Doris Elizabeth Corday

As soon as King and I shook hands, he let go slowly, his fingers lingering against mine just a second too long. I was tempted to take one of his rings but knew better.

His eyes glinted with a knowing amusement, a silent reminder of the last time I'd tried to steal from him. I had learned my lesson back then. He was the only person who had ever caught me in the act.

And the memory of his retribution still made the back of my neck burn.

"Since you managed to contact your friend, I assume you got your hands on a phone," he said, watching me with that sly, unsettling grin.

I shrugged.

"It wasn't too hard."

His smirk deepened as he held out his hand.

"Hand it over. I'll add my number," he said. "Not that I expect you to use it. But if you're in a life-or-death scenario, don't hesitate."

With a sigh, I placed the phone in his hand. He typed swiftly, his thumb gliding over the screen, then handed it back.

"You better pick up if I call," I said with narrowed eyes. "I wouldn't bother unless I was dying."

"Wouldn't dream of ignoring you, Beth Baby," he drawled sweetly.

I glanced at the clock, realizing I should probably get back to the resort before Mr. Illion wakes up. I ordered another taxi and went to my bedroom, pushing my packed bags back into the closet. They'd have to wait a bit longer.

When I returned to the living room, King was holding the thick brown envelope Rico had brought for me. His mouth curled into a smile as he sifted through the documents.

"Oh, this is rich," he said as he held up the fake passport. "A new identity. You really thought you could slip away, didn't you?" He laughed, shaking his head as he read the name. "Liza Dove? Really? Couldn't you have picked something better?"

I clenched my jaw.

"I didn't choose it," I mumbled, reaching out to take the documents back. But he lifted them just out of reach, his grin widening as he watched me.

"Don't worry, you'll still get your shot at freedom," he taunted. "You do your part in this, and the police could easily turn this little fantasy into reality. The legal way. You'll get your clean slate and your new name." He held the documents out with a mocking bow. "You'll be free, Miss Dove. Isn't that what you wanted?"

I shot him a glare as I slipped the documents back into the envelope.

"It's either this or death," I retorted. "And my chances aren't looking great."

I tucked the envelope into the couch, where my last bag of money remained.

"There's an option worse than death," King said, his tone dark.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled a few bills from the stack and tucked them into my bra — the one place I was sure Mr. Illion wouldn't dare look. Having some cash on hand wouldn't hurt.

"And what would that be?" I scoffed.

I looked up to find King watching me, his expression uncharacteristically grim.

"Falling for Rob B. Illion," he said, dead serious.

A hollow laugh escaped me.

"Not a chance."

He pushed his hands into his pockets, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke.

"I'm only warning you," he said. "If you ever feel tempted to join the devil, just know that you'll be stuck in hell."

I crossed my arms, raising a brow.

"What makes you say that?"

"I've worked for Alistair for seven years. If there's one thing I've learned about these crime bosses, it's that they like to own everything in their life. And you'd be no different. You'll never be his equal or his lover. You'll just be his."

My mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Aren't most men like that?"

"I'm not," he said quietly, surprising me. "If it were me, I'd make you my queen."

The intensity in his gaze made my pulse falter. He wasn't smiling, wasn't joking.

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling the weight of his stare as I headed for the door.

"I'll keep it in mind..." I muttered. "Let's just hope the next time you hear of me, it's not my death certificate."

King didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, unwavering, and something in it made me pause.

"You won't die."

"And who will save me?" I asked with a sad smile. "Everyone's too busy using me."

I walked out the door and King followed with the bags of money in hand, stopping just outside as I picked my apartment, locking it again.

"When your mom left you with her crap..." His voice softened as he raked a hand through his messy, tied-back hair. "Who lowered the interest on your debt? I paid it out of my pocket, y'know. You love to paint me as the bad guy, but I'm probably the only one who's had your back with nothing to gain."

I scoffed at that.

"You've always had ulterior motives," I said. "I saw the way you looked at me all these years."

He smiled, his eyes trailing over my body as though proving my point.

"But I behaved, didn't I?" he asked sweetly. "I never did more than watch."

I glared, but I couldn't argue.

He was right.

I never expected a thug to keep their distance, but King did. Then again, if he really was a cop, that would be the bare minimum, right?

"Don't screw it up now," I warned.

He chuckled.

"I play a patient game, Beth Baby," he teased. "But I always got my eyes on the prize."

I shoved past him, giving King only a brief push.

"You'll be playing on your own," I said as a goodbye. "I've got my hands full already."

As I walked into the street, the realization of what I was heading back toward weighed down on me, heavier than the night air.

