Page 64 of Twisted Tate

Tate moves so fast I barely see it. One second he’s beside me, the next his fist connects with my father’s jaw. The crack of bone makes me flinch.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Tate’s voice is low, deadly. “Or I’ll remove your tongue before we get to the signing.”

My father spits blood onto the concrete. When he looks up, his eyes are wild with a fury I recognize. I’ve seen that look before, right before the punishments came.

“You think you’re saving her?” He’s talking to Tate now, ignoring me completely. “You think she’s some innocent victim you can rescue? She begged for it. All those men, all those years. She spread her legs and she begged for more.”

I don’t flinch. I’ve heard these words before, in different forms. They used to break me. It’s the bullshit narrative he used to make me believe I deserved everything that happened.

Not anymore.

“Sign the contract.” Dane’s voice is ice. “Or my future daughter-in-law will start removing pieces of you until you do.”

Tate’s hand tightens on my back. “Baby girl, are you sure—”

“I want to.” I meet his eyes, and I see the war happening behind them. He wants to protect me. He wants to keep me away from the blood and the violence. But he also always gives me what I need. “Please.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he nods and presses the handle of a knife into my palm.

The weight of it feels right and makes me feel powerful.

I walk toward my father. I’m not the scared little girl who used to cower when he raised his voice. I’m not the broken teenager who learned to go somewhere else in her head while men used her body.

I’m the woman who survived all of it. And now I’m the one holding the knife.

“You’re going to sign that contract.” I stop in front of him, close enough to see the fear starting to creep into his eyes. “And then you’re going to tell them the truth.”

“The truth about what?” He’s trying to sound bored. It’s not going to work. “I’ve never lied to you, Reese. Everything I did was for this family. For your future.”

“My future?” I press the tip of the knife against his shoulder, just above the collarbone. “For a decade you sold me to men who raped me, and you want to talk about my future?”

“I provided for you. I gave you everything. The clothes, the education, the lifestyle.” His voice rises. “Do you know how much it cost to raise you? To keep you in designer clothes and private schools? You owed me, Reese. You still owe me.”

I push the knife in. Not deep—just enough to break skin. Blood wells around the blade, staining his white shirt red.

He screams.

“Sign the contract.”

“Fuck you.” He’s panting now, sweat dripping down his face. “You ungrateful little bitch. After everything I did for you—”

“What did I tell you about watching your goddamn mouth?” Tate snarls behind me.

I twist the knife. His scream goes higher, thinner.

“Sign it.”

“Alright! Alright, I’ll sign it.” He’s sobbing now, actual tears streaming down his cheeks. “Just stop. Please.”

I pull the knife out and step back. The blood is warm on my fingers, and I feel nothing. No guilt, no horror, and not even satisfaction. There is just calm.

Dane unties one of my father’s hands and places a pen in his grip. My father’s hand is shaking so badly he can barely hold it.

“Sign.” Dane’s voice leaves no room for argument.

My father signs. His signature is shaky, barely legible, but it’s there. Dane checks the document, nods once, and steps back.

“It’s done.” He looks at me. “You’re officially betrothed to my son. One of my Talons outside is a notary, so just keep one of his thumbs intact for me, sweetheart.”