‘Who’s not?’‘Hannah,’ Kayla pressed on, despite Steve’s obvious disinterest.She’d kept quiet for fear of provoking further vicious attacks on her father. They were going to kill him, cold fear clutched at her tummy. They’d hurt her, to hurt him, to break him and humiliate him. Kayla knew that. Charlie had left his weak spot alone all right, but only because he’d found another more vulnerable one.She had to be brave, to not give in, just like her dad was trying so hard not to give in, so she’d kept quiet, like they’d told her to. But she’d listened and heard, biting down hard on the back of her hand when her dad had screamed out loud, or moaned softly, or worse, made no sound at all.She’d heard Steve’s and Charlie’s debate when they’d drugged him, and Charlie’s subsequent vile taunts. If anyone was fubar, that flat-eyed freak was—Kayla had christened him thus on the back of the last word she’d heard her dad say. And Steve knew it.They needed Steve, Kayla decided.
