The Maybach was dead silent. The heat blasted from the vents, but June could not stop shaking. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pressing herself into the corner of the leather seat.

Gage sat on the other side. He wrapped a white silk handkerchief around his bleeding forearm. His dark eyes never left June's face. He watched her shiver like a predator studying a wounded bird.

The car turned off the highway. It drove into a massive, private forest on Long Island. They passed through three separate, heavily guarded iron gates. The outside world disappeared completely.

The Maybach pulled up to a sprawling, Gothic-style stone estate. Its massive towers cast long, dark shadows over the driveway.

The driver parked. A bodyguard opened Gage's door and held an umbrella. Gage stepped out. He turned around, reached into the car, and grabbed June by the ankle. He yanked her forward.

June screamed as she fell out of the car. Her knees hit the wet marble steps. The cut on her hand tore open again. Blood mixed with the freezing rain and ran down her fingers.

Gage did not care. He grabbed the back of her wet coat collar. He dragged her up the steps and through the massive front doors like a dead weight.

The grand foyer was blindingly bright. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Two rows of maids and butlers stood against the walls, their heads bowed. No one dared to look up.

June kicked her legs. Her scuffed heels squeaked against the polished marble floor. She screamed for help, but her voice just echoed off the high, painted ceiling.

Gage laughed coldly. He dragged her toward a heavy wooden door that led to the basement. He told her she was going to live in the dark from now on.

June squeezed her eyes shut. She braced herself for the pain of being thrown down a flight of concrete stairs.

"Enough!"

An old, powerful voice cracked like a whip from the second-floor balcony.

Gage's hand froze on June's collar. A flash of pure irritation crossed his face. He stopped moving.

June scrambled backward, her hands slipping on the marble. She looked up toward the voice.

An elderly woman with perfectly styled silver hair stood at the top of the sweeping staircase. Beatrice Becker wore a dark, tailored suit. She leaned heavily on a cane topped with a massive ruby.

Beatrice looked down at the foyer. She saw June shivering on the floor, covered in mud and blood. The old woman's brow furrowed in deep disapproval.

June saw the disgust in the woman's eyes-not toward her, but toward Gage. She pushed herself up and ran to the bottom of the stairs. She fell to her knees right below Beatrice.

June grabbed the hem of Beatrice's skirt. She sobbed, her voice breaking as she begged the old woman to save her, swearing that Gage was going to kill her.

Gage took three long strides across the foyer. He reached for June, yelling at her to get her dirty hands off his grandmother.

Beatrice lifted her cane. She slammed the rubber tip down onto the marble floor. The loud thud echoed like a gunshot. Gage stopped instantly.

Beatrice glared at her grandson. She demanded to know if he was trying to turn the Becker family home into a mafia torture chamber.

Gage ground his teeth together. He pointed to his bloody arm. He told Beatrice the girl was a violent threat.

Beatrice looked down at June's bleeding hand and her blue lips. A complicated look of pity flashed in the old woman's eyes.

Beatrice unclasped the thick cashmere shawl from her own shoulders. She bent down and wrapped it tightly around June's shaking body.

The sudden warmth of the fabric broke June. She buried her face in the soft cashmere and sobbed uncontrollably.

Beatrice stood up straight. She ordered the head butler to prepare a warm guest room on the second floor immediately. She told him to call the family doctor.

Gage stepped forward, his fists clenched. He argued that this was his house and she was his prisoner.

Beatrice let out a cold laugh. She reminded Gage that until she was dead, she controlled the family trust, and she made the rules.

Two older maids hurried forward. They gently helped June to her feet and led her up the stairs toward the guest wing.

June reached the landing. She looked back over her shoulder. Gage stood in the center of the foyer. He looked like an enraged lion. His black eyes locked onto her, promising violence.

June followed the maids down the hall, leaving Gage standing below.

Gage stood in the foyer, staring at the spot where June had disappeared. He turned to his assistant. He gave a sharp, subtle nod. The assistant immediately stepped forward and told Beatrice there was a critical emergency with the offshore trust accounts.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious. But the trust was the lifeblood of the family. She pointed her cane at Gage. "Fine," she snapped, "but if I find you've laid a hand on her, the trust will be the least of your worries." She then signaled to her personal head of security, who remained behind, watching Gage with cold eyes, before turning and walking quickly toward her study for a video conference.

Gage watched her go. He shot a lethal glare at the head of security, a silent promise of destruction, before turning and deliberately walking in the opposite direction. The moment he was out of sight, a dark, dangerous smile spread across his face. He slipped through a hidden servant's passage, bypassing the guard completely, and headed up the stairs.

Inside the second-floor guest room, the air was warm. June had just stepped out of a hot shower. She wore an oversized white silk nightgown. She sat on the edge of the mattress while the family doctor wrapped a clean bandage around her hand.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The doctor's head snapped up. He heard the heavy tread and immediately threw his supplies into his bag. He practically ran out of the room without saying a word.

June jumped up from the bed. Panic seized her chest. She ran toward the door to lock it, but the brass handle was already turning.

The door pushed open. Gage filled the doorway. He had taken off his ruined coat. He wore only a white dress shirt, stained with his own blood. The top three buttons were undone.

He stepped inside. He reached behind him and turned the deadbolt. The heavy lock clicked into place. There was no escape.

June backed away. She took step after step until her spine hit the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. Her whole body shook.

Gage walked toward her slowly. He moved like a predator cornering its prey. His eyes dragged down the thin white silk of her nightgown, then back up to her pale face.

He stopped right in front of her. He didn't raise his hand to strike her. Instead, he reached over and slowly rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt.

The deep bite mark on his forearm was fully exposed. The flesh was torn, and fresh blood slowly oozed from the broken skin.

Gage lifted his arm and held it inches from her face. His voice was thick and raspy. "Lick it clean."

