Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Has that always been there?” I ask him as I push to my feet.
“It has. I placed all our documents in there when we moved in. I made sure the house had a safe before I rented it. I didn’t want this information getting into anyone else’s hands.”
When Dante turns around, he’s holding a stack of files that he places on the desk in front of him. My stomach drops when I see just how many there are.
“These are all…” I manage in a croaked whisper before my words dissipate into nothing as I look up at Dante.
“They’re all my father’s victims,” he confirms.
I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in that house. Knowing, learning, and watching what was going on yet being helpless to do anything about it.
“Every name, photo, and address,” Dante continues. “I kept them because I was hoping, one day, I could save the ones who are still alive.”
Malcolm Savage knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew it was immoral and depraved but enjoyed every moment of it anyway. And he dragged his sons into the darkness with him. I wish I could have helped kill him because my blood simmers whenever I think of the devil who raised Dante and Drake.
“We will,” I say confidently as I look into his eyes. “We will save them.” And I know in my heart we’ll not stop until every file in this stack has been dealt with.
8
HARPER
“It’s time to leave,” Dante calls upstairs from where he’s waiting in the entrance to our rental.
Last night, we sat down with the information we got from Falcon about the gala and made sure every moment we’ll be in the company of those monsters is planned out. We can’t afford to allow our pasts to haunt us when we come face-to-face with our own personal demons, and we don’t have time for any mishaps, so we all need to be on the same page.
The ball will be attended by all the men and women who used to work for Malcolm. We don’t know much about Rayne’s mother yet, but I’m sure we’ll recognize her as soon as we see her because the photos we’ve managed to source indicate she looks just like her daughter.
The idea of Rayne finally getting closure settles me, and the twisting anxiety in my gut dissipates.
There’s one face I’ll see at the gala tonight that I never wanted to confront again. It’s the face of the man who rented me from my father.
The convoluted bullshit we’ve all grown up with makes me sick to my stomach. And what’s worse, we’re not the only ones. There are still so many young girls and boys going missing every day, and there seems to be no way of stopping it from happening. Not even the FBI can get a handle on it. And they’re supposed to be the experts. We’ve only been doing this for a few months, and we’ve already found more traffickers and their victims than the Feds have after years and years of investigation.
I make my way down to the car, and by the time we’re on our way to the airstrip, my stomach’s started to twist again. I haven’t told Dante or Rayne how I’m feeling, and they haven’t asked. Our focus is on finding Rayne’s mother, but Dante knows Bane will be there tomorrow.
The thing about Dante is, he won’t ask and he won’t push for me to speak out. He would rather I go to him with my concerns. And I respect that. But I don’t know how to bring it up, because I know Bane was Malcolm’s friend.
The fact that Malcolm knew about me has been eating away at Dante. He worries there were missed opportunities when he could’ve saved me. But Dante didn’t know I existed, so I don’t blame him. Not in the slightest. The only person to blame is my father.
Once we’re on the plane, I settle back and shut my eyes. I need to spend time with my own thoughts. It may not be the sensible thing to do, shutting out the only two people who care about me, but I can’t talk to them right now.
If I do, I’ll break down.
The man before me smiles, but it’s not a kind gesture, it’s menacing. I’ve seen so many of Daddy’s friends over the years, but this man is new. I haven’t met him before, and the way he’s looking at me is making me uneasy.
“She’s a pretty little thing. And only sixteen years old,” the stranger says as he reaches for my hair and tangles a wavy strand around his finger.
I want nothing more than to pull away and run to my bedroom, but I’ll be punished if I’m rude. Instead, I stand here being gawked at by this old man.