Page 80 of Wade’s Wrath

“Harlow, your father wants to take you home,” Martin said.

“I am home,” she said. The words came before she could think about them, and Princess glanced at her. Harlow felt it too. Wade and his clubhouse had become her home along with his brothers. Martin stepped closer. “Don't,” Harlow warned.

“Harlow—” he said.

“I said don't,” she shouted. He stopped. Maybe he wasn't stupid. Frank appeared behind him, and Harlow's entire body went cold. His face was different from the last time she'd seen him. There was no false charm, no expensive smile, and he looked furious.

“There you are,” he breathed. Harlow raised the gun, and Frank stopped. His eyes dropped to the weapon and then back to her. “Put the gun down.”

“No,” she spat.

“Don't be ridiculous,” he said.

Princess laughed. “Wrong thing to say to a woman holding a loaded gun.”

Frank looked at Princess. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” she spat.

“Harlow.” Her father's voice came from behind them. Richard stepped into the room, and Harlow nearly lowered the gun. For one stupid second, she saw her father instead of the man tied to trafficking women. He was the man who'd raised her, the man who'd taught her to ride a bike, the man who'd sat beside her hospital bed when she had her appendix removed, and the man who'd buried her mother.

Then she remembered the manifest and the initials R.K. She thought about the shelters and the routes. You wanted the foundation profitable. Don't complain about how I move the inventory. Her grip tightened. Richard stared at her.

“You have caused enough embarrassment.”

There it was. Not Are you okay? Not I was worried. He was embarrassed. Harlow laughed softly, and something inside her finally broke free. “That's really what you're going with?”

Richard's face hardened. “Put down the weapon.”

“No,” she shouted. His brows drew together as she wondered if she'd ever told her father no before the wedding—really told him. Not complained or argued, but told him flat out no. She had to admit that it felt fucking fantastic.

“You are coming home with me, now,” he ordered.

“No,” she said again.

“You are my daughter,” he reminded—as if she could possibly forget that.

“Yes, I am,” she said. The words almost made her sick.

“You belong with your family,” he insisted.

Harlow looked at Frank and back at her father. She could feel the disgust on her face. “My family sold women.” Richard's expression changed. It was a tiny change, barely visible, but enough for her to notice.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” her father insisted.

“Yes, I do,” she spat. “I’ve seen the proof myself.”

“Harlow,” Frank warned.

She turned the gun toward him. “Don't say my name.”

His jaw clenched. “Put the fucking gun down,” he said, taking a step closer.

Princess shifted beside her. “You heard her. Back up.”

Frank ignored Princess. “You have made this difficult enough. You didn’t need to bring other people into this.”

“I made it difficult?” Harlow laughed. “You tried to force me to marry you.”