Page 55 of Captured Heart

Turner? Is that his real name? Who the hell is this guy? And how did I allow him to get so close to me without asking any real questions?

Victor’s gaze flickers back to Alex, then to me. “Huh. Interesting.”

The way he says it makes my skin crawl.

I can barely process their exchange. My thoughts are a whirlpool of confusion and pain. Alex...John...Turner...(whoever the hell he is) was in this all along. He played me, used me. When he said he wanted a big payout, I thought he was trying to con me for money because my dad was rich. I thought it was one of those silly romance scams, like theTinder Swindler. Notthis.

“You told me you wanted to avoid going back to prison. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Backto prison? He was in jail?! As more of these details come to light, I realize how much danger I was in. I literally had an ex-convict in my house. And I was tossing popcorn at him like it was some kind of joke. No wonder he never fricken smiles. He’s a hardened criminal. And that little detail makes me realize how much danger I’m in right now.

“Job’s not done until it’s done, Vic,” Alex replies. “I didn’t waste almost two weeks on this shit just to get half my cut, all because you decided to pull the plug early. I want my money.”

Hearing that knocks the wind out of me. Literally. Air rushes out of me as if someone just punched me in the stomach. It’s such a clinical response, devoid of any feeling. Everything that happened between us was all one-sided. I was just a prop to him, something he had to work around to get the job done.

“I don’t know what’s more admirable.” Victor grins as if he’s proud. “Your loyalty to me or your commitment to the job. It’s precisely why I sought you out for this. But if you want the rest of your cut, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Alex nods, not even questioning whatfinishingthe job will entail.

Victor steps closer, and the room feels smaller as he dominates the space. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the bruise on my cheek with a surprising gentleness. “Who did this to you?”

I flinch but don’t move away. Fear holds me in place.

“The rookie,” the bulky, scary looking one answers.

Victor hums, a low sound that sends another shiver down my spine. His fingers linger for a moment, and then he steps back. “He obviously doesn’t understand how precious you are, how everything I’ve built is riding on you now.”

Without warning, he pulls a gun from his waistband. The metallic click makes my stomach turn over. The shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space.

A scream bursts out of me, loud and shrill, and I stumble back. The young boy lets out a strangled cry, the bullet narrowly missing him and ricocheting off the wall.

“Just know that I meant to miss.” Victor’s expression doesn’t change. “That was your last warning.” He looks at the boy like he’s nothing more than an insect under his shoe. “I’m going to say this once.No oneis allowed to touch her. Do you understand?”

He nods frantically, his face pale, his hands trembling.

“Smith, go back to the house. Tear it apart if you have to.”

“No, please!” The words are out before I can stop them. “That was my grandad’s house. The only things we have left of him are in that house. Please don’t—”

Victor waves away my concerns as if it’s of no importance to him, then turns his attention to Alex. “Time to earn the rest of your cut. You’re on duty. Make sure she never leaves your sight.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, striding out of the room with the same unnerving calm he walked in with.

The scary one hands Alex a key. “First corridor. All the way down. It was an employee rec room or something, so it has a bathroom. Take her there.”

Alex nods and steps forward, his hand clamping around my arm.

“Let go of me!” I yell, pulling back, but his grip tightens.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he mutters harshly before he turns to the young boy. “Rookie, get me some ice and a bottle of water.”

I see now why he’s always barking out orders, but being exposed to the environment that developed that habit only escalates the panic within me. I dig my heels into the ground, but it’s useless. He’s stronger, dragging me out of the room and down a long, dimly lit corridor.

The air feels humid here, thick with the faint tang of something metallic. The walls are stained, old, and crumbling in some places, and every step I take feels like I’m being led deeper into a place I’m not meant to leave.

We stop outside a room, and Alex forces the door open. It creaks loudly, like it hasn’t been used in years. The room itself is bare and uninviting. A single metal bedframe with a thin, gray mattress shoved into one corner and a dingy bathroom opposite it. Beside the bed is a small bedside table with an oil lamp and a box of matches sitting on the top.

Alex shoves me inside, slams the door shut behind us, and then I hear a distinct click as he locks it. The sound echoes, sharp and final, sealing my fate. He uncuffs me, but even though my hands are free, I’m still trapped. There’s no way to get out because this impenetrable force of a man doesn’t move an inch from the door. His broad shoulders block any chance of escape, a living barrier of muscle and intimidation.

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