Chapter Eight

Guilt twisted Lena’s stomach as she stood outside the door listening to the father and son discuss their future. Because of her, they may not have one.

She needed to do something but wasn’t sure what. Her hands were tied. There was nothing she could do that wouldn’t make her own situation worse.

Viktor was an evil bastard, but he was smart and he always hedged his bets. She hated feeling useless and weak, but that was exactly what she was.

“I trust you’ve had a nice visit,” Viktor said as he interrupted the father and son reunion, his enormous guards flanking him. Lena stayed back, looking for some opportunity in which she could overpower three large men with guns and save the day.

It was ridiculous. If she could do that, she wouldn’t be in this mess. And neither would Dane. Or Tobey. She swallowed down a lump of anxiety.

“Can we talk somewhere privately? I think it’s obvious I’m not going to go anywhere,” Dane asked Viktor, sounding completely calm.

“Of course. Weller, please bring Mr. Ryan into the living room.”

“Dad?” Tobey’s voice went up with worry.

“It’s going to be okay. I want you to close your eyes and think about playing soccer. Don’t worry.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, buddy.”

Butch escorted Dane out of the room. He stared down at her where she hovered by the door.

His glare went right through her. “You are a despicable excuse for a human being. I hope you rot in hell.”

“I’m already in hell,” she whispered, but he’d already been pulled away.