Page 45 of Redemption

The words were thick on his tongue, but a woman’s voice responded.Goddamn it, Zoe.He couldn’t make out her words. His heart tore. She was out of reach. He couldn’t help her when she only wanted to help others.

“Stay still.” The woman’s anger was so raw he could feel her wrath. “You ruined my life,” she yelled at Mikhailov.

Ryder watched the events like a television show as Locke talked to her.Victoria.Her tears echoed in his ears. The missing pieces of who she was and what Ivan had done to her were clear.

She was going to kill Ivan.

Sheshouldkill Ivan.

But Locke… Locke was in the way, and Ryder… the hallway spun.

Ryder couldn’t see. He couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth. He needed to stop her from shooting his teammate, but hell, the only thing that made sense in Ryder’s mind was that he wanted Ivan to die.

He couldn’t get the words out. Locke’s eyes were on him. Victoria’s sobs were next to him. Ryder’s disgust for Ivan grew and grew, more than he could imagine for a man he didn’t know—

He bolted upright in bed, sweat tickling his brow and his heart slamming in his throat. His gaze darted around—not Russia.Not in Ivan Mikhailov’s compound.“Fucking nightmare.”

As Ryder glanced around Winters’s guest bedroom, he took a breath, relieved that he wasn’t reliving the hell of Victoria’s decision all over again, and he scrubbed his palms over his face as the hatred he harbored for Ivan grew. He hated that the excuse for a human was still alive.

Slowly, Ryder’s heart rate came back to a normal pace, and his eyelids sank shut, remembering Zoe’s appearance in his nightmare. “Christ.”

He dropped back to the pillows. A soft knock sounded on his door.

Ryder propped up on an elbow. “Yeah, hello?”

The door cracked open. “Hi.”

He heard her voice before she stepped into the room. “Victoria. Hey, did you need something?” He swallowed, his pulse still not where it should be, and his voice didn’t sound right either.

“I thought I heard you,” she whispered.

“Oh, right. Bit of a nightmare, I guess.”

She clung to the door. “You’re okay?”

“You checking on me?” He smiled, chuckling, and folded himself upright.

The covers piled around his waist, and her chin dropped down. “Guess so. If you’re okay then.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged without lifting her head.

“Something’s up? You’re staring at the carpet like it’s amazing.”

“You’re not wearing a shirt, Ryder.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I don’t sleep with a shirt on.” His hand searched the top of the bed for a shirt to pull on but came up empty. “And I don’t know where a handy one is. Sorry.”

“I’ll go.”

“You’re going to leave because I’m not wearing a shirt?”

“I… I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “Feels intrusive. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

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