*****

TRIGGER WARNING

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*****

Dane

Just stand there and look scary. The way you do when someone makes you really angry. Just imagine that this guy is going to hurt Lila. Yes, just like that. Very good, Dane. You've gotten good at this since you've been away.

He'd fallen into that place, the dark spot where he felt next to nothing, and could function well, despite whatever what was happening. He hadn't expected it—and frankly, that scared him more than the fact that he was watching his father hold a man against his will, and threaten his life.

He'd known it was only a matter of time until his father brought him into one of these little meetings. And now that it had started, he knew it wouldn't be the last. His father asking him to just stand here and look frightening was a ploy in itself, he knew. To Douglas Daniels, this moment was as much about Dane as it was about the man who sat in the chair, sweating and bleeding, trying so hard not to give in to the urge to beg for his life.

Dane eyed the man and let all his rage and frustration, every ounce of burning fury he felt for his father, show in his eyes. At least, he tried to. The fire was distant—somewhere deep inside his skin, and he didn't really feel it as much as acknowledge its presence.

But the man in the chair paled, and his father smiled. That was good. As long as the guy gave in so his father wouldn't up the stakes and decide to kill him.

He'd told himself he could handle this. He'd told Lila he could handle it. That whatever he had to do would be worth it if it kept her safe.

But… but now, sitting here in this room so reminiscent of the one he'd grown up visiting, seeing his father pulling exactly the same shit he'd been pulling fifteen years ago… Dane was sinking. The numbness had saved him this time. But what would happen the time his father decided to put the knife in his hand?

Would he do it?

And what would happen to Lila if he didn't?

Across the room, behind the shaking, bleeding man, Felix stood. He kept staring at Dane. Dane didn't meet his eye—was afraid of what he'd see there. Was Felix watching him with approval? Had he heard about Dane's meeting with his father—the true content of that conversation? Or was he just staring because Felix was as sick as his father and was trying to figure Dane out?

Dane wouldn't put it past his father to tell Felix about Dane's report himself, just to see and measure the man's reaction.

And he wouldn't put it past Felix to act as if nothing had happened, even if his father had revealed all.

The noose around Dane's neck, woven of suspicion and stress, was tightening. And for the first time he was uncertain he could resist it.

Or maybe… maybe the answer was to not resist? Maybe the answer was to let it slowly cut off all air?

*****

Hours later, the man was gone, along with the rug that had been under his chair. Food had been brought to them in his father's office as the men discussed whether it had been wise to leave the man alive, the way any normal group of men would have discussed the latest football game.

And the frightening thing was, Dane felt comfortable. Now that no one was being tortured or coerced… he could smile and eat.

That wasn't normal, he knew.

He shouldn't be able to enjoy a suggestive joke about breasts and thighs when he'd just seen a man barely walk away with his life. He shouldn't have been able to savor the juicy meat when he'd been witness—no, accomplice—to a dozen felonies.

He took another bite of the barbeque chicken and asked himself what it felt like to be insane? Actually out of your mind? Would he know? Or would he be walking through the day thinking everything was fine, only to discover he'd been living a fantasy the whole time?

Or worse, would he not even realize the house was falling down around him? Would the day come that he'd become his father and not even know it?

His hands felt cold, suddenly, and his stomach clenched. He put the second piece of chicken down and tried to eat a bite of salad, but it was dry and tasteless.

Around him, the men talked as if they'd been at a barbeque and now it was time to have a beer and catch up. But soon, one by one, they left, until it was just Dane and his father.

Dane had stopped feeling sick, but the world now felt slightly surreal, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to separate his memories of his father, with the man in front of him now. Not that there'd been any significant change that Dane could see. Not in his father.

It was Dane who had changed.

And that made all the difference.

"Well done today. You didn't balk. I was happy to see it."

Dane didn't bother to hide his sudden weariness, rubbing his eyes and leaning his temple on his fist. "Just stand there and look scary you said. That was the easy job."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all. I'm just saying, it's not much to contribute. Not a lot to trust me with."

"Do you want more?"

Dane shrugged. "Honestly, at some point. When I feel like I know what's going on. I was flying blind today, scared to open my mouth in case I screwed it up. You should fill me in before you put me in a room with someone."

His father's mouth tipped up on one side. "Yeah, sure, Dane—and I'll give you the keys to the safe, too, shall I?"

"Whatever, Dad. I'm too tired to argue about it. I'm doing what you tell me. Just know I'm capable of more, that's all."

"More, huh?"

Dane's gut twisted. "Yep, definitely."