Page 32 of Wade’s Wrath

Harlow closed her eyes, and Wade watched her struggle to remember. Then suddenly, her eyes opened. “There was one that looked familiar. It was at a warehouse that my father owns.”

Butcher leaned forward. “Where is the warehouse?”

“Just outside of town,” she said.

Wade's pulse kicked. “What warehouse is it?” he asked. “There are three out there.”

Harlow looked at him. “I don't know the address.”

“Anything else you can tell us about the warehouse would be helpful, Harlow,” Butcher said.

“There was a company name on the side of the building,” she said.

“What name?” he asked.

She frowned. “Kane Logistics.” Wade looked at Butcher, and he looked right back. Harlow's father owned that building, which meant that he was probably involved in trafficking women and young girls. Fuck.

Harlow seemed to realize the implication at the same time. “No.” Wade turned toward her. “My father wouldn't—” She stopped, because even she didn't believe the words.

“Harlow,” Wade said carefully.

“No.” She stood so quickly the chair scraped backward. “My father is controlling. He's an asshole. He cares more about money than anything else, but he wouldn't sell women.” Nobody answered, and that was the problem. Harlow looked around the table. “You don't know him.”

Wade stood, and she backed away from him. “I need air.”

He reached for her. “Harlow—” he started.

“I said I need air,” she insisted. Wade let her go, and it took about three seconds before he followed her. He found her outside behind the clubhouse with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She didn't turn around. “Go away.”

“No,” he breathed.

“Wade,” she said.

“Not happening,” he insisted. “I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

“My father can't be involved in this,” she said. Wade didn't say anything because he had no idea what to say. She spun around. “Say something,” she insisted.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

“That I'm right,” she said.

“I won't lie to you,” he said. Pain crossed her face, and Wade hated that he put it there.

“My entire life,” she whispered, “he told me everything he did was for our family.”

“Maybe he believed that,” Wade offered.

“By selling women?” she asked.

“We don't know that he's involved yet,” Wade insisted.

“But you think he is.” Wade hesitated, and that was enough. Harlow looked away. “God.” She covered her mouth, hiding the sob that escaped her chest. Wade stepped closer, and she didn't retreat. “My mother died when I was twelve.” He stayed quiet. “My father was all I had.”

“Harlow,” Wade breathed.

“He wasn't warm. He wasn't affectionate. But he took care of me.” Her voice cracked. “He made sure I had everything that I needed.”

“Except a choice,” he reminded. She flinched, and Wade regretted the words immediately. “Shit. I shouldn't have⁠—”