They were already there before he got there.Edward Kale had been drinking and partying at The Monarch, an elite nightclub reserved for men like him—rich, powerful, and untouchable. Or at least, that’s what he thought. One moment he was sipping on whiskey, Grace draped over him in a sequined dress, and the next, hands had grabbed him, dragging him through the back of the club. He had fought, of course—he had money, influence—but his protests were drowned by the pounding bass of the music. No one saw him leave.By the time his head cleared, he found himself sitting on a cold metal chair, wrists bound behind him. The room was dimly lit, one single ceiling bulb swinging slightly, casting long, jagged shadows on the concrete walls. The air smelled like damp earth and motor oil, the kind of place where secrets were buried—literally.Men in dark biker helmets stood like statues around him, unmoving, faceless, armed. His pulse hammered in his
Last Updated : 2025-03-12 Read more