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)
“Don’t.” Daisy’s grip tightened hard enough to pinch. “We’ll find each other. Get to the grotto. In the northwest section.”
“Which way is that?”
Daisy looked out into the darkness. There was no way to tell. “Just follow the green lanterns. If anything goes wrong… use your safeword and run to safety.”
She looked back at the ballroom, the interior light blazing from the windows like pockets into hell. She couldn’t see the grandfather clock anymore.
The hunters gathered inside the doors, a wall of dark suits and gleaming masks. Some paced like caged animals. Others stood perfectly still, their attention fixed on the tributes with an intensity that made Daisy’s skin crawl.
She spotted Hadrian among them, adjusting his cufflinks under his purple sleeves with casual arrogance. Then she saw Peter, lounging carelessly against a wall, sipping a cocktail. The doctor was in a cluster of men, his white mask glittering like his haunting blue eyes.
She searched for the man in the emerald suit, but didn’t see him in the crowd. Her heart raced. She should be looking at the path, finding a target, a place to hide. But she couldn’t turn away from the ballroom until she found him.
There. Her breath hitched the second his stormy grey stare found hers, far across the crowded room, standing apart from the others on the stairs.
He inclined his head, just slightly.
Daisy’s pulse throbbed in her throat, her wrists, the backs of her knees, and her chest.
Aunt Vanessa appeared, raising a slender glass of champagne and tapping the crystal with her ring. The murmurs silenced.
“My darlings.” Her words were tender, almost maternal. “Whatever your goals, whatever your fears, whatever you’re running toward or running from—may fortune forever favor you.”
Maggie moved to face her, enormous brown eyes bright with unshed tears. There was no time for speeches. No time for promises they might not be able to keep. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“Good luck,” Daisy echoed back.
Aunt V’s voice carried over the breeze like a song. “Let The Feast of the Fallen begin!”
A thunderous roar spilled from the ballroom as church bells chimed from a tower above. Daisy’s gaze shot toward the sky, but dark clouds made it impossible to see.
Persistent, heavy gongs rung, vibrating the air as tributes scattered. Someone bumped Daisy’s arm, knocking her back. Maggie’s hand slipped from hers. Then she was gone. So was Trisha—likely hiding in a tree somewhere like a praying mantis, prepared to rip the head off her first admirer.
Chaos exploded as tributes screamed and dispersed, shooting off the veranda into the shadows and mist.
Daisy froze. The incessant gonging of the pealing bells made it impossible to think.
Too afraid to blink, she touched her collarbone, but the locket wasn’t there. Her hand fluttered to her hair. Still there. Still safe. But she wasn’t.
Ten seconds.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
How much time did she have left? How long until—
The world fell suddenly into silence.
Deep. Resonant. It echoed across the grounds like a death knell as the world stopped spinning and her heart stopped beating.
Then they charged—
Chapter Fifteen
Run!
Like a mountain of ice cracking in half, the silence split with a creak, then an all-encompassing roar. A collective exhale, as if the ballroom itself had emptied its lungs.
Leather soles struck the stone in staggering percussion that rose to a roar as a herd of well-heeled animals flooded the veranda in an unstoppable stampede.
“Run!” someone screamed as chaos broke loose in an explosion of silk and pearls.
Daisy spun, bolted for the stairs. Her ankle twisted as the slick sole of her shoe slid over polished stone.
Men erupted from the ballroom in an endless, unholy thunder. Expelled from the earth like a geyser from hell.
Shoved and bumped, she instantly lost any sense of direction.
“Go!”
“Move!”
“Help—”
Wedging past bodies that bottlenecked the exit, Daisy jumped without thinking. Her heel struck the pebbled path, sinking and sliding, as her gown split with a brittle crack. Beads scattered like tiny glass teeth. Breadcrumbs for the wolves chasing them down.
Their deafening rolling roar clawed at her back. Daisy looked, eyes wide, heart pounding, and exploded into a run.
The screams melted into an ungodly stew of begging and battle cries.
She didn’t think. She ran. Hard and fast. Pumping her arms until her lungs burned.
Driven by an urgent need to reach safety, she ran without a plan. No idea where she was or what lay ahead.
Her heel caught again, and the world tilted. Gravel rushed toward her, and she thrust her hands out to protect her face. The shock of impact traveled up her wrists, into her shoulders as the wind knocked out of her lungs. The adrenaline pounding through her veins was a sharp anesthetic to the impact of pain.
Her palms, scraped from the wet stone, pushed her back up. Scrambling to her feet, tasting copper, she ran as fast as her legs could manage toward the trees.
Pain. The warm trickle of blood mixing with saliva. The fire in her lungs. None of it mattered. Her arms pumped harder. Relentless. Every breath plunging a white-hot poker down her throat.