Chapter 2

Just then, a call came in for Scarface.

"Rest assured," he replied. "We've already 'taken care' of things exactly as you instructed. I guarantee Mr. Whitethorn will never see through it."

After hanging up, they dragged me out of the van like I was roadkill. My hands and feet were secured tightly together with rope, and I was then tied to the rear bumper of the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

Seeing the empty stretch of highway in front of me, a chill ran down my spine. "It's against the law to kill people!"

"To hell with the law!" Scarface snarled, kicking me squarely in the chest. "We're getting paid to do a job. Even God himself couldn't stop me now."

Amid the searing pain, my eyes caught the familiar tattoo of a black dragon on his arm, and a spark of hope ignited inside me.

That was the symbol that I'd designed for Dad's underground organization, the Blackscale Syndicate, when I was eight years old.

The Whitethorns' empire was massive, stretching across the globe and crossing both sides of the law, and the Blackscale Syndicate was in charge of handling the dirty, messy work behind the scenes.

"You're with the Blackscale Syndicate!" I exclaimed.

"Well, well, well, this chick knows her stuff. You even know about us Blackscales, huh?"

"I'm Rosalie, Dominic Whitethorn's daughter. Your leader, Whitefang, is my personal bodyguard. That symbol? I was the one who drew it. Now untie me, and I'll spare your lives!

"Otherwise, you won't be able to handle the Whitethorns' wrath."

The burly men froze for a second, then erupted into raucous laughter.

"You're nuts! Mr. Whitethorn's beloved daughter is Ms. Rosalie Whitethorn. She's as priceless as the moon in the sky. Who the hell are you to impersonate her?"

"I am Rosalie Whitethorn!"

"Aren't you fucking Emilie Holloway?" Scarface spat, looking at me as if I were an idiot. "Still trying to lie to me when you're on death's door? You must have gotten tired of breathing!"

I understood that, at their level, they never had the standing to meet me in person. All they knew was that the Blackscale Syndicate had a "princess" whom they absolutely couldn't afford to offend. And everything I had on me that could prove my identity had been destroyed by Kate.

I never imagined that the members of the Blackscale Syndicate would be this fanatically loyal to an outsider. It seemed that Whitefang was getting far too lax in his management.

I stared Scarface right in the eyes. "Whitefang, the leader of the Blackscale Syndicate… His real name is Joshua Whitethorn."

The smile on Scarface's face froze instantly.

The leader's true name was the highest-level secret known only to the elders. Scarface himself had only discovered this out of sheer luck after taking a bullet for Joshua once.

"Give me your phone," I said coldly.

"If you're lying to me, you're dead," he snarled, before handing the phone over hesitantly.

The air inside the van grew suffocatingly tense. Everyone held their breath.

I dialed the number that had been etched into my very bones.

It rang for a long time. Just before it was about to go to voicemail, someone finally picked up.

"Dad, it's me, Rosie! The Holloways abducted me! I'm on Kingspire Highway right now. Come save me, quick!" I yelled.

"Hello?"

But there was only dead silence on the other end of the line.

"Dad?"

A woman's voice, babbling in Jetulian, came through, and I froze. Why was our Jetulian maid answering Dad's phone?

Scarface snatched the phone from me, his expression contorted with fury.

"You bitch! How dare you play us!"

I struggled desperately. "I didn't! My dad really is Dominic Whitethorn—"

He grabbed me by the hair and slapped me repeatedly. Stars exploded before my eyes, and my mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

The rough asphalt road scraped and ground against my back and legs like a giant file. Large patches of my skin tore open and peeled away, leaving behind a horrifying trail of blood.

"Let me go! I'll die if you keep going!" I screamed. "You dare treat me like this? Dominic and Joshua will tear you all into a thousand pieces!"

The van screeched to a halt, and the immense inertia flung me forward like a broken, bloody ragdoll.

Scarface crouched, looming over me. "You're still talking back? It looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet!"