Not with horror. Not with shock.
But with something darker.
Recognition. Understanding.
Then—
Pride. Fierce.
Possessive.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound low and almost animalistic.
“Good.”
It was validation.
Then his voice softened—barely.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
His gaze shifted toward the hallway.
“And then we decide what to do with these two bastards.”
He slid his arm around my waist again.
Steadying. Supporting.
As we turned toward the door, my steps faltered.
I stopped abruptly.
“Wait.”
Ruslan paused instantly.
His attention snapped back to me.
My eyes locked onto Vasquez.
He was now kneeling. Zip-tied. Gagged.
But he was watching me.
Not with fear. With hatred.
The same hatred that had once disguised itself as control and power over me.
Tears clouded my sight as I stared at the man who was once my father — who had loved me with a devotion so strong it felt unbreakable.
Until something shifted.
Until that love turned into something unrecognizable.
My breath hitched violently.
I pressed my palm to my stomach instinctively.
