Page 14 of Pray for the Damned

“You’re three minutes older than me, Kade,” I remind him.

“Still older.” He shrugs.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He may not know it, but I know exactly what he’s doing here. It took me a couple of years to work it out, to realize I wasn’t the only one watching every move Waverly made, but now I know exactly where my brother is at all times.

At first I thought maybe he was reporting back to my father about what I was doing, but when he never showed up, I realized there was more to it.

Plus, he had to get his own membership for the Scarlet Lounge, which Elias immediately told me about after Kade tried to enter under my name.

“I was just making sure she got home safely,” he tells me after long seconds of silence.

“She did, so you can go.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I could. But I don’t think I will.”

Before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us and grasp the collar of his shirt, shoving him into the brick wall so hard that his body thuds against it, but Kade just stares at me with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I knew he was still in there,” he muses.

“You don’t know shit,” I snap.

“You can parade around like an angel all you like, but you’ll always have the devil inside you.”

A growl rises from the back of my throat as I pull him toward me just to slam him into the wall again. “Stay away from her, Kade. I fucking mean it,” I snarl. “I told you in Chicago that I didn’t want you near her. Your presence is much more likely to bring Dad around than mine is, and I don’t want him getting wind of her.”

He chuckles. “Dad wants me wherever you are. So as long as you’re with her, I’m with you both.” His smug tone has my entire body filling with a familiar rage, but I tamp it down.

I’m supposed to be better than this, I’m supposed to be able to overcome my past in favor of the future. But there are some things that you just can’t bury, and I’m starting to think my past might be one of them.

CHAPTER NINE

WAVERLY

Ipress my eyes closed to blink back the exhaustion. My body is sluggish, and I’ve dropped one too many plates today, making my asshole boss bristle with annoyance.

I fucking hate this place.

I hate working in a diner.

I hate stinking of fried food at the end of every day and having customers think it’s okay to touch me without permission.

I’ve just had enough.

“Waverly,” Denise snaps, and my eyes fly open, meeting those of the fifty-year-old woman who has made my life hell since I started here. I don’t know why people like her open businesses that require them to have staff and deal with people each day, because it’s clear as day the human race’s existence personally offends her.

“Hi, Denise.” I force a smile to my lips, hoping it looks more genuine than it feels.

“I need to cut down your shifts.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve been giving you more shifts than the other girls for months because you said you needed the money, but so does everyone else.” She shrugs. “I gotta share the hours around.”

I open my mouth to argue, my chest tightening at the thought of struggling to pay my bills even more than I do already.

My power is still disconnected, and even with the tips I made last night at the Scarlet Lounge, I’m still going to be short.

“Please, Denise.” I hate the way my voice shakes beneath the unrelenting fear that slams into me.

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