June's eyes widened in horror. The sick, twisted demand made her stomach churn. She shook her head violently, pressing herself harder against the glass.

Gage's eyes darkened. His right hand shot out. He gripped the back of her neck, his long fingers tangling in her chopped hair. He forced her head forward, pulling her face toward his bleeding arm.

June pushed both hands against his hard chest. Tears spilled over her cheeks. She choked on her words, telling him she couldn't do it.

Gage's thumb pressed lightly against her pulse point. He leaned in and whispered that if she didn't do exactly what he said, the video would be sent to every news outlet in the city.

The word "video" paralyzed her. Her arms went weak and dropped to her sides. The fight drained out of her completely.

June closed her eyes. Hot tears leaked through her lashes. She leaned forward, her body trembling violently.

She opened her mouth. Her soft, warm tongue hesitantly touched the edge of the wound. The sharp, metallic taste of his blood coated her tongue.

The second her tongue touched his skin, Gage's entire body went rigid. His breath hitched in his throat.

June swallowed her disgust. She followed his order, slowly dragging her tongue over the broken skin, cleaning away the fresh blood.

The wet heat of her mouth and the slight sting of the wound sent a massive shockwave through Gage's nervous system. It fired straight into his brain.

He looked down at her. He saw her long eyelashes wet with tears. He saw her red lips stained with his blood. A violent, intense heat flared in his lower stomach. The physical arousal hit him so hard it made his head spin.

Gage's eyes widened in absolute shock. A wave of furious panic washed over him. He had never felt this kind of sick, overwhelming desire for any woman, let alone his enemy's daughter.

It felt like he had touched a live wire. Gage yanked his arm back violently. The sudden force threw June off balance. She stumbled forward and crashed onto the thick rug.

Gage stood over her. His chest heaved up and down. His blood roared in his ears. He stared at her with a mix of pure terror and rabid obsession.

He cursed loudly. He spun around, practically running toward the door.

He ripped the door open and sprinted out into the hallway, slamming the heavy wood shut behind him. The loud bang shook the walls.

June sat on the floor, her heart pounding, completely alone.

June sat on the carpet, pulling her knees to her chest. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to erase the taste of his blood. Her hands shook uncontrollably.

Rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway. It sounded like high heels and the heavy thud of a cane. The guest room door swung open.

Beatrice stood in the doorway. Her face was red with anger. Right behind her stood Jessica Cole, wearing a designer trench coat, having just rushed to the estate, her flight indefinitely grounded by the severe winter storm.

Beatrice looked at June sitting on the floor. She saw the smear of blood on June's chin. The old woman instantly knew Gage had tricked her to get into the room.

Beatrice gripped her cane tightly. She pointed out into the hallway, cursing Gage's name, calling him a rabid animal that needed to be put down.

Jessica Cole stepped into the room. Her four-inch heels clicked on the hardwood. She looked down at June's chopped hair and bruised face. There was no motherly concern in her eyes, only deep annoyance.

Jessica Cole put her hand to her chest. She gasped dramatically, playing the role of a horrified mother for Beatrice's benefit, loudly condemning Gage's actions.

June looked up at her mother. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips. She asked Jessica Cole if she finally decided to pause her honeymoon because her daughter was about to die.

Jessica Cole's face tightened. She leaned down and hissed under her breath, warning June to shut her mouth and stop embarrassing her in front of the matriarch.

Beatrice slammed her cane on the floor, cutting off the toxic whispering. She declared that June could not stay in the main house for another minute.

The old woman turned to her personal head of security. She ordered him to open the South Wing immediately.

Jessica Cole gasped. Her eyes went wide. The South Wing was the ultimate fortress of the Becker estate, reserved only for the highest-ranking family members. Even Jessica Cole had never been allowed inside.

Two heavily armed guards walked into the room. They gently pulled June to her feet and guided her out the door.

The group walked down a long, heavy stone corridor lined with reinforced steel pillars. Outside, the blizzard raged, snow piling up against the glass. Inside, the air was warm and still.

At the end of the corridor stood a massive set of double doors made of solid mahogany. Four guards with assault rifles stood at attention in front of it.

The head of security stepped up to a metal panel on the wall. He typed in a long passcode and leaned in for a retinal scan. A heavy mechanical clunk echoed through the hall. The mahogany doors slowly swung open.

June stepped inside. The South Wing looked like a luxury hotel, but the thick walls and steel-reinforced windows made it clear this was a bunker.

Beatrice stood at the threshold. She looked June in the eye. She promised that the South Wing had its own independent security grid. Without Beatrice's fingerprint, Gage could not get inside.

June looked at the men with the rifles. For the first time in days, the crushing weight on her chest lifted slightly. Fresh tears filled her eyes.

She bowed deeply to Beatrice, thanking the old woman for saving her life.

Jessica Cole stood to the side. She crossed her arms and told June to stay put and stop causing trouble for her new marriage.

June gave her mother one cold, dead look. She turned around and walked deeper into the South Wing.

The heavy mahogany doors closed behind her. The locks engaged with a loud, final click, shutting out the rest of the world.

A maid led June into a large bedroom. A fire cracked warmly in the stone fireplace.

June walked over to the reinforced window. She looked out at the dark, snowy night. She felt a strange, fragile sense of safety.

She took off the silk nightgown and changed into a thick, warm set of pajamas. She curled up on the plush sofa right in front of the fire.

She listened to the rhythmic sound of the guards pacing in the hall outside. She finally believed she was safe from him.

Exhaustion crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Right before she fell asleep, the image of Gage's dark, obsessed eyes flashed in her mind. Her body jerked slightly, but the warmth of the fire pulled her down into a deep sleep.

The South Wing was perfectly quiet. But across the estate, a monster was waking up.