She Came on Fifty Motorcycles A Billionaire's Daughter Unleashed

Her forehead was scraped raw from pressing it against the floor, a bright red mark spreading across the skin.

Watching her kneel there, begging those animals, made my eyes burn.

I grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, then backhanded her across the face.

She froze.

"Mila Pruitt, you stand the hell up straight."

"You kneel to these animals one more time and we're done. I mean it."

She bit her lip. Tears rolled down in long, unbroken strings.

Footsteps flooded the corridor, dense and closing fast.

Combat boots thudded against the carpet.

Over a hundred elite security guards, scrambled from the corporation's local headquarters, sealed off the entire top floor.

The fire doors at the stairwell were locked from the outside. The elevators were set to exit only.

My crew was boxed in the hallway, a wall of black uniforms on both ends.

No way out.

Lucas Perry didn't rush. He just sat on the couch, watching me.

Muffled thuds echoed from the corridor. My guys, dropped one by one with stun batons.

Screams, back to back.

Less than two minutes and the hallway went dead silent.

A security captain walked in, blood on his boots, and gave Perry a nod.

"Mr. Perry, everyone outside has been neutralized."

Perry nodded, satisfied.

He stood and strolled over to me, taking his time.

"Little street punk. Little, little street punk."

He sighed.

"You really thought you could grab some guys, bust in here swinging, and that would fix things?"

"In this city, how much do you think fists are worth?"

"Capital. Legal teams. Media. Networks. You haven't even heard of half the things that could grind you into nothing. Any single one of them would do."

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and bounced it in his palm.

Smack.

Ten thousand dollars, hurled straight into my face.

The bills fanned out and scattered across the floor.

Zane Lambert sidled over, crouched down, and slapped his knee, laughing.

"Ha ha Haha! Mr. Perry, that's generous! Put a price tag on the little street punk!"

Perry looked down at me, voice quiet.

"Kneel."

"Lick the spilled wine off the floor."

"Then have your little friend there finish taking care of our two executives."

He tilted his head toward Mila, trembling in the corner, then turned back to me.

"Do that, and I let this go. You take your people and get out. Tonight never happened."

He stepped forward, bent down, his mouth almost touching my ear.

"Refuse."

"And both of you disappear from this world tonight."

"Fifty million in debt. I'll hang it on your families."

"Your mom with her little flea-market booth. Your uncle pedaling his delivery bike. Think they can handle that kind of weight?"

He straightened up and adjusted his cuffs.

I didn't say a word.

I stood there, head down, staring at the hundred-dollar bills scattered around my feet.

Mila moved.

While every eye in the room was locked on me, she bent down and picked up a triangular shard of glass left on the carpet from the shattered coffee table.

She pressed the point against her own throat.

She wasn't crying anymore.

"Suse... just go."

Her voice was barely there. Completely calm.

"You can't take me with you. Go. The penalty is mine to carry... just leave me alone..."

The sharp tip had already broken the skin. A thin line of blood trickled down.

I kicked the glass out of her hand.

She froze.

I crouched down and wiped the blood seeping from her wrist with my sleeve.

Then I stood up and turned around.

Bills lay scattered across the floor beneath my feet.

In front of me stood Lucas Perry, smug as ever, and Zane Lambert with that sleazy grin plastered across his face.

Out in the corridor, every last one of my crew had been dropped to the ground.

I drew in a breath.

Then I threw my head back and laughed.

Lucas's eyelid twitched. He took half a step back.

Zane's grin froze mid-smirk.

Even the security guards tightened their grip on their stun batons.

I laughed until I was done, then raised my hand and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes.

Then I pulled out my phone.

"Zane, Zane, Zane."

"You didn't actually think I was just some street punk scraping by on handouts, did you?"