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Bound to the calloway's heir

Bound to the calloway's heir

In LA's Business world, Zane Calloway, thirty, turns cartel king after his father's gruesome murder, ruling The Atlas Group with a bloody fist. He learned how betrayal could ruin even the biggest empire and was hell bent on keeping Atlas Group. However when Sienna Carter, his new assistant got in the picture, he threw caution to the wind. To become the only one controlling the cartel, he would use Sienna who was a supposedly ghost from a dead cartel as bait for his enemies. Sienna Carter made his mission become even more complicated as she ignites a dangerous sparks in him. Twenty-five year old Sienna Carter just wanted to stay alive, running away from danger had been the only thing she was capable of since her family were murdered. All she had as a semblance of her old life was the locket her dying father had given her and when a new job pops up in Los Angeles, she gambled for it, hoping for her sake that it wouldn't lead her straight to the same hell she was running from. However, she would soon realize that the Atlas Groups was going to be more than just a survival decision but the key to everything.
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Chapter 17

ZANE I broke Sienna, and I broke her badly, too. The way she had looked at me after my questions sent a shiver down my spine. She had felt hurt deeply. But how was I to know it wasn't just a show? Just as she had been playing me since day one. "Dammmit!" I pulled my right hand into a fist and hit the bag. The heavy bag swayed under the force of my fist, the chain groaning as it absorbed the blow. I had been at this all morning, knowing I needed to ease the tension within me, and the gym was the best way to release the heat. My knuckles had started to sting from the relentless pounding, but I didn't stop. Each hit sent a jolt through my arm, sending my breath out in a sharp rush, matching the rhythm of my punches. I would switch the punching fist between my palms, making sure both were getting equal aim at the bag. The fight at the lounge replayed in my mind as I tried to process the fight from a viewer's perspective. Each time, I came to the conclusion that the men had stormed in targeting her and merely fought us off to get to her. We were never their target. Sienna was. I had orchestrated it, hoping they would come for me and my brothers, but though the plan had worked, the outcome wasn't what I had expected. I took another swing at the lurching bag, hitting harder this time. My company, which had enjoyed years of smooth operation, was now threatened by their relentless pursuit. They weren't after me or Atlas, they were after her. Why? What made Sienna Carter worth their time and their resources? The gang leader's words haunted me. It may have been a taunt for them to plant a seed of doubt between us and it had taken root. Was she playing me? Hiding something? Or was she just as lost in this mess as I was? I drove my fist into the bag again, the impact jarring my wrist, but it wasn't enough to drown out the questions. I had always trusted my instincts and that had built my empire and kept me alive. But with Sienna, they faltered. The bag took another hit, the chain rattling under my punch when my phone buzzed on the bench, cutting through my thoughts. I ripped off my gloves, the Velcro tearing loudly, and walked to the couch and picked up the phone. Damian's name lit up the screen. "Yeah?" I said, leaning against a pillar. "Zane, it's Noah. He's stable. Cleaned up, stitched, and on bed rest. Doc says he's out of danger, but he's down for a while," Damian replied. Relief hit me, sharp and fleeting, followed by a fresh wave of guilt. Noah had almost lost his life because of my plan. "Good," I said, my throat tight. "Anything else?" "Yeah." Damian's voice lowered, cautiously. "We have got the IT spy. He's in the bunker, right where you wanted him." My pulse quickened. "I'm on my way," I said. "Keep him locked down." "Zane," Damian added, hesitating. "What's the guy at the lounge saying some stuff about Sienna?" "Weird stuff. I don't know what to make of it yet." My grip tightened on the phone. "If you say so," Damian said, sounding very unconvinced. "Would be there soon," I said, and hung up. My mind raced, the leader's words echoing again. She's not what you think. The idea of Sienna working with them, playing me from the start, made my blood run cold. But the image of her broken expression, the way she had recoiled from my accusations, didn't fit. None of it fit. I needed answers, and I needed them now. I grabbed my jacket, the leather cool against my overheated skin, and headed for the hallway. As I passed the guest room, I slowed, my hand twitching toward the door. Sienna was there, probably awake, probably replaying our argument. I could still see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Part of me wanted to barge into the room and shake her until she spilled every secret so we would both be out of our misery. But I couldn't trust myself to stay calm, not with my head this screwed up. Instead, I walked on, heading to my room to get cleaned up. Thirty minutes afterward, I was ready to leave the house. I called out to Jason, her security detail, stationed at the end of the hall. "Keep her safe. No one in or out until I'm back." Jason nodded. "Understood, boss." I turned away, my boots heavy on the hardwood, and stepped out into the driveway. The cartel was all closing in, and I was running out of time to figure out who I could trust. ֍ I pulled up to the bunker, inches away from the door, and hesitated, holding both hands on the wheel. I wondered if I had made the right decision, leaving Sienna behind. She was going to be safe inside, under Jason's watchful eye, and for now, that was enough. Both cartels had taken heavy hits in yesterday's clash in the lounge and for a brief moment, the power balance had shifted. It gave me breathing room, but not much. The war wasn't over, and the traitor in my ranks was still bleeding my company dry. That IT spy was my next target, and I'd carve the truth out of him if I had to. I have always hated snitches. Betrayal was what