30. TATE
TATE
“How did you get in here?” Henry says. He glances at Kline, who’s focused on me, taking a careful sip of wine. Kline wasn’t as broken as I would have liked him to be before I released him, but I was forced to pivot, and he was my best pivot.
Not great.
It’s even less great to see who his sons are.
He fucking played me. Risked my wrath to throw that distraction at me, so he could slip his lie through, and it paid off.
I didn’t ask much about them after that.
I didn’t know one of them was Griffon. But he’d only take that kind of risk if he felt they were something to protect.
He loved Iris. That wasn’t the lie. But Iris didn’t die giving birth. Now I guess I’ll find out if the rest of the conditioning Ethan and I put him through worked, or if Klines are as good under pressure as he boasted they are.
At least Kline’s giving terrified-to-see-me. Maybe letting me in was strategic, or maybe it was in hopes I wouldn’t have him dragged back to my lair.
I shrug. “I know a guy who knows a guy, it’s not important.”
“McKinnon, there you are,” Luke calls, pure joy in his voice, eye fluttering open.
That’s not Luke’s usual voice. Seeing McKinnon here, even if he doesn’t know where here is, shouldn’t be a good thing.
He should be enraged. He told McKinnon to stay put when they last spoke.
They gave him the same thing they gave me, didn’t they?
That really works for me, actually. I spent the car ride here trying to figure out what I was going to do if Luke was here. How I’d rescue them while under the glare of his disappointment.
Wow, how very after-school-special of me. I never think like that. Did not like. Would not recommend. But Luke is tripping balls right now, staring at McKinnon like he hung the moon.
What are the chances he’s high enough that I can convince him this was all a fever dream? Fuck, none, because McKinnon’s here. He won’t lie to Luke, which makes him better for Luke to have than me. And I guess after this, that’s what it’ll be—just them.
He won’t want anything to do with me.
“C’mere, princess,” Luke says.
McKinnon looks around, blushing. “Um, he never calls me that. Must be whatever you gave him.”
Whatever you say, McKinnon. But he takes a seat beside Luke, who paws at him. Know the feeling, bro. All I wanted to do when I was high on that drug was fuck my husband. Or touch him. Or just be with him.
In the chair across from Henry, they have my husband in chains, dressed as if he’s about to be admitted. I take stock of him as I always do. Physically, he looks better than McKinnon, who he clobbered at the end of the game, but it’s hard to tell if all those bruises are from the game.
There’s a mix of relief and regret on his face.
I don’t know what’s going on with him, and my heart aches.
Is it just going to do that now? Hurt when he hurts?
Allegedly. But I don’t get it. I’m here to save the day as promised.
Doesn’t he think that I will? Maybe that’s it.
I guess for some, this is a scary situation.
For me, it’s a playground. I finally get to give everyone what they deserve.
Actually use what Jasper taught me. I didn’t go through that hell for nothing.
Who should I kill first?
I lock in on Clarence. “I’m proud of you, Clarence. You did all this. Jasper’s smiling up at you. Just kidding, he thinks you’re a traitor for going against his fucking wishes.”
Although, to be honest, both things are true.
I’m impressed that Clarence gave in to his lust for revenge.
It’s not the way Uncle Jasper would have wanted it to play out, but he would have admired Clarence’s descent into darkness.
It’s a fucking miracle he held off as long as he did. I wouldn’t have.
Clarence trembles, taking a breath to drum up some confidence. “You mocked me for loving him, said that love was for idiots.”
“Guess you get the last laugh. I’m an idiot,” I say, trying to catch Ryan’s eyes. He still won’t look at me. Oh, c’mon. That was romantic as fuck.
“You’re never going to see Ryan again. You’re going to find out what it’s like to live without the person you love.”
I don’t know if Henry and Kline are armed, so I have to assume they are.
I have the 9mm I took off the guard at the entryway.
Pearl’s going to be pissed that she missed this.
I gave McKinnon the knife in the man’s boot.
Clarence wouldn’t touch a firearm. Uncle Jasper made him a few times, and then he gave up, quoting that Clarence was useless with a firearm.
But, in hindsight, was that Uncle Jasper’s way of pandering to him?
It might have been, and I never would have guessed that. You think you know a guy.
Click-click.
My head spins. Henry is the first to pull a gun. Aimed at me.
“No,” Clarence says. “I don’t want him dead.”
“Aww, that’s nice. Here I thought you didn’t like me.”
“If you’re dead, you can’t suffer.”
Ryan stands up, leaping instead of running because of his shackled ankles. Putting himself between me and the gun. “You’re not shooting him.”
