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.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You can’t do this.”

“Oh, we can,” Tank Top says, his grin darkening as he looks at me.

Terror grips me, and I glance at my father. He’s watching me, his eyes filled with guilt and fear, and it breaks something inside me. I can’t let them hurt him—or use him to spread their lies.

The room fills with movement as the men prepare for their so-called broadcast, dragging out cameras and equipment. My mind races, searching for a way out, but the ropes are too tight, and my voice feels small and useless.

And then, like a thunderclap, the door bursts open.

The men scatter, shouting in panic as Ranger storms in, his presence commanding and unyielding. His weapon moves with precision, dropping two of them before they can even react.

“Ranger!” I scream, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave.

Tank Top grabs a gun from a nearby table, his hands trembling as he points it at Ranger. The room goes still, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

But Ranger doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. Instead, he laughs—a low, dangerous sound that sends chills down my spine.

“Go ahead,” he says, his voice steady and cold. “Pull the trigger. But know this—I’m not leaving without the woman I love.”

My heart stops. Did he just…

Tank Top hesitates, his grip on the gun faltering. He looks at Ranger, then at me, and I see the fear creeping into his eyes.

“You’re bluffing,” Tank Top says, but his voice lacks conviction.

Ranger takes a step forward, his weapon trained on the man. “Try me.”

The room is electric, the air crackling with unspoken tension. My heart pounds in my chest, but for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel hope.

Because Ranger is here.

And he’s not leaving without me.