Page 66 of Twisted Tate

“Baby girl.” His voice is wrecked. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

I’m sobbing now, ugly heaving sobs that shake my whole body. He holds me tighter, one hand pressed against my stomach, the other stroking my hair. I can feel how badly he wants to tear my father apart with his bare hands, but he’s holding me instead. He’s giving me what I need first.

I turn in his arms and bury my face in his chest. The knife is still in my hand, slick with my father’s blood. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what to do with any of this.

Ivy appears beside us. She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t try to offer comfort I can’t accept right now. She just stands there, a solid presence, her eyes wet.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is quiet, meant only for me. “Reese, I’m so sorry.”

I nod against Tate’s chest. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but hold on to the man who’s keeping me upright.

“I need him dead.” The words come out muffled against Tate’s shirt. “But I can’t—I’m not—”

“You don’t have to.” He cups my face and tilts it up so I’m looking at him. His green eyes are blazing with fury, but underneath it is something else. Something that makes my chest ache even through the pain. “Remember what I told you? If it gets too heavy, just tell me.”

“It’s too heavy.” I’m still crying and can’t seem to stop. “Tate, I need this but I can’t be the one to—”

“Then give it to me.” He takes the knife from my hand, his fingers gentle despite the rage that I know he’s tempering for my benefit. “I’ll carry this for you, baby girl.”

He kisses my forehead. Then he steps back, and when he turns toward my father, he’s a different person entirely.

Fox moves to stand beside me, one hand on my shoulder. Ivy takes my hand and squeezes. I lean into both of them, grateful for the support, and watch the man I love walk toward the man who destroyed me.

My father sees Tate coming and starts to beg. “Please. I confessed, like she wanted. I signed the contract. Please, I can be useful. I have information. I have connections. I can help you—”

“You can’t help me,” I scream. Tate stops in front of him, the bloody knife glinting in the dim light, letting me speak. “There’s nothing you have that I want. Except for your death.”

“Reese!” My father twists in the chair, trying to find me. “Reese, please. I’m your father. Whatever I did, I’m still your father. You can’t let him—”

“You’re no father to me.” My voice comes out steady. Stronger than I expected.

My father’s face crumples. He opens his mouth to say something else—another plea, another excuse, another manipulation—but Tate doesn’t give him the chance.

Tate’s behind him now and grips my father’s hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. The knife presses against the tender skin, and I see a thin line of blood appear.

Then Tate lifts his head and his eyes are on mine. I can see the way his throat moves as he swallows hard.

I can see everything in his gaze—the fury and need to protect me. But underneath all of it, I know exactly what he’s feeling and what he’s going to say next.

“I love you, baby girl.”

The words mean more to me than anything, and I fight every urge to run to him. I stop breathing. Ivy’s hand tightens on mine.

“Tate—”

“I love you.” He says it again, his eyes never leaving mine. “And I am so fucking proud that you’re mine.”

Then he drags the knife across my father’s throat.

The blood sprays in an arc, splashing across the concrete floor. My father makes a gurgling sound, his body convulsing against the restraints. He holds him still, watching the life drain out of him. Tate’s eyes finally leave mine to focus on the man he’s killing.

I should look away. I should feel something—horror, guilt, relief. Instead, I just watch. I watch as my father’s struggles grow weaker. I watch as the light fades from his eyes. I watch as the man who destroyed my childhood bleeds out on a warehouse floor.

Ivy doesn’t look away either. She watches with the same cold focus, her grip on my hand never loosening. This is the man who would have owned her. This is the man who tried to take her from Fox.

Fox stands behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders. I see the satisfaction in his expression. He wanted this kill, but watching Tate do this for me is enough. Justice is being served, and that’s all that matters.

And when it’s finally over, when my father’s body goes limp and still, I feel something I haven’t felt in my entire life.