The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 86

The room was dim-lit only by the city bleeding through floor-to-ceiling glass. Cold Detached. Watching. Beneath the brass lamp’s harsh glow lay scattered traces of a darker world – floor plans, tablet displays, satellite images, surveillance prints. Some stamped in red: ACTIVE. DECEASED.

Ashcroft stood with a glass of whiskey in hand, sleeves pushed up, a hint of ink curling beneath the edge of his watch. The digital file glowed in front of him, but his eyes had drifted -no longer reading, just calculating

“Beckett’s just a loose thread. Random. Disposable. An arrogant nobody who tangled with the wrong man,” he muttered, voice low

Damien didn’t look up. He studied the floor plan, its corners curling with age, a jagged line of ink slicing through the middle

“He’s nobody. Twelve days, then we let him crawl free-broken, marked. Let him spend every miserable breath remembering what happens when he crosses me”

Ashcroft let out a low chuckle, slow and dark

“Well” he said, swirling the amber in his glass, “the bastard’s already halfway to hell I guess I’ll tell the boys to take it easy Let the pain settle Let the wounds fester-just enough so when the sun hits his face again, he remembers us with every breath that still rattles in his chest”

Damien’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor plan. He murmured coldly,

“Hmm Your doctor might thank you someday-stop cutting him up. I want him alive Conscious To feel the pain every single day”

Ashcroft shrugged swirling his whiskey with a smirk.

“Yeah, that’s true. The old man’s pretty pissed-spends hours stitching him up, and the boys just tear it open in less than five minutes. Kinda funny, really. But don’t worry, I’ll tell them to take it easy. Just enough to keep him breathing, but not enough for him to forget. A slow burn’s the best kind of torture”

Ashcroft drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass down with a deliberate clink

“Alright, enough about Beckett. What’s the move, D? This unfinished business won’t handle itself. But if we move too fast, we risk waking the wrong ghosts before we’re ready”

Damien’s jaw tightened. His finger tapped once against the printout, then stilled

“We move fast-but careful And we move clean.”

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