Page 103 of Rafe’s Future

It was all she needed.

Lena began walking that way. Every step hurt. Her ribs protested; her head pounded, and her knees felt weak. But she kept moving, refusing to stop until her back was pressed against the wall.

And then, Lena waited.

One minute passed. Two. Three. To her, time no longer mattered. Henry would come back. Men like him always returned. If for no other reason than to see their victims broken.

They didn’t break me.

Not even close. It would take a lot more than some bruised ribs and a busted lip.

As she waited, Lena closed her eyes and pictured Rafe’s handsome face. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let Henry take him away from her. And she damn sure wouldn’t be the reason Rafe died.

Footsteps sounded outside. Lena opened her eyes. A lock clicked, and the door started to open. Henry stepped inside, already running his arrogant mouth.

“I have to admit, Director Price, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to⁠—”

He took two steps into the room before he realized the chair was empty. Lena didn’t wait to move. She slammed into him from the side, wrapping one arm around his neck as they crashed into the wall.

Henry grunted, caught completely off guard, but he was stronger than she’d expected. He twisted, trying to throw her off, and Lena drove her knee into his thigh.

She reached beneath his jacket for his weapon. Her fingers wrapped around the butt of his gun. Henry caught her wrist, and they struggled for the weapon’s possession. His shoulder slammed into hers as he tried to wrench her away.

Lena tightened her hold, refusing to give up. Instead of fighting against him, she twisted the same direction. Once again, her move took the narcissistic jerk by surprise.

The guard appeared in the doorway right as she ripped the gun from her captor’s hand. His attention was on Henry, rather than her.

His mistake.

Lena brought the weapon up and fired. The guard dropped as Henry swung his arm up. His elbow slammed backward into her face.

Pain exploded across the bridge of her nose. Lena stumbled back, and Henry struck her again. The gun flew from her hand as she hit the floor with a thud. The impact drove what little air remained in her lungs from her body.

Before she could even think about moving, Henry drove his boot into her side. She cried out as agony tore through her.

Lena curled herself into a protective ball and saw the gun lying only a few feet away. Her training took over. She scrambled toward it. Her fingers wrapped around the weapon’s grip.

Henry kicked the gun from her hand.

No!

It slid away, and she pushed through the pain to lunge for it again. Lena almost had it, she was almost there when⁠—

Henry’s boot came down on her hand.

Bones cracked as her scream tore through the room. For one horrifying second, she couldn’t breathe. The pain was white-hot. Blinding. Unyielding as it radiated up into her arm. Her entire body seemed to tremble because of it.

And when Henry stomped on it again, another sharp burst of agony ripped through her.

I’m going to be sick.

She turned her head to the side, but somehow managed to keep it in.

“That’s for my father,” he spat.

Her vision blurred and blood ran from her nose. Her ribs throbbed with every breath, and her hand felt as though it had been crushed by a two-ton truck.

Henry crouched beside her.