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Sasha needs me.

Another sob catches hard in my throat, and my eyes burn, vision blurring. You’d think there were no more tears left in me, but there are. A seemingly endless display.

Sasha.

I hug his baby goat to me, his pillow, too. I can’t believe I still had them clutched in my hand as that monster who fathered him dragged me up here and locked me up like a prisoner.

But he did. Because he’s heartless, cruel. A monster behind that handsome facade.

Tom warned me.

And I listened.

But it wasn’t enough.

Fate stepped in and put us together, and he somehow found out about Sasha.

All I can think about is his sister, the girl I tried to help, the one my friend loved and died for. She told him. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I get he’s powerful, but to find out he has a son so quickly, I…

She didn’t even meet him.

She didn’t even see a photo of him.

But Max did. I’d met with Max and he’d gushed over the photo of Sasha, and when Alina arrived, he talked about my son and told me to show her a picture. But I’d rolled my eyes, stating she probably wanted to focus on her wedding and not some kid.

She’d asked, but we got distracted by the waiter. She didn’t see a picture of Sasha, but I’m betting she mentioned I had a two-year-old to Demyan.

It’s how it goes.

Which means he got her back.

Or hell… maybe I’m just flinging something like blame out and he looked into me with his vast power networks. I don’t know.

I don’t care.

I just want my fucking son.

“And lying here isn’t going to help.”

Pushing myself up, I stagger to the bathroom but don’t look in the mirror. I just wet a towel under the cold water and press it to my face. Then I return to the rest of the suite.

Bed, sofa, and coffee table, closet, a small table and chair that could be a desk or somewhere to eat.

And, of course, bars on the window.

I squeeze the towel and wince, my hands swollen and sore from banging on the door the first time after he locked me in.

The second time? When Sasha screamed and cried for me. His terror filled wail of ‘Mama’ could have brought the building down and I slammed my fists, over and over, screaming,threatening, pleading, crying, until I crumpled down to the ground in exhaustion.

No one came.

All I heard was the creak of a floorboard, and at some point when I lay in a puddle, I saw a shadow move across the space at the bottom of the door.

Change of guard?

I don’t know.

I just want my boy.