Joseph hunkered down at his desk, the video on loop like a bad habit he couldn't kick. There she was—Gina, on her knees, crawling and head-butting the pavement, just like he'd ordered, all the way to Zoe's doorstep.
He watched her nail every brutal step of his script, but his chest lit up with a million tiny stings anyway.
Fury, though? That bulldozed right over the ache, no questions asked.
One thing looped in his skull louder than the footage: Who the hell was the wolf who'd scooped her up and vanished?
His assistant lingered nearby, picking up on the arctic chill rolling off Joseph in waves—guy looked like he was about to puke from the tension.
The clip had cycled two dozen times easy, but Joseph hammered replay like it owed him answers...
Every run? Cut short right as the mob dog
