Page 89 of Pray for the Damned

It’s been a long time since I’ve been manhandled like this, since someone has hurt me, and my body is out of practice taking the pain.

I should have known the night I fled my father’s house wouldn’t be the last time I was beaten.

I keep my eyes trained on the ground as I’m dragged forward, trying to appear as small as I can. It’s not a conscious decision so much as an old habit that feels too familiar in the moment. Meeting their eyes could make them angrier. Not something I’m willing to risk.

Voices carry around me, but I block them out, instead focusing on my breathing. The more panicked I get, the more likely I am to pass out, and then God only knows what they’ll do to me. I need to stay calm. Even if my mind and body are losing their shit about the predicament we’ve found ourselves in.

I’m shoved to the ground again, but this time I manage to land on my knees. Pain lances through me, but I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming.

“What did you fuckers do to her?” Emmett’s father hisses.

“Nothing, boss. You said we can’t play until we get a decision.”

There’s silence for a moment before another body is tossed down beside me, but I don’t need to look up to know it’s Emmett. Even in the short time we’ve spent together, I’ve quickly learned what it feels like to have his eyes on me.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” his father says, and for a moment I think he’s talking about Emmett. I have no idea what part of the city we’re in, but from the flooring, I have to assume we’re in some kind of warehouse.

“What the fuck is this, Dad?” Kade’s voice snaps through the air, and my eyes shoot up to meet his.

He’s looking right at me with the same kind of mask that Emmett was wearing in the van, and my stomach bottoms out.

It was fake.

It was all just for show.

It was a lie.

And I don’t know why I’m surprised.

I should have known no one would truly give a fuck about me.

I should have known I would always be alone.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

EMMETT

Agony crosses Waverly’s face as she looks at me, and it takes everything inside me not to react.

Because I can’t show my hand. Not yet.

I was seconds away from losing my shit in the van, but I was bound, and that’s exactly what my father was hoping I would do.

So I waited. I knew he would call Kade to meet us because either he knows his favorite son has been lying to him, or he’ll expect him to clean up my mess, just like he always does.

Whenever one of us fucked up as kids, he always forced the other to deal with it, like he wanted us to resent one another, and in a lot of ways it worked.

Kade was always his perfect son. The one that took to our world without hesitation, who could hit a perfect shot by the time he was nine, who could take down a fully grown man when he was eleven. And I was the one that was too soft for the family I was born into. I didn’t want to kill people. I didn’t want to learn to shoot a gun. And I certainly didn’t want to beat my brother to prove myself.

My twin meets my eyes, and I see what Waverly likely can’t.

Fear.

It’s hidden deep in the darkness, but it’s there, and I know it is because it’s the same as what thunders through my body with every breath I drag in.

I watched as the doubt crept into her mind, as she began to question me and my intentions, and I fucking hated it, but I had to do what’s best for her, even if it hurt.

Because I will always put Waverly’s safety first, and that’s something she’s going to be realizing for the rest of our lives, which certainly won’t be ending tonight.

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