Page 7 of Torn Souls

Maybe it’s time, finally, to give the man what he wants.

Not being able to reach me or schedule a sit down must be driving him crazy. He went from having the ear and trust, at least as much as Morozov trusted anyone which probably wasn’t much, of the most powerful man in Seattle to floundering with Morozov dead.

He must be twisting in the wind by this point. I’ve put him off long enough.

A grin lights up Maxim’s face because he probably knows exactly what I’m thinking.

When I catch Baker and Huck’s eye, I give a small nod and they both stand up and head out of my office. We went overeverything we found on Chambers months ago, but it’s time for a refresher and to find out what the man has been up to recently.

I make a humming sound and Betty shifts from one foot to the other. “He’s requesting a dinner meeting this time. What would you like me to relay to him?”

It’s difficult to stop myself from rolling my eyes and grunting out my annoyance. A dinner meeting. That’s a new tactic. It makes me wonder what he’s up to and what he thinks he’ll gain.

Time to put the man out of his misery. Possibly in more ways than one.

As I lean back in my chair, I hardly even glance at the woman. “Set it up.”

Betty’s mouth drops open, the surprise clear to read on her face. Of course she’s surprised. I’ve pushed Chambers off for a while. I’m sure he wasn’t easy to deal with, but Betty, to her credit, didn’t complain about it once.

“Yes, sir,” she murmurs and rushes from the room.

“Well,” Maxim drawls, “looks like it’s time to find out what Chambers knows and what he thinks he’s going to gain from getting on your good side.”

I look at my brother and nod curtly. Chambers doesn’t know that he just invited the devil to the table.

He’ll find out soon enough.

CHAPTER 3

OAKLYNN

Being summoned to my father’s office has dread filling my gut. He’s not an easy man, never has been. Other people can look back on their lives and recall a time of happiness and the feeling of love coming from their parents, but I’m not so lucky.

Maybe if mom hadn’t died, I would have had some of those memories. The memories I have of her feel like an illusion. There have been moments when I’ve gotten a whiff of someone’s perfume or would see a smile on a woman’s face, and it would feel so damn familiar.

Or maybe that’s just my hopeful mind trying to find something to hold onto.

Having my father’s expectations wrapped around me, suffocating me, is something I’ve lived with for far too long. I was expected to be seen, not heard. I was expected to be polite and have good manners. Pouting and tantrums were never entertained.

Sure, people might say it was good parenting, but I wasn’t given room to have preferences, opinions, ideas, or feelings. Just his expectations.

Just his demands.

Just his furor beating down on me and leaving me gasping for air.

I’ve learned to accept that nothing will change in terms of my father. I could maybe accept that if I thought anything he does has anything to do with my best interests.

How the man can make my life about him is beyond me, but he manages. Very well. And all the time.

There was a time when I could sometimes fly under the radar. I used that time wisely by planning to get away from my father while building my strength to be better prepared for whatever shit life would throw at me next.

I’m not so naïve to think that my father will keep me safe. It’s up to me to protect myself.

Maybe if I hadn’t seen a few of the men my father did business with, I could remain blissfully naïve and ignorant. But I didn’t have such a luxury.

The men my father has met with, have brought into the same house where his daughter lives, have been scary as fuck. They are the kind of men you would never want to be trapped in a dark alley with.

The first time one of them looked me over like a snack when I was far too young for that to be okay, I knew I needed to protect myself. Sure, maybe my father didn’t notice.

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