Page 21 of Twisted Tate

All I know is she’s not going back.

Not to her father. Not to whoever hurt her. Not to the life that taught her to suck her own fingers in the dark just to feel safe.

The Ravens can send every Talon they have, but I helped my father train them all. They’ll never fucking take her.

Reese Donaldson is mine to protect now. She doesn’t know it yet. Hell, I barely understand it myself.

And if I need to burn the fucking world down for her, then everyone had better get out of my goddamn way.

Chapter 4

REESE

The water is too hot and I don’t care.

I stand under the spray with my forehead pressed against the tile, letting it scald my skin pink. I keep remembering his face when he looked at the bruise. The way he was ready to slit the throat of the man I refused to name.

No one has ever looked at me like that. Like they wanted to burn the world down on my behalf. To actually protect me instead of use me.

I turn off the water and dry off, pulling on the sweatpants and tank top from earlier. My hair hangs wet down my back. I don’t have the energy to deal with it.

I should just go back to bed and try again tomorrow. I should lock myself in the guest room and see how long I can avoid facing Tate again.

But it’s probably not even noon at this point. And I have been brave my entire life because I fucking had to be. I can be brave again.

He’s standing at the window in the living room with his back to me, whiskey in hand. The tension in his shoulders tells me he’s barely holding himself back.

He turns when he hears me, and something flickers across his face. He didn’t expect me to come back.

“I really thought you’d lock yourself in the guest room.”

“I thought about it.”

The silence stretches until it’s unbearable. Then he clears his throat.

“Reese, you don’t have to tell me shit. Not right now.” He forces the words out like gravel. “I meant what I said. We can talk later. But I am not taking you home unless you tell me that is what you want. You never have to go anywhere you don’t want to, not anymore.”

“Thank you.” I wrap my arms around myself. “I want to try to talk about this with you.”

His eyebrows lift. “You can say anything you want to me.”

“I’ve never told anyone. I’ve never said any of it out loud. There was no one who could have helped me or made a difference.” The admission scrapes my throat raw. “So I don’t know if I can. But I want to.”

He doesn’t push. And thank fuck there isn’t pity in his expression. He just watches me with those green eyes that see too much.

“Alright.” He nods toward the couch in the center of the room. “Why don’t you sit?”

I follow him to the couch and pull my knees to my chest. He drops onto the other end, one arm stretched along the cushions, and waits.

I don’t know where to start. So I just let the words come. At least the ones I’m willing to share.

“It started when I was fourteen. My mother died the year before that, and then everything changed.”

Tate’s jaw turns to granite and his eyes are dark. But he doesn’t say anything.

“My father has a lot of business partners. Men who come to the house for meetings, parties, whatever rich assholes do when they get together.” I stare at my hands. “One of them noticed me, and told my father he thought I was pretty.”

I’m starting to shake. I grip my knees harder. I draw a breath, urging myself to continue.