Page 104 of Dash

“I disagree.” He looked at the ruined portrait and back to me. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want to see him anymore.” My voice sounded grating to my ears. “I don’t want him to be my father.”

“Thena, darling.” He stepped forward and hugged me again, enveloping me in his heat. “You didn’t choose to be his daughter.”

“But I chose to stay with him when my sisters left.” The bile rose in my throat. “I feel slimy and slimed. Somehow, I must’ve collaborated in his depravity.”

“Not true.” Dash caressed my hair, my back, soothing my anger with his touch. “You’re an honorable woman. You did your best to keep him on the straight and narrow. Most importantly, your father’s dead, gone.”

“Is he?” I choked out. “Because he keeps wrecking the world, making it worse, burying me under his criminal crap. Human trafficking! Treason!” I braced my fists on his chest. “That’s what we’re talking about. I survived his neglect, his criticism, and his greed. I tried to fix everything he destroyed, pay reparations to the people he exploited, restore the ecosystems he devastated. I could’ve forgiven him for some of that, blamed it on the pain caused by his losses, but treason? Betraying our country? The country that Nix died fighting for? No, treason I won’t forgive.”

“I understand,” Dash said.

“I don’t think you do,” I spat, unable to repress my outrage. “Has it occurred to you that maybe my father left you the company so that you would take the fall if this all came tolight?”

He inclined his head. “It has.”

“And you’re not livid about being caught in yet another trap?”

“Livid doesn’t help us. What will help is to unravel this clusterfuck until we understand what happened so we can establish whatever role Richard had in this conspiracy, prove that we’re not part of it, and unmask the actors behind the NWO.”

I groaned. “In the middle of this insanity, you’re being so fucking reasonable.”

“When the shit hits the fan, we’ve got to keep our focus.” Dash hugged me even tighter, and his voice traveled through his chest and rumbled in my ear. “You’re upset. The doctor said stress can affect your recovery. The team needs you. Your sisters need you.Ineed you.”

The damn tears began to fall. My entire body seemed to be crying, trembling as if my backbone had turned to pudding and my knees to gelatin.

“Hush, Thena, it’s going to be all right.” Dash continued to hold me, whispering reassuring words, melting the ice in my core with the warmth of his big hands. It took a while. When I was spent and my eyes ached from crying, he drew back and met my eyes. “How about we get down from here?”

I sighed. “Okay.”

“Careful now.” Dash eased his way down to the floor, put his hands around my waist, and hoisted me down.

It seemed to me that I was falling down from great heights. When I tried to stand, my legs buckled and my knees gave way. Dash lifted me up and sat me on the desk. I buried my face in his shoulder and tried to shut out the voices accusing me of collusion by illusion. My breaths came fast and shallow. My heart beat too fast.

“Breathe, darling. I need you to breathe.”

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed by the time I could think again. When my heart finally slowed down, I peeked out from the cradle of his shoulder. All that remained of my father’s portrait were strips, hanging from the crooked frame. I looked at Dash. Nobility. Integrity. Chivalry. Principles. In his eyes, I discovered Father’s antithesis, the antivenom I needed.

“Better?” Dash asked, studying my face.

“Yes, sorry. I lost it.” I managed a dry swallow.

“These are not your apologies to make,” Dash reminded me. “You are not your father, remember?” He released me from his bear hug and cupped my cheek instead. “We can’t focus on the past. We need to focus on the present. Now, give me a moment here.”

He stalked to the remains of the portrait. With a powerful pull, he wrenched the frame and its flapping canvas from the wall.Crack. The frame broke and the whole thing came tumbling down. Carrying the remains of the huge painting as if it weighed nothing, he marched to the door, threw it into the hallway, and wiped the wood dust from his hands.

“Get that out of my sight,” he ordered to whoever was standing guard outside the door. “I don’t want to see it again.”

He closed and locked the door, and after pulling out his cell, hit the dialer. As he made his way back to me, he talked into the speaker. “Monique, this is Dagger. I want you to take down every portrait of Richard Astor that hangs on this planet. Every fucking one. Do you copy?”

My eyes rounded. Monique worshipped my father. She must’ve challenged Dash’s order because he barked into the speaker. “Don’t give me that shit. Just do it. Dagger out.”

Gratitude and affection swelled my chest. How many people in the world would go to such lengths to relieve my agony? I had my answer. One: Dashiell Dagger. He was ascommitted as I was to reclaiming myself.

“That problem is solved.” He slid his cell in his back pocket and took my hands. “You don’t wanna see your father’s face ever again? Me neither. Now, we’ve got shit to do, but I need you to remember this: the sins of the father arenotthe sins of his daughters.”

“After what Trev said…” I took in a shaky breath. “Do you still want to be with me?”

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