The Wife He Forgot to Marry (Winona and Yule) novel Chapter 309

Winona stared at them, her guard instantly up. "I don't know who you are, and I am not going anywhere with you."

She turned to make a run for it, but one of the men shot out a hand and grabbed her arm in a vice grip.

"Ms. Jowett, you are going to cooperate," the man growled softly. He pulled out his phone and pulled up a photograph. It was a picture of Greta, standing completely unaware right outside her school gates.

"Such a sweet little girl. It would be a shame if she got caught up in something terrifying, don't you think?"

Winona's blood ran cold. Her entire body went rigid.

Left with absolutely no choice, she let them shove her into the back of their vehicle.

They drove far out of the city, eventually pulling up to an isolated, run-down warehouse on the outskirts of town. When Winona was shoved inside, the smell of dust and damp fabric hit her. Mountains of second- and third-hand clothing were piled everywhere, marking it as some sort of illegal textile recycling front. About seven or eight rough-looking men were gathered around a folding table, playing cards.

The ringleader, a woman with wild, curly hair, took one look at Winona, pushed her chair back, and sauntered over.

"Someone paid us a lot of money to drag you out here, break your arms and legs, and lock you in a room for three days," she stated casually. "But if you can cough up fifty thousand dollars right now, we skip the broken bones. You just sit in the room for three days."

Winona forced herself to breathe, keeping her voice incredibly steady. "I can pay you the fifty thousand. But I want to know who hired you."

The curly-haired woman clicked her tongue. "Can't do that. Client confidentiality. Transfer the money first."

Winona wasn't going to be a martyr just to prove a point. She pulled out her phone and transferred the funds immediately.

The woman's phone chimed. She checked the screen, gave a low whistle, and grinned. "I like a girl who doesn't waste time!"

She gestured to a small door in the back. "Alright, hand over the phone, and you can stay in the guest room."

She then pointed to a filthy, foul-smelling storage closet on the opposite wall. "If you hadn't paid up, you'd be bleeding out in there right now."

She had been in the underworld a long time; loyalty belonged entirely to whoever held the cash.

Feeling the predatory stares of the men playing cards, Winona swallowed her disgust, handed over her phone, and hurried into the back room, immediately locking the door behind her.

The room was painfully bare—just a rickety bed, a small table, a single chair, and a stainless steel water kettle. Nothing else.

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