“Ryan.” That’s me, because what the fuck? He needs to be out of target range. I don’t think Henry would shoot him, but accidents happen.
“Put the gun down, Henry,” Kline says.
“Ryan, move,” Henry says.
Ryan shuffles backward toward me, and I do the calculations with the information that little interaction bought me.
Henry won’t shoot Ryan, but he would shoot me.
Clarence doesn’t want me dead, just a lifetime of suffering—thoughtful.
Kline’s still a wild card. Hopefully, McKinnon’s as good at strategy off the ice as he is on the ice, and he’s found a way to use that knife I procured for him to cut Luke free.
I can’t worry about him right now, though. Ryan’s in front of a fucking gun.
“You can have me, okay? Just let everyone else go,” Ryan says.
After this, we’re having a long talk about his self-sacrificing habit. That has to end.
Kline stands slowly, but it costs him. He hasn’t been given much time to recover. “Put it down, Henry, or maybe I won’t settle for Ryan anymore.”
Finally. Kline coming in clutch.
Henry gives a reluctant grunt, setting his firearm on the table.
“You, sit the fuck down,” I snap at Ryan. “Don’t do that ever again.”
Ryan glares, but he shuffles back to his seat. At least he’s not all emo anymore. Fuck. It’s distracting. I want to comfort him instead of doing what I have to do to get us out of here. Uncle Jasper always said: Never miss an opportunity.
I pull out the clumsy 9mm, missing Pearl’s cool handle.
Will she be less mad if I tell her I thought of her the whole time?
I don’t wait or make a speech, I just fire.
Griffon and Cooper instinctively get down.
I’m in a room full of North Point students—except McKinnon.
They know how to move when someone’s popping off with a firearm.
Clarence ducks under the table. McKinnon bodily moves to protect Luke.
But motherfucking Kline who’s supposed to be helping me, must have caught my hand moving. Because moving before I took the shot is the only way he could fuck up my shot. Both he and Henry hit the floor. A loud shatter breaks the air as my shot goes through the window.
“God fucking dammit, VanCourt. We don’t need to shoot anyone. Let’s talk like civilized men,” Kline says, climbing back to a standing position. Yes, climbing. He has to use the table for support.
I’m not a civilized man. “You took my husband.”
“Your husband came to us,” Clarence says.
“Fucking technicality. Unless we can agree that I walk out of here with everyone, you three die.”
“You can have Ryan and the other two.” Kline nods toward Luke and McKinnon. “I keep my sons and Henry.”
Ryan stands up. “Griff doesn’t belong to you.”
“What the fuck? That wasn’t the deal,” Clarence says.
“Me?” Henry says.
Kline ignores them. All Kline really wants are the last living reminders of his time with Iris—which doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be good for Griffon and Cooper—and Henry for … well, other than lust and revenge, that wasn’t really clear.
This is a pickle.
I don’t care about Griffon, but Ryan does, which affects what I can do. Not a situation I’m used to. And Griffon just had to be here. Annoying.
Griffon and Cooper pop up from where they took cover. Griff moves his hands. Is that sign language? Huh, it is. Ryan watches, his facial expressions changing until he lands on anger.
“I know you keep saying that, and I get that it’s your life, but it’s hard for me to just walk away. It’s Kline, Griff. Please, come with me. Please.”
Griff opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
Silent tears stream down Ryan’s furious face. “Do it for me, then,” he bites out. The words are laced with the guilt of saying them. Ryan makes the sacrifices, not the other way around. Griff glances at Cooper, but ultimately nods, walking over to stand closer to Ryan.
Cooper’s throat works, mouth opening as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He readjusts his posture to the prim and perfect statue he was when I walked in.
Ryan relaxes, wiping his tears, but he’s unsettled.
And I get it. Griff was willing to cross that invisible line of Savage or Kline that was drawn between them, but Griff only did it for Ryan.
What does Griff want? Whatever he wants isn’t in line with what Ryan wants, so this is the equivalent of a truce.
Kline grinds his teeth. “They’re twins. Twins come as a set.”
“You know, Kline. Talking about them like that won’t get you Father of the Year. And if you don’t start cooperating, your usefulness expires,” I say.
“Fine, but I keep Henry as promised.”
“He’s all yours.”
“What the fuck?” Henry says.
Kline shouts a call.
A set of guards marches in. One of them is pretty badly beaten. I laugh. I did that.
“Was it really necessary to fuck up my guards, VanCourt? They were told to let you in.”
I shrug. “They were being dicks.”