Page 148 of Unseen Danger

“I wouldn’t know nothin’ like that.” D-Chop’s tone firmed.

Branson had heard that edge often enough to know he was hedging. He never snitched on his pals. Never revealed his own indiscretions either unless they painted him in a helpful light for his career. “D-Chop, Johnson is the one who’s after you, too. He blackmailed Peter into writing the notes and planting the knives. But Johnson beat up the gate guard and started the fire at PowerSource.”

A pause answered Branson instead of the information he’d hoped for.

“He didn’t hurt me with that stuff.”

Good grief. How much did it take to make a guy like D-Chop do the right thing, even when that meant looking like a fink?

“He’s going to hurt Nevaeh.” If he hadn’t already. The thought cinched Branson’s chest until it hurt. “Maybe kill her. Unless we get there first.”

Please, Lord. Get through to D-Chop if he can help us find Nevaeh.

A sigh came across the line. “A’ight. I might know a place.”

Forty-One

She only had a few more minutes to live.

Nevaeh sat folded in the fetal position in the corner of her prison, the basement she’d die in. Tremors shook her body.

Walter had left her for now. Called away by some unfriendly male voice above the stairs. Probably someone who’d join in killing her before he’d lift a finger to help.

Cold. She was so cold. Walter must've taken her coat before she came to. The cap-sleeved bridesmaid dress did little to warm her. Her fingers, wrapped around her legs to pull them tight to her chest, felt numb. As numb as her insides, those internal organs her frame wouldn’t be able to protect much longer from the monster determined to crush her.

And she couldn’t do a thing to stop him. She was helpless. Just like before.

She’d been such a moron. Why did she think anything had changed?

All her training and preparation didn’t make a difference. All Phoenix’s help and Nevaeh’s hard work amounted to nothing. Her skills didn’t help her against Walter. He was too strong, too deadly.

Maybe if she could’ve kept it together, not let the PTSD take over. But wasn’t the fear supposed to help her like Phoenix said?

It had nearly gotten her killed. Would get her killed as soon as Walter came back. She’d freeze again, go into another episode. She’d be useless to defend herself, unable to remember or execute any of the techniques that might help.

She thought she’d beaten this—the crippling fear. It had been gone for a few blissful days. Thanks to Branson.

She’d felt so safe with him. So protected. No more worries about Walter or any man hurting her.

But Branson hadn’t come to her rescue this time. He couldn’t. He probably didn’t even know where she was.

It wasn’t his fault. She’d been so stupid to think he’d always be able to protect her. To think he could somehow guarantee she’d never feel powerless again.

Nothing Branson or Nevaeh herself could do—even with Phoenix’s help and all the training in the world—could equip her to survive this.

The fear was rendering her defenseless, making her an easy victim, just like Branson had said it would.

Panic rolled through her, trembling every part of her battered body.

She wasn’t going to make it through this. Walter would come back at any moment. And it would be over.

But not quickly. It would be painful and slow, like he wanted.

And the fear would paralyze her again. The fear would make sure she didn’t survive.

If only someone stronger like Branson were here. Or anyone more powerful and courageous than her—like Phoenix, Jazz, or Sof.

“That fear gonna own you if you let it.”

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