Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
There was a large notebook beside them. Frantic, I flipped it open.
It felt like I was being gutted.
A thick blade dragged across my abdomen and my insides spilling out.
It was news article after news article that had been printed out. All of them reporting about an incident that had taken place in San Diego ten years ago.
One where a man had been found dead.
Four young women rescued, their identities concealed to protect their privacy. The different stories and reports of the ones who hadn’t gotten away were more detailed. Their faces and names and histories printed all over the pages.
The pleas from their families for them to be found.
A flurry of handwritten notes had been made on the articles.
Speculation.
Desperation.
A clear obsession as the writer had tried to draw lines to come to a conclusion.
It was there with me again. That same unease that I felt when I found Emmalee Voss sneaking around my office. Way I was sure something was off with her.
Horror wrapped its spindly fingers around my heart.
She’d been seeking me out.
My mind raced to Emery. To that familiarity. To the way it felt like I knew her the moment I met her. The connection that had blazed between us.
And fuck.
I knew.
I knew.
And I was pretty fucking sure she did, too.
FIFTY-THREE
KANE
Twenty-Six Years Old
Kane stood gaping at the load in the back of the truck. His attention swept through the cargo box, covertly counting the heads that were covered by sacks.
Seven.
There were seven fucking girls in the back of this truck.
All of them were bound.
Shaking and whimpering.
Their terror hitting him in a full body blow.
What the fuck was going on?
Disbelief bashed against the reality that laid siege to his brain.
Rage ate up his insides. A fucking monster that devoured every ill-intention he’d ever had and stirred a thousand new.
The thirst for blood and vengeance a bitter taste on his tongue.
“Don’t ever change. Don’t ever let that beautiful light fade. Fight for love and what’s right. I know you will…because it’s who you are.”
He nearly crumbled with the truth. With the truth of the foul, abominable man he’d become.
Tyke howled with laughter as he clapped Kane on the shoulder.
“Surprise. Told you I had something extra special for you.” He lowered his voice, deviant lasciviousness curdling his words. “Every one of them are delectable. I made sure to test them out for myself. We’ll be sure to make a pit stop so we can let you have a little fun, too. Wouldn’t want to leave our brother out.”
Disgust churned in Kane’s guts, and his hands twitched with violence. How fucking bad he wanted to reach out and strangle the life from this motherfucker.
But there were at least six other guys moving around the abandoned warehouse where they often transferred loads from one truck to another.
Mixing things up to remain more undetectable as they moved product to its final destination.
He attempted to gather himself before he gave himself away. Before he went on a straight rampage and murdered every single one of these bastards.
He had to play this smart.
Tyke lifted his hand and waved for Kelp to start backing up the second truck, and once he got it into place, Tyke threw up the rolling door as Kelp came ambling around to the back.
“Get ’em moved,” Tyke ordered. Kelp went to work, yanking the girls up from the one truck and shoving them into the other.
Cries of terror ripped and cut. Knives that scored and flayed.
Kane wavered, so fucking sick he couldn’t move, but he knew he couldn’t stand there and not act the part. So, he grabbed a girl who was huddled against the wall, her body shivering with silent sobs.
He tried to act the beast that the rest of them were on the exterior, while he wished with everything he had that he could whisper in her ear that he wasn’t there to hurt her.
She only whimpered as he jostled her into the other truck, no strength to even stand on her feet.
He turned and went for the next.
He swore to God, her spirit fired.
This ricocheting of energy that bounced against the metal walls of the box.
He inhaled a shattered breath as he hauled her onto her bound feet from behind.
She thrashed, shouting, “Let us go. How can you do this?”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t.
Only he forced himself to comply for the moment, and he jumped off the back end of the truck and lifted her up to place her into the bed of the other.
She fought him the whole time.
Fought and fought.
A warrior scratching and clawing and kicking.
“Don’t fuckin’ fight me, you bitch.” He spat the abhorrent words, playing the same as Tyke and Kelp.
But Kane? He wanted to weep.
She gripped onto his arm, and her nails dug into the flesh.
Drawing blood.
Surprised, he jerked his arm back, and when he did, her fingers snagged on the bracelet he’d always worn, snapping the clasp that held it together.