Page 63 of Twisted Tate

The vehicle starts moving, carrying us away from the burning house and toward the warehouse where her father waits.

“Almost there, baby.” I stroke her hair. “One more and then you’re free.”

She does not respond with words. She just presses closer to me, her hand fisting in my shirt like she is afraid I might disappear. I hold her tighter and let her know without saying it that I’m not going anywhere.

My baby girl is a fucking warrior.

And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows it.

Chapter 10

REESE

The warehouse smells like rust and old blood. I don’t know whose blood. I don’t want to know. The Sinclairs have been using this place for years, according to Tate, and I’m guessing not many people who end up here leave breathing.

My father is going to be one of them.

He’s tied to a chair in the center of the concrete floor, his wrists bound behind him, his ankles strapped to the chair legs. The expensive golf shirt he was wearing this morning is stained with sweat and dirt. His silver hair is matted to his forehead. The broken finger Tate gave him earlier has swollen to twice its normal size.

He looks pathetic and small. Nothing like the monster who has controlled every moment of my existence for the past decade.

Tate stands beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine. Fox and Ivy are near the back wall, Fox’s hand resting on his wife’s hip. Thorne is positioned near the doors. Dane Sinclair stands apart from all of us, watching with a hint of boredom in his expression.

Fox catches my eye and gives me a small nod. “We’ve all agreed that this is yours, Reese. However you want it to go.”

“But we’re staying.” Ivy’s voice is steady. “I was almost sold to that man. Fox promised me I’d get to watch him die.”

I look at her—really look at her. She doesn’t have the haunted expression I see in my own mirror. She wasn’t broken the way I was. But there’s fire in her eyes that I understand. She’s here to witness the death of the man who would have forced her into a very different life.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I mean it. “Both of you.”

Fox’s jaw tightens, and I can see what this is costing him. He wanted this kill. He’d been planning it since Jenson tried to buy Ivy. But he’s stepping back, letting me have control, because he understands that my claim runs deeper.

“Make him suffer,” Fox says. “That’s all I ask.”

Dane Sinclair steps forward with a folder in his hand.

“Jenson.” His voice echoes off the concrete walls. “We have some paperwork for you to sign.”

My father’s head lifts. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale, but there’s still defiance in his expression. He hasn’t accepted what’s happening yet. He still thinks he can talk his way out of this.

“Dane.” He tries for his usual smooth tone, but it comes out cracked and weak. “Whatever this is about, I’m sure we can work something out. There’s been a misunderstanding. My daughter—”

“Your daughter is standing right here.” Dane’s voice cuts through the bullshit. “And there’s no misunderstanding. We know exactly what you are.”

My father’s eyes find mine, and I watch his expression shift. The mask of the concerned parent slides away, replaced by something cold and cruel.

“Reese.” He says my name like it’s a curse. “I should have known you’d run to the first man who showed you attention. Just like your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her.” The words come out sharper than I intended.

“Why not? She was weak too. Couldn’t handle what was required of her.” His lip curls. “At least she had the decency to kill herself before she could embarrass me further.”

Tate’s hand finds the small of my back. His touch grounds me for what is about to happen.

“The paperwork.” Dane drops the folder on a small table that’s been set up near my father’s chair. “A betrothal contract. You’re going to sign your daughter over to my son, Tate.”

My father laughs. The sound is harsh and ugly. “You want to marry her? You actually want to marry the little whore?”