Captive Of The Ruthless Underground Boss

The rough fibers of the thick rope bit into June's wrists. She twisted her hands behind her back, scraping her skin against the bindings until warm blood slicked her palms. The cold concrete floor of the abandoned Brooklyn warehouse pressed against her cheek, smelling of motor oil and decay. Rocco's massive hand clamped down on the back of her head. He twisted his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back. A sharp cry tore from June's throat as her scalp burned. Directly in her line of sight, a pair of custom leather oxfords stepped into a puddle of dirty water. Drops of muddy liquid splashed against June's pale cheek. She forced her eyes up, her chest heaving as she struggled to pull air into her seized lungs. The tall man stood cloaked in the shadows of the warehouse. His presence sucked the oxygen from the room. Her breathing stopped completely. Gage lifted his hand. The cigar between his fingers glowed amber in the dim light. He gave a slight flick of his wrist. It was a silent command to Rocco. Rocco reached for the tripod. He adjusted the high-definition camera, pointing the lens directly at June's face. A small red indicator light blinked to life. June stared at that blinking red dot. Her stomach dropped. Bile rose in the back of her throat as the reality of what was about to happen crashed into her. She shook her head frantically, her voice a broken whisper begging them to stop. Gage exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. It drifted down toward her. His voice was a low, hollow rumble that bounced off the metal walls. He told her this was the price for her mother's sins. June opened her mouth. She tried to tell him that her mother did not care about her, that they had not spoken in months. The words crumbled on her tongue, her jaw trembling so violently she could not form a complete sentence. Gage did not even blink. He gave another dismissive wave of his hand. Rocco grabbed the collar of June's coat. He pulled his fist back and ripped the fabric downward. The sound of tearing cloth echoed in the empty space. The freezing night air hit June's exposed collarbone. A raw, desperate scream ripped from her lungs. Before she could take another breath, Rocco's fist slammed into her stomach. The impact drove all the air from her body. Her scream died instantly. She curled into a tight ball on the wet concrete, her vision spotting with black dots. Gage watched the scene unfold on the tablet in his hand, the high-definition feed capturing every flicker of terror on her face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His fingers tightened around his cigar for a fraction of a second, but his face quickly settled back into a mask of pure ice. He pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed a video call to Jessica Cole, turning his screen so the camera faced June's crumpled body on the floor. The call connected. The background noise of a luxury Manhattan hotel suite filtered through the speaker. Jessica Cole answered, her voice dripping with irritation. Gage did not waste a single breath on a greeting. He told Jessica Cole to cancel her upcoming high-society wedding immediately. If she refused, he would let his men finish what they started with her daughter on camera. June forced her heavy eyelids open. She looked at the small screen. She called out for her mother. Tears mixed with the dirt on her face, sliding into her mouth. She wanted to live. Jessica Cole looked at the screen. Her expression shifted for a brief second. Then, her eyes darted away, inspecting her freshly manicured nails. Jessica Cole's voice was flat and perfectly calm. She stated she would never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter. The line went dead. The dial tone echoed loudly in the warehouse. June stared at the black screen. The final shred of hope in her chest snapped. Her eyes went completely blank, staring at the concrete without seeing it. Gage's knuckles turned white around his phone. His jaw locked. The absolute coldness of the mother's rejection hit him, sending a spike of raw anger through his veins. But a man like him always had contingencies. He looked at Rocco, his voice dropping to a lethal octave. "I knew she was cold, but not that cold. Fine. Plan B. Send the edited clip to her fiancé's father. He's a man who values family reputation." Rocco looked up at Gage. His heavy hand still pressed down on June's shoulder. He waited for the next order. Gage threw his cigar onto the wet concrete. He crushed it under his leather heel. He barked an order to just beat her and get it on tape. June's brain could no longer process the terror. The physical pain and her mother's ultimate betrayal triggered a hard reset in her mind. The edges of the room began to blur. Rocco raised his fist. The air shifted as his arm swung down toward June's face. A pathetic whimper escaped June's lips. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body went entirely limp against the freezing floor. Rocco stopped his fist an inch from her nose. He looked back at Gage, his brow furrowed in confusion. Gage closed the distance between them. He kicked June's leg with the toe of his shoe. She did not move. Her breathing was shallow. He stared down at the blood dripping from her wrists and the deathly pallor of her face. A strange, heavy knot formed in his chest. He reached up and yanked his tie loose. He ordered Rocco to turn off the camera. He told him to throw the woman into his private hospital. Rocco bent down and hoisted June over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. Gage took one last look at the blood smeared on the concrete. He turned and walked out of the warehouse toward the waiting black SUV. Rocco carried June out into the freezing wind. He walked toward the vehicle, Gage pulling the heavy door open to the darkness inside.