The brief hours I had believed I was away from Mr. Illion's grip now felt like a cruel joke.

I had been so close yet so far from getting what I wanted.

For years, I thought as soon as I paid King, all my troubles would be gone. And yet look at the situation I was in. I paid him, yeah, but I picked up an even bigger debt in the process.

All I really managed was trading one devil for another.

I slipped into the back of the taxi, my body melting into the seat as the car drove off. The city lights blurred outside, a cold comfort as my apartment grew distant. A knot twisted in my stomach, a deep sense of foreboding gnawing at me from the inside.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the feeling, but it wouldn't leave.

There really was no escape from this. Not even the police could save me. The only person I could rely on was myself.

And if I wanted to live, I'd have to put everything I had into this.

I'd have to play the game of my life.

Or die trying.

The hum of the taxi engine lulled me into a fragile sense of calm, my mind drifting on the edge of exhaustion.

But just before I could fall asleep, a flash of light exploded in the rearview mirror, jolting me awake.

My heart skipped a beat.

I blinked, disoriented.

Headlights appeared behind us. One, two, three. A whole convoy of black SUVs closed in on us.

The taxi driver's hands tightened around the wheel, his knuckles turning pale.

"What the hell is this?" the old man stammered.

I didn't need an answer.

I already knew.

"It's him..."

The words barely left my lips as my fingers instinctively traced the velvet of my choker.

How did he find me so quickly? How was he awake already?

Rob B. Illion... He probably thought I was running. That I betrayed him. He wasn't exactly wrong, but the situation had changed. I clutched the seat, my breath coming faster, the dread turning my stomach upside down.

Would I live long enough to convince him of my lie?

"Just keep driving," I said, but it came out too weak, too vulnerable.

The taxi swerved, the SUVs not giving an inch as it flanked us on both sides.

"Oh, God..." The driver's voice cracked as he pulled the wheel to the side, trying desperately to shake them off.

"No!" I warned, my voice sharper now, but it didn't matter.

The taxi's tires screamed against the road as we veered wildly, but the SUVs mirrored every move, tightening their grip around us. Until there was no escape.

With a sickening lurch, the driver slammed the brakes, and I was thrown violently against the door. The quiet hum of the engine was drowned by the harsh scrape of metal on metal. The convoy had us completely boxed in.

"I don't want any trouble!" the driver cried, his hands shaking, eyes wild.

The cab shuddered to a stop, and I watched with wide, horrified eyes as armed men rushed toward us. I barely had time to react before they swarmed the car — guns pointed directly at me.

Everything inside me screamed to run. To fight. To do anything.

But there was no point.

They had me.

The doors were torn open, and hands yanked me out of the car with brutal force. I kicked, I clawed, I screamed.

But they didn't care.

They dragged me across the road too fast for me to find my footing. The skin on my legs scraped raw as tears seared the corners of my eyes.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, but they didn't flinch.

"Stop struggling," one of them ordered. "No need to make your death painful."

My pulse raced, adrenaline kicking in.

But before I could even think of a way out, a hand clamped over my mouth, and a cloth pressed against my nose. The sharp, chemical scent invaded my lungs. I fought harder, even as my limbs turned numb, and the world began to blur around the edges.

Darkness crept in, the sound of my own heartbeat thundered in my ears.

The last thing I saw was one of the tinted SUV windows rolling down. Slicked back black hair... Pale skin... And dark eyes.

Rob B.Illion's gaze met mine, a look of cold boredom etched onto his face. It was as if he'd expected this outcome.

Darkness swallowed me whole and for the briefest moment...

I wished I wouldn't wake up from this.

***

When had any of my wishes come true?

My head throbbed with a blinding pain, and I struggled to focus through the haze. As the world sharpened, I became excruciatingly aware of the cold metal cuffs biting into my wrists and ankles, pinning me to a hard chair.

My mouth was dry, forced open by a gag that cut off any hope of speech. My pulse spiked as I took in the grim, echoing warehouse around me. Bare walls, harsh lights, and armed guards flanking the doors.

But it was the man standing a few feet away, watching me with an unreadable, chilling calm, who sent waves of fear through my veins.

Rob B. Illion.

His dark eyes bore into me, an unsettling mixture of disappointment and cruel detachment.

In his gloved hand, he held a gun, the polished metal catching the dim light. Every breath I took was shallow, desperate. As though it could be my last.

This was it.

I'd seen this setup before... The chair... The restraints... The guards... The gun...

I knew exactly how it ended for the others who had been in this very position.

