Chapter 17
The bag was yanked from my head, harsh light stabbing my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to orient myself in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse–concrete floors, high ceilings with exposed beams, broken windows letting in strips of daylight.
“Like what you see?” That gravelly voice again, now coming from directly in front of me.
As my vision cleared, I gasped.
Hank stood before me, but not the Hank I remembered. His face remained a grotesque testament to Jules’s handiwork–one eye still swollen, lips misshapen from poorly healed splits. When he smiled, I could see gaps where teeth had been.
“Surprised?” He chuckled, the sound like broken glass in his throat. “Not exactly the handsome man you remember, am I?”
“Hank,” I whispered, testing the ropes binding me to the metal chair. “How–why-”
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“How am I here? Why am I doing this?” He circled me slowly, savoring my confusion. “You know, I spent days in a hospital after your boyfriend finished with me. Days where I couldn’t eat solid food, couldn’t speak without pain.” He leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. “But I had plenty of time to think about you, Monica.”
I turned away from his ruined face. “I warned you to stay away from me.”
Hank laughed, the sound echoing off the bare walls. “You did. And normally I would have listened.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “But then some very interesting people reached out to me. People who promised I could have my revenge on you and your psychotic boyfriend.”
“My parents,” I said, cutting through his gloating. “Where are they? Let them go. You have me
now.”
“Ah yes, your beloved parents.” Hank pulled out a phone, tapping the screen before holding it in front of my face. “See for yourself.”
The video showed my mother and father tied to chairs much like mine, in what appeared to be another room of the same building. My father’s face was bruised, blood trickling from his temple, while my mother sobbed quietly beside him.
“Please,” I begged, tears welling in my eyes. “Do whatever you want to me, but let them go. They have nothing to do with this.”
Hank’s damaged lips stretched into what might have been a smile. “That’s not up to me, Monica. Boss’s orders.”
“Boss?” I frowned, confusion momentarily overriding my fear. “What boss?”
“You’ll meet them soon enough.” He pocketed the phone. “But first, let me enjoy this moment You have no idea how good it feels to see you like this–helpless, afraid. The great Monica Wells reduced to begging.” He traced a finger along my jawline. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?” I jerked away from his touch. “If you have me, there’s no reason to keep them. Let my parents. go.”
“That’s not all, Monica.” Hank stepped back, his one good eye gleaming with malice. “You’re not
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the end goal. You’re the bait.”
“Bait? What are you-”
“Well, look who it is. The gold–digging bitch herself.”
That voice–sharp, feminine, dripping with disdain–made me stiffen. I twisted in my chair to see Vella sauntering toward me, Morris following close behind.
“Vella?” I gasped. “Morris? What is this?”
Vella circled my chair like a shark, her perfectly manicured nails trailing across my shoulders “This, my dear, is what we call a trap. And you’re the cheese.”
“Jules will never fall for this,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “He’s too smart.”
Morris laughed, the sound eerily similar to his brother’s yet somehow colder. “He’ll come running the moment he realizes you’re gone. Men in love make stupid decisions.”
“You’re wrong,” I insisted. “He’ll see right through this.”
Morris slammed his palms on the arms of my chair, bringing his face inches from mine. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this moment! Years of planning, years of watching him take everything that should have been mine!”
Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted, “You have no idea of the gravity of the situation! You don’t even know who you’re about to marry!”
I swallowed hard, maintaining eye contact despite my fear. “I know exactly who Jules is.”
Morris straightened, exchanging a knowing look with Vella before bursting into laughter. “Oh, do you? Tell me then, who is Jules Prime?”
“He’s…” I hesitated, piecing together everything I’d witnessed. “He’s involved in something illegal Some kind of criminal organization.”
Morris slammed his fist against a nearby table, the crack making me jump. “INVOLVED?” he roared. “INVOLVED?!”
He leaned in again, his eyes wild with a mixture of rage and triumph. “You’re dating Jules Prime, the god of the underworld! The mafia overlord everyone fears! The man whose name makes hardened criminals wet themselves!”
My mind reeled, struggling to process his words. I knew Jules was dangerous, had seen glimpses of his power, but this?
“That’s impossible,” I whispered. “If he were that powerful, that notorious-”
“Why do you think your father was so eager for you to marry him?” Morris cut in. “Bill Wells has been laundering money for the Prime family for decades.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. My father knew? Had arranged for me to marry a mafia boss?
Vella stepped forward, her smile vicious. “For years, Jules Prime had no weaknesses. No vulnerabilities. Nothing we could exploit to take him down.” She traced a finger down my cheek. “Until you came along.”
“He barely knows me,” I protested weakly.
Morris laughed again. “He’s been watching you for years, Monica. Those ‘coincidences‘ where he
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saved you? Not coincidences at all. He’s been obsessed with you since he first saw you at one of your father’s parties years ago.”
My head spun with this new information. Jules had been watching me? For years?
“You are his weakness, Monica,” Morris continued, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
‘And we’re going to take him down using you.”
