Meanwhile, across the city, Joan slipped into her secret safe house.
She shut the door quickly, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding, and she knew it wouldn't be long before Don and Hassan came looking for her.
She locked the door, thinking she had at least a few hours to rest. But the moment she stepped into the dark living room, two strong arms grabbed her—one from each side.
The lights came on.
And there, sitting calmly on the edge of the sofa with one leg crossed, was Don Sylvester. He held a cigarette between his fingers and blew out smoke, his eyes steady.
"Welcome home," he said with a cold smile.
Joan tried to fight back, but before she could react, someone snapped a heavy metal collar around her neck.
Her eyes went wide.
No. Not this.
She hated that collar more than anything. The moment it locked around her neck, fear took over her whole body. Don Sylvester stayed calm on the couch, holding a small remote in his hand. Without saying a word, he pressed a button.
