Page 18 of Twisted Tate

“What the fuck is that?”

She spins around, yanking her shirt down so fast she nearly rips it.

“That’s nothing.” Her voice is too bright. And I know it’s definitely something. “I fell a few days ago. I’m clumsy sometimes. It looks worse than—”

“Who did that to you?”

The rage is bubbling so close to the surface that all I need is a fucking name and they are dead in the amount of time that it takes me to find them.

“I told you, I fell—”

“That’s not from fucking falling.” I’m surprised by how calm my voice sounds, because inside I’m not calm at all. Inside, I’m already planning my weapon of choice to kill whoever did this. “That’s from a fist. And I want to know whose. I promise you that I will make sure they never fucking do it again.”

She presses her lips together.

“Was it your father?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Whoever was in that car?”

Her face twitches. Just barely, just for a fraction of a second.

“It was him.” I feel my hands curling into fists. “The man in the car. He did this to you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tries to move past me. “Just leave it alone.”

I step into her path. “Give me a name.”

“No.”

“Reese.” I’m close enough to touch her now, close enough to see the fine tremor running through her body. Five minutes ago I wanted to bend her over the counter and fuck her until she screamed. Now I want to wrap my hands around whoever did this and squeeze until I hear bones crack. Both impulses are equally strong, and I don’t know what the fuck that says about me.

“I said no.” Her eyes flash with a mixture of anger and fear, then her nostrils flare. “You don’t get to swoop in and demand answers about my life just because you made me eggs. You aren’t my fucking husband or boyfriend. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.”

“Then tell me how it works.”

I do my best to draw a breath. I don’t want to scare or intimidate her. But fuck, this is going to end right now.

“It works like this: I survive. That’s what I do. That’s all I’ve ever done.” Her voice is shaking now. “I keep my head down, I follow the rules, I do what I’m told, and I survive. And some bruises along the way are just the cost of staying alive.”

The words land hard enough to wind me.

Some bruises are just the cost of staying alive.

“Who.” My voice doesn’t sound human anymore. “Give me a fucking name.”

“So you can do what? Kill him?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’d be doing me a favor, but it wouldn’t change anything. There’s always another one. There’s always someone else waiting to—” She stops herself, pressing her hand to her mouth like she’s physically holding the words in.

“Someone else waiting to what?”

She shakes her head.

“Reese.”

“I need to take a shower.” She’s already backing toward the hallway. “Please. I just need—I can’t do this right now. I can’t.”

Every instinct I have is screaming at me to push. To corner her, break her down, get the answers I need. That’s what I was trained to do. That’s what I’m good at.