September 21st.

This was the day Cassidy Montgomery had been counting down for months.

At eight-thirty sharp, the correctional officers finally clocked in. The inmates being released that day stood in a rigid line for the final, solemn oath of departure.

"I swear to love my country and uphold the Constitution. I will remember the lessons learned, cherish my freedom, abide by the law, and respect social morality. I will maintain self-respect, confidence, and independence, fulfill my responsibilities, and serve society. I shall never commit a crime again and will remain a law-abiding citizen!"

The recitation was rhythmic and forceful, filled with a desperate, hungry longing for a new beginning.

Once the ceremony concluded, Cassidy changed back into her own clothes. It was the final step of the processing. As the line thinned out, she rubbed her hands together, her skin prickling with electric excitement.

"Cassidy Montgomery, sentence served. Here are your papers. Sign here."

She fought to keep her hand steady, tracing her signature one stroke at a time. The officer tossed a plastic bag of her personal belongings onto the counter. "Go wait outside. You’ll be processed out with the rest of the group shortly."

The moments of waiting felt like an eternity. When the massive prison gates finally groaned open, a crowd of friends and family greeted the inmates with tearful embraces and warm, frantic questions. Some were even greeted with elaborate, almost comical "welcome home" rituals.

Cassidy stood on the fringes, watching the displays of affection with cold eyes. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, unfiltered air of freedom. The morning sun cast a soft, golden glow over her gaunt, hollowed-out face, lending her a haunting, fragile beauty.

She hadn't even begun to plot her next move when a group of men in black suits moved in with the speed and precision of a strike team. Before she could scream, a thick cloth was pressed over her mouth. She darted a desperate, pleading look at the crowd, but they were too absorbed in their own reunions to notice her being dragged away.

She was shoved into the back of a dark SUV. She thrashed, limbs flailing, muffled whimpers escaping behind the gag.

*Crack.*

A sharp, stinging slap whipped her head to the side.

"Keep moving like that and I'll choke the life out of you," a voice growled.

Cassidy froze, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the lethal-looking men surrounding her. The SUV sped away, weaving through traffic. They weren't saying a word, just driving, and for a moment, her panic subsided into a cold, clinical focus. She began to strategize, mapping out ways to escape.

The man sitting next to her let out a mocking laugh. "She’s actually quieted down." He reached out and ripped the tape from her mouth.

Cassidy’s features contorted in pain. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man gave his neck a casual, arrogant crack. "Nothing much. Just sending you out of New York."

"It’s Jonah Harrison, isn't it? Is he behind this?"

"Tsk. Keep it down," the man muttered, lazily digging into his ear with a pinky finger. "You know, our boss is being pretty merciful to you. If this were back in the day—"

"Ahem!"

A warning grunt from the front seat cut him off. The driver shot him a sharp look in the rearview mirror. Silence returned to the cabin. Cassidy’s mind raced. She’d assumed it was Jonah, but now she wasn't so sure. Jonah had been a pampered trust-fund brat; he didn't have the stomach for this kind of tactical kidnapping.

If it wasn't him, then who?

She mustered the courage to whisper, "Who is your boss?"

The man glanced at her sideways. "Do you have a death wish?"

A cold shiver of the unknown crawled up Cassidy's spine. She gripped her bag of belongings until her knuckles turned white.

Three hours later, the SUV screeched to a halt under a desolate highway overpass. The man snatched the bag from her, rifled through her identification, and tossed the bag back at her feet.

"Get out!"

Cassidy hesitated, staring at the bleak, industrial wasteland outside the window.

"What? Don't want to leave?" The man gave her a lecherous, up-and-down look. "Want me to arrange something else for you instead?"

"No. No, thank you."

As soon as her feet hit the asphalt, the SUV roared away, leaving her stranded in the middle of a filth-strewn lot.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why! Agh!"

Her outburst drew the attention of the local squatters living under the bridge. A group of transients leered at her, licking their lips as they began to close in.

"Get back! Stay away!"

Cassidy scrambled backward, but her foot caught on a jagged rock, and she sprawled hard into the dirt. The sting in her palms only intensified the terror burning in her chest. She let out a hysterical, jagged scream. "You filthy animals! Get away from me!"

The transients only looked more amused, their grins widening as they shuffled closer, muttering in voices she couldn't understand. Cassidy burst into jagged sobs, squeezing her eyes shut as the first hand reached for her.

*Thud.*

She snapped her eyes open. The man who had been reaching for her was now curled in a ball, gasping for air three meters away. A new group of men loomed over her.

"Cassidy Montgomery?"

She trembled, her voice a mere phantom. "...Yes."

"Our boss wants to see you."

The boss? Again? It was clear these men didn't work for the previous group. She felt like she was losing her mind.

"Who is he! Who the hell is it!"

"Look, either you walk with us willingly, or you stay here and play games with these hobos. Your choice."

Cassidy glanced at the leering figures in the shadows, sighed, and surrendered. "I'll go with you."

Two of them grabbed her by the arms, showing zero sympathy as they hauled her toward a waiting vehicle. Her spirit was shattered; her mind went blank. She stopped fighting.

She was being moved further away than she could have imagined—this time, by helicopter. After a four-hour flight, the chopper touched down at what appeared to be an abandoned industrial complex.

"Keep your eyes down! Don't look at what you aren't supposed to!"

Her escort delivered a brutal blow to the back of her head. Exhausted from a day without food, she crumpled to the concrete, her vision blurring into darkness.

One of the men kicked her leg in disgust. "Look at this. Now we have to drag her because she’s out cold."

He nudged her hard with his boot. "Wake up! Don't play dead, or I'll use you as a urinal!"

"Forget it. The boss needs her in one piece. Don't push it."

"So annoying." The man grunted and heaved her over his shoulder.

When Cassidy finally regained consciousness, she was lying on a plush carpet. She blinked, dazed, scanning the room. It looked like an interrogation cell—massive, cold, and devoid of furniture, save for a leather sofa.

She climbed to her feet, though every movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through her. The gravel from the underpass had dug deep into her palms, the wounds crusted with black, dried blood.

*Damn it, Cassidy. How did you end up this pathetic? You can't be this pathetic! There has to be a way out. There has to be!*

She gnashed her teeth, her grip tightening until her palms bled anew.

The heavy door creaked open.

"Flynn, get her wounds cleaned up."

A man walked in and sprawled across the sofa, his legs splayed in a gesture of pure, arrogant dominance.

"Romeo, is this the new 'merchandise'? She looks like a withered twig."

Cassidy glared at them, her voice trembling but sharp. "Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?"

"Miss, let's get those hands taken care of first, shall we?"

Flynn Marshall offered her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Cassidy had only one thought left: *as long as I'm alive, there’s a chance to crawl back to the top.*

Seeing she wasn't going to fight, Flynn began to scrub at her wounds. He wasn't gentle. Cassidy’s brow furrowed in agony, but she refused to make a sound.

"Ha. Got a bit of backbone, haven't you?"

"Enough. Clean her up, then get out and bring her something to eat."