5. Chapter 5 #3
“Come here.” I sit on the bed and pull her into my lap, her shoulder against my chest. She settles against me like it’s the only place she’d ever want to be.
We sit in silence, her fingers tracing the tattoos on my arm, my chin resting on top of her head.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice is quiet. “About the men who hurt me.”
My arms tighten around her. “You don’t have to do this now.”
“I want to.” She takes a breath. “You asked me for their names, and I’m ready to give them to you. At least the ones I can remember. Because I want them dead, Tate. Every single one.”
“Then fucking tell me, baby girl. And I’ll kill each and every one of them in whatever way you want me to.”
She’s quiet for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is flat—like she’s reading from a list instead of naming the men who destroyed her.
“Richard Castellano. He was the first one after my father started selling me. I was sixteen. He had this thing about calling me princess while he . . .” She stops, swallows. “That’s why I didn’t like you calling me that.”
I only see red, and if I didn’t have her in my arms, I would tear the entire house apart.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. Er . . . can I not call you that?”
She clasps my hand, but doesn’t look at me. “Is that what you call all the girls you fuck?”
I clasp her chin and make her look at me. Her jealous tone makes me want to fuck her all over again. “No. I swear to you. Never once.”
She grins at me, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “Then never stop calling me that.”
“I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll give you anything you want, baby girl.”
I don’t think there is a part of me that could ever tell her no. She has me, and if she wants something, she’s going to fucking get it.
She continues with the list of names, and I am going to enjoy killing each and every one of the fuckers. Then she comes to the last name.
“And then there was Michael.” Her whole body tenses. “Michael Collier.”
I know the fucker. He’s a lower-rung Raven.
“You don’t have to tell me about him if you don’t want to. He’s going to die either way.”
“You already figured out that he’s the one who beat me.
” Her voice drops. “He got off on hurting me. He paid my father extra for that. Then he told me I’m worthless.
That no one will ever love me. That I should be grateful that anyone will still pay for me.
” She’s shaking now. “He’s the one I saw.
When we were . . . when I went away. I saw his face. He haunts me the most.”
I turn her to face me, so her legs are straddling my lap. Her eyes are wet, her face pale. She looks like she’s waiting for me to react with disgust.
“None of this is your fault, baby girl.” I cup her cheeks. “I swear on my life that I am going to take care of them. Michael Collier is never going to fucking touch you again. None of them are.”
“He’s connected. His family is powerful in our world. You can’t just—”
“Watch me.” I hold her gaze. “I don’t give a shit about any of their connections. My connections are better. Every name you just gave me is a dead man. They just don’t fucking know it yet.”
She stares at me. Then her face crumbles, and she buries her head against my chest.
The sobs come in waves—huge, wracking surges that shake her entire body. I hold her through it, stroking her hair. She’s crying out years of pain, years of fear, years of pretending she was fine when she was dying inside.
I already know how I’m going to fix it. I’m going to make sure she’s well fucked and that every one of the bastards die.
When she finally stops, she lifts her head and wipes her eyes. Her face is blotchy and swollen. And she’s still beautiful.
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You are done apologizing.” I brush tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Ever.”
Fresh tears spill. “I never put up a fight. Maybe if I’d fought—”
“No.” I grip her chin. “Fucking stop.”
She kisses me. Soft and slow. It’s nothing like the desperate kisses in the shower. It’s so much more.
When she pulls back, her eyes search mine. I don’t know what I’m feeling when I look at her. I’ve never felt it before.
“What happens now?”
“Well, now I need to call my brother.” I reach for my phone. “Fox knows I have you. My father knows something’s going on. We need to bring them in.”
“Can we trust them?”
“I already told you why I started this.” She nods in understanding. “And I trust my family with my life, and yours. This is personal for them, too.”
“I’m nervous, Tate.”
My poor baby girl. She’s emotionally wrecked and her entire world is upside down. And I’m going to make it fucking better for her.
“I’ve got you. Give it all to me, baby girl.” I kiss her brow. “I’ll ask him to come tomorrow. You can tell them as much or as little as you want, and we’ll figure out how to end this. Together.”
She takes a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” Determination settles into her expression. “I want them to pay.”
“And they will, baby girl.”
I pull up Fox’s number on my phone and hit call.
Fox picks up on the second ring. “It’s about fucking time, brother. I was starting to worry you got yourself killed.”
“I need you at the cabin. And bring Ivy. But don’t tell Dad yet. I want to talk to you first.”
“What’s going on? Dad’s stalling the Council, but they’re losing patience. They are starting to question why his Talons can’t find the Donaldson girl.”
“I know. I’ll fucking explain when you get here.” I look at Reese, wearing my clothes, her face still tearstained but her chin lifted. “There’s someone you need to meet. Someone who changes everything about how we handle Jenson Donaldson.”
Fox goes quiet. “She needs you to protect her? The daughter.”
“Her name is Reese. And yeah.”
“Jesus Christ, Tate.” He exhales. “Do you know what the fuck you’re doing?”
“I know exactly what I’m fucking doing.” I hold her gaze. “And there isn’t a scenario where I’m giving her back.”
Silence. When he speaks again, his voice is different, like he understands.
“We’ll be there first thing tomorrow. Dad should be able to hold them off a bit longer. I’ll see what I can do in the meantime.”
“Thank you, brother.”
I know that Fox will do as I’ve asked. And we’ll bring Dad and Thorne in as soon as I get Fox to understand how the situation has changed. I don’t know what Reese is going to want to share, but having Ivy in her corner will be less intimidating than starting with a group of Sinclair men.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a lot to figure out.” Fox pauses. “And Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“She must be one hell of a woman.”
He hangs up.
I set the phone down and pull Reese against my chest. She’s watching me with those gray eyes.
“So he’s bringing his wife? I met her once.”
“He is.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “He and Ivy are disgustingly happy.” I smirk. “It’s fucking nauseating.”
She laughs, and I realize I want to hear that sound every day.
“Tate?”
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“Thank you.” She cups my face. “For fucking believing me.”
“You’re a survivor, Reese. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth a damn.” I turn my head and kiss her palm. “And I’m yours. Don’t fucking forget it, baby girl.”
She traces the bite mark on my shoulder. “Trust me. I won’t let you.”
I hold her while my phone buzzes with the messages I keep ignoring.
Tomorrow, my family comes. Tomorrow, we plan how to end this.
But right now, I’m going to fuck what’s mine.