room, angled to provide the best view of any entrance.
“Can you believe it’s been exactly a year?” Elliot asks, adjusting his cuffs. “Since the Hunt that changed everything.”
“A year,” I echo, the weight of it settling over me. “Julian found you during the hunt, and Victor...” I can’t help the small smile that forms. “Victor was still desperately trying to convince himself he was straight.”
Elliot laughs softly. “At least Victor was honest with himself about his denial. I was still lying to myself even as I rode Julian’s cock in front of everyone at the feast.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “You seemed pretty into it from where I was standing.”
Elliot’s expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering across his features. “Physically, yes. God, yes. But in my head?” He taps his temple. “I kept telling myself it was just the Hunt. Just the magic of Purgatory making me do things I wouldn’t normally do.”
“The convenient excuse,” I nod, understanding completely.
“I kept thinking, ‘This doesn’t count. This is just what happens here.’ Even with Julian inside me, even with everyone watching...” Elliot shakes his head, his reflection multiplying the gesture across the mirrored walls. “I was calculating how to explain it away the next morning.”
I lean back against the cool mirror behind us. “And look at you now.”
“Look at us now,” Elliot corrects, a genuine smile warming his face.
“It’s a shame Victor and I didn’t get to experience the fun of it together last year,” I say, the regret genuine in my voice.
“The Hunt has a way of accelerating things,” Elliot agrees. “Seventy-two hours here equals months of real-world progress.”
I let my fingers trace patterns on the velvet bench. “Victor would have fought it anyway. He needed to come to terms with himself in private. The Hunt might have just traumatized him more.”
Elliot nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. Sometimes the path needs to be walked slowly. The Hunt strips away pretense, but not everyone’s ready for that kind of naked truth.”
“And now—” I begin, but I’m cut off by a sharp, pulsing tone that echoes through the room. Three rapid beeps, then silence.
The Hunt has officially begun.
My pulse quickens instantly. Elliot and I exchange a look, not needing words. We position ourselves on the velvet bench, ourpostures deliberately casual yet inviting. I adjust my silk shirt, leaving an extra button undone.