4. 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.
“At first it was just being in the room. I’d sit on their laps and they’d touch my body over my clothes. My father said I was just being a good lady of the house.”
Tate’s breathing has gone slow and controlled, like he’s forcing himself not to move. His gaze is fixed on me. And I know I can’t tell him all of it right now, but I’ll get through what I can.
“Then I turned sixteen, and things got worse.” My voice cracks. “They started doing more things to me.”
“Reese.”
The way he says my name makes me want to crawl across the couch and sink into him.
“He sold me.” I finally look at him, and his face is terrifying. He’s doing his best to remain calm, but I can see the war he’s fighting with himself to not run from here and rip my father’s head off. “My own father sold them the use of my body for . . .”
And it wasn’t even the worst thing my father has done, but I can’t get into that.
“Names.” I can tell he wants to kill everyone in his path. “I want every fucking name.”
“There were different men. Whoever paid enough or whoever my father wanted to impress.” I’m shaking so hard I can barely speak. “Michael Collier was a regular. That’s who the car last night would have delivered me to. He’s been buying time with me since I was seventeen.”
Tate sets his whiskey down on the table in such a way that tells me he really wanted to throw it at the windows.
“That’s why you came with me.”
“Yes.” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged. “I thought if I burned my life to the ground, at least it was finally my fucking choice.”
“He’s dead.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I know that fuck, and I’m going to make him pay for every single time he touched you.”
“There’s a lot of men who deserve to die for what they’ve done to me.”
“Then I’ll be busy.” His eyes lock onto mine. “I don’t give a fuck how long it takes. I’m taking out all of them.”
My ribs feel too tight to hold what I’m feeling.
“Why?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Why do you care? You wanted to take out my father. That’s what this is about, right?”
“Your father tried to buy my sister-in-law, Ivy. Her father took her from my brother and was going to sell her to the bastard. That’s why I started this, because my brother wants your father to die by his hand for what he tried to do to her.”
I watch him as he appears to search for his next words. Then he swallows hard.
“And I’m still going to give my brother what I promised. But, baby girl, I’m also going to do this for you.”
“I still don’t understand why.”
“Does it matter? What I need to know is if you want to stay with me while I figure out a way to end this. Or I can get you out of the country tonight, if that is what you want. But you get to choose, baby girl. But please don’t ask me not to kill them.”
Tears sting my eyes. No one has ever given a shit about me. Not like this. I’ve never had a single person in my fucking corner. And if someone would have told me that Tate Sinclair would be the one to fight for me, I would have laughed in their face.
“I don’t want to run.” I wipe my eyes and raise my chin. “I don’t want to live like that. And I’m done letting them control me. I want to stay with you and help rid the world of the trash.”
He almost smiles, but I can also see the way he clenches and unclenches his fists.
“We’re going to get them, baby girl. And you should know that while you were in the shower, I got confirmation that your father has already involved the Council in looking for you.”
My blood turns cold.
“My father—”
“He’s playing it off like he’s a concerned parent.” Tate’s voice is flat, deadly. “He’s mobilized the entire Raven network. My father is supposed to send Talons to find you.”
The room tilts. I don’t want to run, but maybe I should. They’re going to find me and drag me back. I’m going to end up right back in that house, under my father’s control, forced to—
“Look at me.”
I can’t. I’m spiraling. My chest is too tight and I can feel their hands on me.
“Reese.” His voice cuts through the panic. “Look at me. Now.”
I force my eyes to his.
“My father is sending Talons in the opposite direction.” His gaze holds mine, fierce and steady. “He knows I’m working on a plan. He’s buying me time. And even if he wasn’t—even if every Talon showed up at that door right now—I’m not letting them take you.”
“You can’t—” My voice breaks. “They’ll find us. My father, the Council—”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“You should. This could destroy you. Your family. Everything.”
“Then it destroys me.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like he’s not talking about burning his entire life to the ground. “You’re not going back to that house. You’re not going back to your father. You’re not going anywhere near Michael Collier. That’s not fucking happening.”
I stare at him. The words don’t make sense.
“Why are you doing this? You never answered me.” My words come out broken. “You could hand me over right now. None of this would be your problem. Why won’t you—”
“Because you’re mine to protect now.”
The words hit me square in the chest.
“You don’t know it yet.” His voice drops low and rough. “You don’t understand it yet. Fuck, I don’t either. But you are. No one will fucking touch you. So no, Reese. I’m not giving you back. Not to your father. Not to the Talons. Not to anyone.”
My eyes are burning. This man just told me he’s willing to destroy everything to keep me safe.
“You’re insane.” But I still want his words to be true. I want it more than I’ve ever dared to want anything in my life.
“Probably.” His mouth curves, but it’s not quite a smile. “But I meant every word. So get used to it.”
The tears start before I can stop them.
Ten years ago, I was a scared little girl who had to survive alone. Ten years of accepting that no one was coming to save me. And now this dangerous, terrifying man is telling me he’ll burn the world down before he lets anyone hurt me again.
“Fuck.” I press my hands to my face. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually—”
“Get over here.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
“That wasn’t a request.” His voice drops harder. “Get. Over. Here.”
My body moves before my brain catches up. I crawl across the couch, and he hauls me against his chest, one hand fisting in my wet hair, the other gripping my hip, holding me against him.
“You don’t apologize to me,” he growls against my temple. “Not for this. Not ever.”
I’m crying harder now, ugly sobs shaking my whole body. His grip is warm and possessive—but it feels like the opposite of everything I’ve ever known.
But even as he holds me, the panic builds. I can’t push their faces away when I think about what happens if they find me. Tate is only one man, and what if something happens to him, and he gets hurt because of me.
I look at Tate and try to make his face take the place of the ones that haunt me.
My chest gets tight. I can’t breathe right.
My hand moves toward my mouth.
I catch myself and yank it back, but he noticed. Of course he fucking noticed.
“What do you need?” His grip on my hair tightens.
“Nothing.” The word comes out strangled. “I’m fine.”
“We’ll save a lot of time if you just answer my questions the first time.”
I shake my head. I can’t. It’s the most pathetic, broken thing about me.