Trapped By The Ruthless Mafia Boss

h was ove

ed through the narrow sewer pipe, the rough concrete scraping her raw knees. Above her, the grate of a manhole cover rattled as

imy floor, holding her breath until her lungs bu

ndred in the suffocating dark,

gh her arm. Finally, she saw it-a rusted ladder leading up to another manhole, this one

Cold night air, clean and sharp, rushed in. I

ting ground, and she was the prey. She stayed in the shadows, her eyes scanning every corner, every doorway. She moved like a ghost, using

ered steel door set below street level. It was a place she never wanted to see again.

amming it shut behind her and sliding all three deadbolts into place. The metal

finally giving in to the exhaustion and the pain. Her bre

mirror, a stranger stared back. A pale, gaunt creature with wild eyes, a bloody g

e cut away the blood-soaked fabric. The sight of the wound made her stomach he

ords echoed in her head. Lock down every undergr

s only o

swallow. The alcohol seared a path down her throat. Then, she took a deep breath, stuffed a corn

eclipsed everything else. A muffled scream tore from her throat, absorbed by th

n the small piece of metal finally clattered into the sink, she was drenched in sweat, trembling violently. She pa

ed mattress in the corner, her bod

d in a feveris

ousness, her world shrinking to the throbbing pain in her shoulder and the gnawing hunger in her s

cramp in her gut. She staggered to the small, ancient refrigerator and opened i

forever. She had to erase

rt-and stuffed them into a metal trash can. She added the last of the gasoline fro

cross her face, illuminating her hollow cheeks and the grim determination in her eyes

buzzing vibration s

e from under the mattress. The burner phone. A cheap, dis

o

out. The screen glowed with a name:

nswering was a bigger one. Ignoring a call from Sasha was a fa

her thumb leaving a

through the tiny speaker, sharp and furious. "I've been

whisper. She tried to inject a note of pathetic wea

plague," Sasha snapped. "He's back.

as she gripped the phone. Geoffrey. The owner. The man who pulled the strings of her life with invisib

, urgent hiss. "He wants everyone here. Tonigh

e desperation in her voice real. "I'm

ce? You don't show up tonight, Jasmine, and Geoffrey will send someone to

of. She knew the cold, quiet cruelty that lay behind his charming, philanthropic smile. Draw

ut on the mask, play the part, a

spered, the words tastin

rom her numb fingers. She was trapped. Caught between a hunter

der, at the crude dressing of gauze and duct tape. The uniform at The Onyx Club was a ti

anyone at that club saw it, they wouldn't ask

aster would come t