Page 48 of Protecting What's Mine
“I’m not waiting,” I say firmly, ending the call before he can argue further.
I step out of the truck, the cool night air sharp against my skin as I move toward the compound. My heart pounds in my chest, but my mind is clear, focused.
They took Tory.
They made it personal.
And they’re going to regret it.
As I approach the gates, my phone buzzes again in my pocket. I pull it out, already knowing it’s Dean.
“Don’t do this, Ranger,” he warns, his voice low and tense. “Bravo’s minutes away. Let them handle it.”
“Every second we wait is a second they could hurt her—or worse,” I reply, my voice cold and steady. “I’m not standing here while she’s in there.”
“Ranger, think about this—”
“I have,” I say, cutting him off. “And I’m going in.”
I end the call, sliding my phone back into my pocket as I move closer to the gates. My grip tightens on my weapon, my senses sharp as adrenaline courses through my veins.
Tory’s in there.
And I’m getting her out.
Chapter 24
Tory
The van comes to a jarring stop, and I’m thrown sideways, my shoulder slamming into the wall. Pain radiates through me, but it’s nothing compared to the fear twisting in my chest. The men in the front laugh, their voices low and cruel, and I press myself into the corner, desperate to disappear.
“Let’s go,” one of them snaps, yanking open the back doors.
I’m dragged out, my feet scraping against the rough gravel as they haul me toward a large, looming building. It’s dark and cold, the air thick with the smell of damp wood and diesel. My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle against their grip, but it’s no use.
Inside, the space is cavernous and dimly lit, the air heavy with dust. I’m shoved forward, stumbling until my knees hit the concrete floor. My breath catches in my throat when I see him.
My father.
He’s tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face pale but determined. His glasses are crooked, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow, but he looks up at me with a spark of defiance in his eyes.
“Tory,” he breathes, his voice trembling.
“Dad!” I cry, tears streaming down my face.
Before I can move toward him, they grab me again, forcing me into a chair beside him. The ropes bite into my wrists and ankles as they tie me down, and my heart races with terror.
“Leave her alone,” my father says sharply, his voice stronger now. “She has nothing to do with this.”
Tank Top steps forward, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Oh, she’s got everything to do with this, Doc. She’s leverage. Motivation. Insurance.”
He crouches down in front of my father, his grin widening. “You see, we’re not here to hurt anyone. But people need to know the truth. Science and food shouldn’t mix. You’re playing God, and it’s time the world sees the danger you’re putting them in.”
“This is absurd,” my father snaps. “What I’m doing will save millions of lives—starving people, children—”
“You’re poisoning them,” Tank Top interrupts, his voice rising. “And we’re going to make sure everyone knows it.”
He straightens, pacing in front of us like a self-proclaimed prophet. “We’re making a video,” he announces to the room. “You’re going to tell the world exactly what you’ve been doing. And we’re going to show them why it’s wrong.”