Chapter 1 - The Ride Up
The black luxury sedan smelled of expensive leather and cold rain.
I sat rigidly in the back seat as Brooklyn faded into the glittering, untouchable skyline of Manhattan.
Miles Drummond remained completely silent across from me.
We pulled into a private underground garage beneath the tallest residential tower in the city.
Two heavily armed guards stepped aside as Miles escorted me to a glass elevator.
The biometric scanner read his fingerprint, and the doors slid shut.
We shot upward in silence until we reached the penthouse level.
The doors opened to reveal an apartment that looked like a modern fortress built of black marble and floor-to-ceiling glass.
In the center of the massive living room lay the dog.
He was a Neapolitan Mastiff, but his silver-gray coat was dull and his massive body was dangerously thin.
He did not lift his head when we walked in.
I dropped my mop bucket and slowly lowered myself to the cold marble floor.
The dog let out a ragged, shallow breath.
I did not reach out to pet him, because an animal in pain views a reaching hand as a threat.
Instead, I lay down on my side so my face was perfectly level with his.
I looked into his hopeless, amber eyes.
"Breathe," I whispered gently.
The Mastiff's ears twitched slightly.
"You don't have to fight anymore if you don't want to," I told him in a soft, steady voice.
The dog let out a heavy sigh, and for the first time in an entire month, he lifted his massive head.
He pushed his dry nose against my forehead, seeking comfort.
A deep, gravelly voice suddenly echoed from the dark corner of the room.
"Five experts told me he would be dead by morning."
I gasped and sat up quickly.
A man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that clung to a brutally muscular frame.
His jaw was sharp, and his dark eyes carried a terrifying intensity.
This was Jared Kensington.
"He just needed someone who understood what it feels like to give up," I said quietly.
Jared walked slowly toward me, stopping inches from where I sat on the floor.
"I know exactly who you are, Willa Thornton," Jared said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"And I know you are currently hiding from a man named Brendan."
My blood ran completely cold.
"How do you know that name?" I demanded, my hands shaking.
May you like
Jared crouched down, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
"Because Brendan sold you to my syndicate three hours ago to pay off a gambling debt, and you are never leaving this penthouse."
