I came to Chicago with my friend to visit her boyfriend. Three days in, her boyfriend said he'd show us "something fun." The car kept driving —farther and farther out. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were locked inside an abandoned factory. My friend was gone. Her boyfriend shoved me into a room and threw me a line: "Your friend sold you for twenty grand. Stay put and wait for arrangements." I scanned the room. A few men in black suits leaned against the doorway. Silver-gray pins on their chests. Shield-shaped. Dark red thorns. An inverted dagger. The family crest of Caleb Richardson -don of the New York mafia. I was held captive by him for three years. I barely escaped with my life — And now l've been handed right back to him.
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