Page 87 of Pray for the Damned

What I do know is that I need to keep a level head if I’m going to get us out of here, and yet every time I glance at my girl with tears falling against her soft cheeks, it gets harder and harder.

The van turns a corner, and Waverly rolls with it, her face flashing with pain as she twists awkwardly to right herself. Every instinct in me screams to protect her, to stop her from hurting, but I have to play this right if I want us both to make it out of here alive.

“Strip her,” Dad commands from the passenger seat, and Waverly’s eyes whip up to mine, panic staring back at me, but I don’t say anything.

I can’t allow them to see how deeply I care about the woman sitting across from me. Because if they knew, they could destroy us both with ease.

The two men dressed head to toe in black combat gear converge on Waverly, but I hold her eyes, silently telling her not to look away from me.

The one on the left produces a knife and makes quick work of slicing through the little black dress, the material giving way beneath the blade with ease, leaving her in nothing but a mismatched bra and panties and her boots.

“All of it,” my father confirms when one of them looks to him for clarification, and my stomach rolls at the thought of these men seeing my girl naked.

It’s different from people seeing her at the club. That would be controlled, part of a kink that we both enjoyed. But this is demeaning and dangerous as hell. There are very few lines my father won’t cross, and rape isn’t one of them.

He thinks women are weak, all the confirmation I needed of that came this afternoon when he was speaking ill of his wife for dying of cancer.

“Where are you taking us?” I ask, inserting as much boredom into my tone as I can manage.

“We’re going to a meeting. I need to see if Draper still wants your whore or if my men can have their way with her.”

Waverly’s eyes widen, but to her credit, she doesn’t make a sound as one of the men tugs her shoes from her feet and the other slices her underwear from her body, leaving her completely naked.

Their eyes move over her body, and I don’t miss the perverted hunger shining in them.

These assholes are the first to die after my father. I can’t allow them to live after touching what belongs to me.

“Gotta say I hope it’s the second option, boss.” One of them chuckles, flicking a satisfied look to me.

“It’s been a decade. Why are you still bothering with the girl at all?” I ask. “She’s not an untouched sixteen-year-old virgin anymore. I can’t see what he, or you, would want with her.”

Hurt flashes through her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. She has to know I don’t mean a word I’m saying. That I’m just trying to get us out of this without any bloodshed on our part, or at least delay things until Kade can find us.

“He had a real thing for her all those years ago.” He shrugs. “Every couple of years I’ve checked with him, and he still wants her, and you know I don’t like to argue with my clients.”

“No, just everyone else in your life,” I mutter under my breath, earning me a punch in the stomach from one of the dead men manhandling my girl.

Waverly tries to pull her knees up to cover herself, but the van turns another corner, and she tumbles with a soft cry. Fuck, she needs me, and I’m not there to catch her.

“Check the clothes for a tracker,” Dad demands, and my eyes widen slightly because I know for a fact there’s one in the lining of those boots because I put it there myself.

I watch with bated breath while Waverly closes her eyes, probably trying to get a hold of her emotions before they overwhelm her.

“There’s two in here, boss.”

Waverly looks at me with surprise, and I shrug. She already knows we’ve stalked her, she can’t be surprised by the fact we’ve put trackers in her shoes.

“You need boundaries,” she hisses, but there’s no anger in her tone. If we were in any other setting, I’m sure it would be more a joke than a reprimand.

“Two you say?” Dad turns to us, and my stomach rolls. Maybe he does know Kade is involved with Waverly too. I’m not sure if that would be better or worse at this point.

“Different brands by the looks,” his crony confirms.

“Hmm, interesting.” Dad looks between us, his gaze assessing, before he turns to face the front and brings his phone to his ear, waiting for the call to dial. “Kade, I need you to meet me at the usual place. I have a problem for you to take care of.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

WAVERLY

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