birthed the dangerous side of me and whoever the spy was, his fate would be no different from Robert's. I stepped out and nodded to the guard at the door. He opened it without a word, and I strolled in. The bunker was my domain, a high-tech vault where I handled the most sensitive and complex aspects of my business. The torture room was down a concrete corridor, its walls soundproofed, its tools gleaming under intense fluorescent lights. I pushed open the door, my boots echoing, and took in the setup. I walked to the steel table, which held an array of equipment, including blades, pliers, blowtorches, and syringes filled with chemicals that could break a man's mind. The huge water tank sat in the corner. I spared no expense when it came to answers. Every tool was precise, designed to inflict maximum pain with minimum mess. I had learned from the best and perfected it. Damian stood nearby, arms crossed, his face unreadable. "He's been babbling," he said, nodding toward the guy. "Keeps saying he didn't have a choice." "Rookies love to blab," I laughed as I walked over to the center of the room. The spy was younger than I had expected; he was a nobody, but one who had cost me millions and put my people on the ground. "They always say that they don't have a choice," I muttered as I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it over a chair, and rolled up my sleeves. The guy's eyes widened, his breath hitching as I approached. Good. Fear was a great motivator. "Zane," he stammered, his voice cracking. "I didn't want to do it, I swear. They threatened my mother, said they would..." "Shut up," I snapped, leaning in close, my face inches from his. "You sold out my company. My people. Noah's in a hospital bed because of your leaks. So you're going to talk, and you're going to tell me everything. Or I'll make you wish you'd never been born." Adam's apple bobbed, and he nodded frantically. "Okay, okay! I'll tell you what I know!" "What's your real name and how did you get tangled up in this?" I straightened, my jaw tight, and glanced at the table. My fingers brushed over a pair of pliers, the metal cool against my skin. I haven't picked them up...not yet. I wanted him to feel the weight of what was coming. My mind was a tangle of rage and doubt, Sienna's face flashing again the way she had looked at me, like I'd betrayed her. Was she the real traitor? Or was this guy about to confirm my worst fears? I needed clarity, and I would rip it out of him if I had to. "Start with what you know about Sienna Carter," I said. "What's her connection to the Reyes Cartel?" His eyes darted to Damian, then back to me. "I am Raul Agadez. Robert recommended that I act as the IT rookie, so the cartel could gain access to Atlas's operations." "Dead and still haunting me with his betrayal" I shook my head, wishing I could kill Robert all over again. "Go ahead," I added, "I don't know much, I swear. I just overheard stuff. Rob was the direct link to them. They said she's important, as if she has something they need. Something big." "Like what?" I pressed, stepping closer. My shadow fell over him, and he shrank back. "I don't know! They didn't discuss details. Just that she is tied to Victor Rey. Not just a target, she is someone they know. Whatever she had on them is colossal," he said, breaking into a smile. "Think this is some comedy show, right?" Knowing he was merely playing along made my control slip. I grabbed his collar, yanking him forward, and the chair scraped against the floor. "Playing me how?" I growled. "What do they want with her?" "I don't know!" he wailed in panic. "They just said she's the key! Something about a deal, leverage, I don't..." I backhanded him, the sound sharp in the quiet. His head snapped to the side, blood trickling from his lip. "You're lying," I said, "You think you can hold out on me? You think I won't break you?" "I'm not lying!" he sobbed, "I swear, that's all I heard!" I turned to the table and picked up a roll of cellophane. His eyes followed me, widening with terror. "No, please," he whispered. "I'll tell you anything, just.." "You had your chance," I said, unrolling the plastic. I wrapped the cellophane around his head tightly, cutting off his air. His muffled screams vibrated against the plastic, his body thrashing against the restraints. "Talk," I said, but he couldn't. Not yet. I held it for ten seconds, watching his eyes bulge, his face reddening. Then I ripped it off, letting him gasp for air. "What does Rey want with her?" "I don't know," he gasped, tears streaming. I grabbed his head, my fingers digging into his skull, and dragged him to the water tank. The surface of the water rippled as I shoved his face under the cellophane back in place, sealing his screams. He thrashed, bubbles erupting, his body jerking against my grip. I held his head inside the water for minutes until his struggles grew weaker. While he struggled against my grip to no avail, all I could think of was getting my answers. I was no longer acting cool. They had unleashed the monster and there was no going back. A hand touched my shoulder, "Zane," Liam's voice cut through my raging thoughts, "Enough. You will kill him." I froze, loosening my grip on his neck. I hadn't even noticed Liam walking into the room. I glanced at Damian, who was clearly enjoying watching me torture the guy. I could see the faint lines of disappointment as he glared at Liam. The guy coughed and raised his head a little out of the water, but didn't move out of the tank. He couldn't. I stepped back, water dripping from my hands. I realized that it was Liam's voice and touch that had pulled me back from the abyss. I had let the rage take over. And for what? A few scraps of information, none of it clear enough to solve the puzzle. "Get him up," I said, turning away. I wiped my hands on my pants, the fabric clinging to my skin. Liam moved silently, hauling the guy back to a chair, checking his pulse. The guy was alive, barely, his breath a wet rattle. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. "Keep him alive," I said to Liam. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. I stepped out, the door slamming shut behind me.

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