By 9:00 AM the next morning, Toby Vance was playing video games in a sprawling VIP suite on the top floor of St. Jude’s, blissfully unaware that the two massive men in dark suits standing outside his door were Julian Thorne’s elite private security contractors.

Clara, on the other hand, was standi

The beam of the heavy flashlight swept over the concrete floor, stopping mere inches from the toe of Clara’s non-slip work shoe. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her phone to her chest so tightly her knuckles ached. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, loud enough she was certa

The boardroom was a portrait of utter chaos, frozen in the terrifying gravity of Julian Thorne’s wrath.

Arthur Pendelton blubbered incoherently as Vance and the police officers dragged him toward the doors, his expensive Italian leather shoes scuffing against the pristine floor. The remaining boar