He merely chuckled. “And my name is Marcus Ward. You’d do well to remember it. Now, excuse me. It’s almost time to tell the lucky women who won. See you soon, Ms. Snowden.”

He turned to leave, but then changed his mind and whispered, “Also, if you have any ideas of running, allow me to remind you of the ten kilometres of driveway you travelled to get to this gatehouse. Let me also remind you of the eight thousand acres that make up this estate, and the fact that if I don’t want you to leave, you won’t.”

And then, he did exactly what I wanted to do.

And left.

Chapter Three

“WE ALL NEED TO GO. RIGHT NOW,” I whispered into the ear of the closest blonde. About my age, she smelled as if she’d drowned herself in vanilla-laced strawberries. “Help me alert the rest, and we’ll use sheer numbers to get out of here.” I scanned the men congregating by the gatehouse after successfully testing every woman here.

Only ten of them. One hundred of us. The math worked in our favour if I could convince everyone to run.

“But why?” Her button nose wrinkled. “Why do we need to go?”

“They’re up to something.”

“Up to something?” Her faint concern bled into scorn. “Yeah, alright. So what you’re really saying is you’re trying to thin the crowd by removing at least enough of us so you’re one of the thirty who get the free spa weekend?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’d be driving myself back to London by now if I could steal the bus keys.”

“You’re so weird.” Rolling her eyes, she went to move away, but I grabbed her wrist.

“Listen to me. Something is off about all of this. We need to go.”

“The only thing that’s off is you.” Wrenching out of my grasp, she weaved through the crowd and vanished.

Ugh.

My headache pressed a little worse, and I did my best not to let stress get the better of me. I couldn’t afford to have vasovagal syncope—also known as a stress blackout that I’d apparently inherited ever since that fateful day when my parents accidentally killed themselves in the most horrific way possible.

“I just overheard what you said.” A willowy Asian girl with hair as black as mine sidled up to me. Keeping her gaze on the men in front, she whispered, “What makes you think something is wrong?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to see if she’d come to laugh at me or was genuine. Either way, it didn’t matter. “When I refused to give my blood, the man in charge figured out a way to take it anyway.”

“Why would he do that?” Another girl appeared, honey-brown hair with yellow highlights glinting like gold in the sun. “This is a spa retreat. Not some crazy conspiracy.”

“I don’t know why.” I shrugged, sandwiched between the two women. “But I do know we shouldn’t go in there. No one should go in there.”

“But what if we know what’s in there and don’t appreciate you ruining it for the rest of us?” The stunning black-haired girl suddenly turned to face me, trapping me against the other one. Leaning far too close, her lips grazed my ear. “What if most of us know exactly what we’re doing and the rest of you clueless idiots are just here to make up numbers?”

“What...what are you talking about?” I scrambled away, rubbing my arms as goosebumps erupted. “You actually know what all of this is?”

“Of course we do.” The two girls shared a look before breaking into mocking laughter. “We’ve been training for years for this opportunity.”

“Training?”

They nodded smugly. “Like we said. We know what’s in there. Who’s in there. And we’re not about to let you rile up the crowd and ruin it.”

“Ladies!” Marcus Ward’s voice cut through the garden, amplified by his microphone. “I’m happy to announce that we’ve finished compiling the lucky thirty. If you’d be so kind to stand to the side when your name is called, we’ll have you in a hot tub with a cocktail before sunset!”

A cheer went up as the women nudged and grinned at each other.

“Serena Voss.”

“Yay!” A pretty auburn-haired, curvy girl dashed through the crowd to stand alone to the left.

“Keira Holt.”

“OMG!” Another curvy blonde ran to join Serena.

“Nadia Waters.”

“Ahhhh!”

The list went on and on, followed by squeals of joy and impromptu dancing.

Turning away from the spectacle, I focused on the two girls still hemming me in as if ready to silence me if I started making a scene.

“What’s in there?” I asked quietly. “Who’s in there?”

The black-haired girl smirked. “That’s not any of your business. You were one of the lottery invites. The law of chance that maybe someone plucked off the street would be able to achieve what we’ve been groomed to do. But the likelihood of you getting in is zero.” She patted my shoulder. “So don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Lydia Swift.”

“Oh, that’s me. Would you look at that.” The girl with golden highlights smirked. Before leaving, she leaned in and whispered, “My suggestion is to keep your mouth shut, forget everything you think you saw today, and don’t be stupid.” Cupping my cheek, she dug her nails into my skin. “Because if you don’t. If you do something foolish like talk to someone. If you try to ruin this for us...someone will hunt you down and take your life.”

My mouth fell open at her threat.

How the hell had this day turned out like this?

“See ya ‘round.” She patted my cheek so hard it was almost a slap before weaving seductively through the crowd to join the selected others.

Marcus Ward kept reading names, but I locked eyes with the Asian girl next to me. “What the hell is going on in this place?”

“Guess you’ll never know.” She grinned. “And it’s probably for the best. He would eat you alive if you stepped one foot in there.”

“He?” I moved closer, thanks to someone jostling me. “Who’s he?”

I didn’t think she’d answer, but with an aura of smugness, she murmured, “Lucien Ashfall.”

That name.

It sounded almost familiar...

“What’s the selection of thirty women got to do with him?”

“Evelyn Ling,” Marcus Ward called out.

“Oh.” She flicked her glossy hair. “Surprise, surprise. That’s me.” Wriggling her fingers, she blew me a kiss. “Bye-bye, unchosen one.”

Without another word, she pushed past the pouting women slowly realising their chances of being picked were running out.

“Kia Brass.”

A short skinny girl squealed and joined the group.

I turned to go.

I’d been warned and threatened and...unlike others who had a body that didn’t blackout when stressed, I had no intention, nor the capacity, to fight this war.

Whatever was happening here. Whoever Lucien Ashfall was. I wanted nothing to do with it.

Hoisting up my backpack and glowering at the gravel rash on my palm, I arrowed toward the awaiting buses.

At least this time the sprinkler system didn’t activate, and I could leave with the seventy other women who’d been given the grace of escape.

But then, he called my name.

Chapter Four

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR MR. WARD CALLING you?” Two men appeared, cutting me off from my beeline to the bus.

My heart hammered. My headache grew worse. I used every trick in the book to keep my stress levels from crippling me.

Darting around them, I coughed. “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Someone else can have my spot—”

“Rook Snowden.” Marcus Ward’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Congratulations! You’re our lucky last.”

The two men grinned, each taking one of my arms. “The moment you’re settled into your private pavilion, the sooner you’ll feel better.” Guiding me kindly—even though we all knew it was straight-up coercion—they herded me to the left and deposited me with the group of chosen women.