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Deep in the desolate outskirts of rural Illinois, far from any prying eyes or passing patrols, Detective Riley Harper stands on the cold, cracked concrete of an abandoned grain silo, truly in the middle of nowhere.
Her body ached with fresh bruises blooming across her ribs, face, and arms from the initial ambush and rough transport. Rope bound her wrists tightly behind her back, ankles lashed together, rendering her utterly helpless.
The Chicago Outfit's thugs, six hardened men with scarred knuckles and emotionless stares, formed a loose circle around her under the harsh glow of a dangling work light. No warehouse luxury here; just endless fields of dead corn stalks whispering in the wind outside, miles from help.
"You thought you were smarter than us, didn't ya, detective?" the leader sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Her arrogance in busting their protected gambling ring, ignoring the captain's warning, had led her here, isolated, bruised, surrounded, and at their mercy. As fists rose again, she knew rescue wasn't coming. This was retribution, pure and final.
