“I want what’s best for you,” Anastasia says. “No matter how long it takes.”

“You just want to clear your guilty fucking conscience,” Tanya snarls. “I know all about you. I’m glad your scumbag of a father is dead, but if you expect me to be grateful that you saved me, you can get fucked. You’re just as twisted as he is. You think you can make yourself feel better by fawning over the slaves you rescued? Well let me tell you, every single one of us is praying for your death!”

There’s a subtle shift of tension along Anastasia’s shoulders. “They told me you overdosed,” she says, her voice free from any hint of her feelings. “I thought you got clean?”

“Maybe I prefer the world through the drug lens,” Tanya mutters, slumping back against the pillows. “What is it to you? Come to get your money back?”

“That’s not it at all,” Anastasia says. “I know you’re hurt and angry?—”

“You have no fucking clue, you cunt. I was fifteen when I was snatched from one of your clubs. They drugged me, and I’ve fucked more men than I can even count, so yeah, I’m fuckingangry. I was sold like a piece of stinking meat. By you! So what if the drugs help? Huh?”

I want to correct her about Anastasia’s involvement, but it won’t do any good. Tanya is hurting and she needs someone to blame, a face to her trauma. I can see that clearly.

“Then let me get you drugs. Something safe that will help you. I told you I would do everything I could to help you, and I mean it.”

“Gonna pay my hospital bills, huh? And my therapy? And the pills to help me sleep, huh?” She yells louder and louder as Anastasia walks closer. “You ruined my life! You destroyed me and countless people like me! I hate you, you hear me? I hate you so much I’d add fuel to the fire if I saw you burning in the middle of the street! I don’t want this life and I don’t want anything from you!”

Tears stream down Tanya’s face by the time Anastasia stops in front of her. The situation is impossible, and I can’t decipher what she plans to do. Then Anastasia lifts her arms and pulls Tanya into a tight hug. Tanya fights it for a few seconds, then she completely breaks down and sobs loudly in Anastasia’s hug.

My heart breaks.

I had no idea Anastasia was going to such lengths to help the people she rescued. Visiting them personally, keeping tabs on every single one to make sure they get a good shot at life, and being there for them when they stumble. I recognize Tanya now as one of the women we rescued last month before the parking lot explosion. She’s almost unrecognizable now that she’s healthier.

To an extent.

I stand like a statue as Tanya sobs her heart out and Anastasia comforts her until she falls asleep. With Tanya resting against her, Anastasia refuses to move, but she finally looks at me. There’s such sadness hidden in her eyes that I want to reach out and soothe her, but it doesn’t come.

It can’t.

I need to keep my distance.

“Erik?”

And yet my heart still leaps when she says my name.

“I need you to call someone for me.”

“Anyone.”

“Cormac Gifford. The Irish Captain.” She looks back down at Tanya. “I need his help.”

10

ANASTASIA

The cafeteria coffee, if I can even call it that, tastes like tar. It rests thickly over my tongue as I hold it in my mouth, debating whether I even want to swallow while my mind races.

Poor Tanya. She’s not the first I’ve seen like this and she won’t be the last. I don’t judge her. I can’t imagine the hell she went through, and how she chooses to cope is her own business, but I will do everything in my power to give her a real chance at a new life. It’s the very least I can do to make up for the horrors conducted under my father’s rule.

It’s a mercy that he’s dead.

But I am now the face of the family, so I am the one they hate.

I can take it.

Mostly.

Finally swallowing, my head falls forward and I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose while a tight ache pulls across my forehead.