The Billionaire’s Intern novel Chapter 27

Somewhere underground. The room was cold, Stone walls. A single bulb hanging from rusted wire. Beckett was strapped to a steel chair, his wrists bound tight with barbed cable. Blood dripped from his nose, mouth, and a split above his brow. One eye was swollen shut. His shirt, once white, was soaked-sweat, blood, and whatever Ashcroft’s men had done to him. Across from him stood a man in black. Silent. Patient. Watching. A scalpel in one hand. A cigarette in the other. “You scream a lot,” the man finally said, tone almost bored. “But you’re not good at it. Sounds like a dying coyote.” Beckett tried to spit. His head barely lifted. His throat was shredded from hours of screaming...