Mr. Illion stepped forward, his polished shoes echoing ominously in the hollow space as he closed the distance between us. He didn't need to shout. His voice, low and steady, cut deeper than any scream.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out, Miss Corday?" he asked, each word deliberate, punctuated by his calculating gaze. "Did you really believe you could break our contract and just disappear?"

I jerked against the cuffs as I desperately tried to speak, to defend myself. But the gag stayed firmly in place, reducing my attempts to muffled, useless sounds.

Mr. Illion leaned in closer, his face inches from mine. I froze, the gun hanging casually in his hand like it meant nothing.

"I told you I don't keep any liabilities," he continued, each syllable icy and sharp. "And I don't give second chances. You mistook my patience for mercy. But I am not a merciful man, Miss Corday."

The air around us seemed to thicken, making each strained breath harder and harder to breathe. My eyes kept darting to his finger on the trigger, a bead of cold sweat sliding down my neck. I tried to beg, but it remained muffled behind my gag.

Would it even matter if I could speak?

There wasn't even a hint of light in Mr. Illion's eyes.

He looked so resigned, as though simply trudging through formalities before the inevitable.

"And now," he said, his voice low and intimate, "I have no choice but to kill you."

Panic exploded in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I strained against the cuffs, willing myself to break free, to get him to listen, to make him understand. Tears ran thick and hot down my cheeks, soaking my gag.

Finally, after a long, agonizing silence, Mr. Illion nodded to his secretary. A fresh wave of tears overtook me as Coy approached. His face remained impassive while he reached down and loosened the gag.

I gasped for air, my throat raw, heart pounding.

Forcing myself to speak before I was ready, the words came out raspy and raw.

"Che— Check— Check my pocket," I cried, feeling as though I was fighting for each syllable. "Please, check my pocket."

Mr. Illion's eyes narrowed, but he gave another nod to Coy. The blonde man searched me, pulling out the white card King had given me. Mr. Illion's gaze flicked to it, then back to me, the first sight of emotion warming onto his face.

Curiosity.

I swallowed, my mind racing to form the lie.

"I... I felt terrible for failing my mission at the club and getting arrested," I stammered. "So... I wanted to make up for it. But I was scared of failing again. So, I snuck out and did it without telling anyone. I was going to surprise you if I succeeded and keep quiet if I didn't... It was stupid, I know. But I only wanted to prove I was useful."

For a long, agonizing moment, he stared at me.

Then he straightened, taking the card from Coy and inspecting it. The silence was unbearable. I held my breath, praying he'd believe me.

Mr. Illion finished inspecting the card as he studied me again.

"This belongs to the King of Diamonds," he said. "Denis Kingston... The manager of Alistair's loan shark scheme. How did you manage to get it?"

"I... I'm not as useless as I look," I said, the lies forming in my head as I spilled them. "I met him at the club that night and he told me to meet him again if I ever came back there. So... I went there tonight and managed to swipe the card off him. I didn't find Jack so I couldn't get the other card..."

Mr. Illion's gaze lingered on me, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he considered my explanation. He seemed to revel in the control he held over the moment, a twisted satisfaction gleaming behind his calm exterior.

"You left without permission. You disobeyed direct orders," he said finally. "Yet you returned with something of value."

His eyes swept over me with a faint spark of approval, a look I thought I'd never see.

"Perhaps you aren't entirely useless, Miss Corday."

I held back a relieved whimper as I melted into the chair, the last of my strength dried up along with my tears.

"That leaves us with three cards left to steal," he said. "Just in time, too. Our research team has identified your next target."

I stayed completely still, every instinct warning me to keep quiet and not risk saying anything that might undo whatever fragile trust I'd managed to regain. The faintest nod was all I could manage.

He considered me again, like I was a spreadsheet.

"Despite your success tonight, don't ever try something like this again," Mr. Illion warned. "I already made arrangements to dispose of your body."

His words hit like a bucket of ice water, stealing the air from my lungs. The casual cruelty in his tone cut deeper than the threat itself. Whatever illusion of control or value I thought I had was just that...

An illusion.

To Rob B. Illion, I truly was disposable.

The bitter truth clawed at me, threatening to pull me under. A part of me wanted to crumble beneath the weight of it, to give up and accept that I was nothing. But a more stubborn part of me, one forged in spite and survival, refused to yield.

If he thought he could discard me, then I'd make him choke on that belief.

I'll complete this mission. I'll get the damn cards. I'll dig up every secret he's buried.

And I'll make sure I become someone he can't live without.

Because when the day comes that he realizes he needs me more than I need him, it'll be too late.

I'll steal his cold dead heart and break it myself.