Page 81 of Black Heart

The stinging bite of the cables, the acrid smell of hot metal, the hellish red glow—it all crashes into me with a sudden, sickening clarity. This is real. I’m not in control.

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin as my heart rate skyrockets. I twist against my bonds, desperately trying to free myself, but it only makes the cables cut deeper, turning my struggles into a mockery of my earlier writhing.

With a sense of creeping dread, I crane my neck to look at my captor.

He steps into the red light, revealing a face I hate all too well.

Emmitt Dawson.

“Surprise,” he drawls, beady eyes gleaming. “Bet you didn’t see this coming, did you?”

“Dawson?” I rasp out, my throat dry and an awful taste scraping against my tongue. “What ... what are you doing?”

He laughs, continuing to circle me. “Did you really believe you could interfere with my plans and get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out about your pathetic attempt at corporate espionage?”

Dawson smirks, clearly relishing my confusion and fear. “Oh Layla, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. To see you helpless and at my mercy, after all the trouble you’ve caused.”

He pulls a small glass vial from his suit jacket, the liquid inside glinting as he shakes it. “A powerful sedative, courtesy of my associates. One little prick and you were out like a light, allowing me to arrange this delightful tableau.”

My stomach turns as hazy memories surface. I was one button away from dismantling Morelli’s AI tech forever, untilthe lights went out, a hand came over my mouth, and there was a sting in my neck…

How could I have been so careless, so blind?

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.

He leans in close, his acrid breath washing over my face. “You never even felt it, did you? Too caught up in your ridiculous fantasies about the Scythe having your back. Yes, we know he’s with you. Well, I have news for you, sweetheart. He’s not coming to your rescue. No one is.”

It takes all my mental energy to ignore the awful fluttering of panic in my chest and keep the conversation going so he can’t do worse things to me.

“Why would you work for the Mafia? You’re the son of a millionaire. You made this company a success. You don’t need Morelli.”

“You’re such a dumb cunt.Fuck, it feels so good to say what I really want to you without all that HR bullshit. You have no idea how the real world works, Lay. Money and power are the only things that matter. And the Mafia? It has both.”

“Morelli’s dying. Did you know that? You’ve chained yourself to a man whose empire won’t survive without him.”

Dawson grips my chin, forcing me to meet his cold, dead eyes. “Who said I was working with Morelli?”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Dawson’s nails cut into my cheeks, forcing my lips to purse and saliva to overflow.

“That’s right. Get your mouth nice and lubed for me, bitch. Morelli isn’t at the top anymore. You fucking whore, you really thought you could stop me? That your stupid little cyber tricks could take down an operation a decade in the making?”

He releases my face with a cruel shove, making me swing in my bonds. The movement sends shock waves of pain radiating through my strained shoulders.

“Morelli’s time is almost up, but his legacy? That lives on.And I’m going to help carry it forward into a glorious new era. With that AI tech, we’ll have the world’s governments, militaries, corporations, all dancing to our tune.”

“You’re insane,” I choke out.

Dawson rakes his gaze over my naked, bound form. “Not to worry, baby. You’ll be lucky if I let you live long enough to witness it. But I do get to take my time with you while the auction goes on upstairs.”

Dawson reaches for his belt buckle with a leering grin. “When I’m done, maybe I’ll let Morelli have a go at whatever’s left. Give the geezer a proper farewell.”

I wrench my mouth open to scream. The pain is too real, Dawson’s sour scent too pungent. This is my reality now. Betrayed, alone, and about to be brutalized in the cruelest way imaginable.

Just as Dawson frees his dick, the server room doors explode inward with a deafening bang. Shards of metal and plastic rain down, sparks flying from destroyed circuitry.

Through the smoke and debris, a figure emerges, clad in sleek black tactical gear, a matte onyx mask obscuring his features. Twin green slits blaze with unholy fury as the Scythe stalks forward.

Dawson stumbles back, his small, thick dick bobbing. “Fuck me. The Scythe himself. Guess I should be flattered.”

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