Page 62 of Twisted Tate

This still needs to be her choice. To make up for all of the choices she didn’t have in her life.

“You know I do.”

“Say the word, baby, and he’s dead. Then I’ll take you out of here.”

“Tate.” She holds onto me from behind. “Kill him for me, please.”

“Wait,” he manages from where I’m holding his throat. “No.”

“No more waiting, you son of a bitch.” I move him in front of the doorway to the room that’s on fire.

This is for her. Every nightmare he gave her. Every bruise. Every time he made her believe she was worthless. I want her to watch this man die and know that she is the reason he is no longer breathing.

I release his neck and pull my gun. His eyes go wide and his mouth opens to beg, but I don’t give him the chance.

The shot echoes through the smoke-filled hallway. His body crumples to the floor, and the blood pooling beneath his head reflects the orange glow of the flames.

Reese doesn’t look away. She watches him fall, watches him bleed, watches the fire start to lick at his expensive shoes. Her face is unreadable, but her grip on my arm has loosened. Something has released in her.

The flames will consume his body soon enough. No one will ever know what really happened here, and I don’t give a single fuck either way.

I move to her side and take her hand. She still doesn’t look away from Michael’s lifeless form.

“We need to go, baby girl.”

She nods, but she doesn’t move. Not yet. She watches for another few seconds, her face illuminated by the flames, her expression unreadable.

Then she turns to me, and I see something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Now I am ready.”

I pull her toward the back stairs. The smoke is everywhere now, choking us, blinding us. I can barely see three feet in front of my face. But I keep moving, keep pulling her along, refusing to let go of her hand.

We burst out the service entrance and into the night air. I suck in deep breaths, my lungs burning. Reese is coughing beside me, doubled over, but she is alive. She is safe.

Fox and the others are waiting by the vehicles. Thorne has the engine running. Ivy rushes forward and pulls Reese into a hug.

“What happened?” Fox is staring at the house, where flames are now visible through the third-floor windows. “Where is Collier?”

“He did not make it out.” I meet my brother’s eyes. “He never will.”

Fox holds my gaze for a long moment. Then just nods, understanding I did what needed to be done. If it were for Ivy, my brother would have done the same.

“We need to move. The fire department will be here soon.”

We pile into the vehicles. Reese is pressed against my side, her body trembling. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close.

“You did good, baby girl.” I press my lips to the top of her head. “You did so fucking good.”

She tilts her face up to look at me. Her eyes are red, her face streaked with ash and tears. But underneath all of it, I see gratitude written across her gorgeous face.

“Thank you.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “For being there. For giving me what I needed. I—” She stops, and I watch her struggle to find the words. “Thank you for all of it.”

There is something else in her expression. I think I know what it is, because I am feeling the same thing and I don’t know how to say it either.

I press my forehead against hers. “You never have to thank me, baby girl. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She closes her eyes and breathes me in, and I feel her body finally start to relax against mine.