Page 107 of Roped

But I keep going, walking farther into the unfamiliar room. “Lynnie? That’s what you’re called?”

“How do you…”

If anything, I’m scaring her even more so I change tactics. “I’m… I’m Radisson’s friend.”

Her eyes go big. “Rad?”

My heart sings at the familiar nickname, but I tamp it down. “Yes. Yes, I’m… his friend. He told me about you, okay? I’m just… I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re—”

My words are cut off by a wheezing sound, and I clench my eyes shut in distress.

My unease is mirrored in Lynnie’s voice, her eyes skittering around. “What… what was that?”

Damn it. Damn it.

“Is there s-someone else here?” she continues, her voice panicky.

And I open my eyes because it’s time to take back control. Inhaling sharply, I begin, “Listen, I have to tell you something, okay?” I ignore Lynnie’s frightened eyes as she tries to push herself back into the couch and keep going. “You’re safe with me. You’re completely and absolutely safe with me. I know you don’t know me, and I know after everything that’s happened to you these past few weeks it may be hard for you to trust me, but I’m telling the truth. You’re absolutely safe, okay? Please believe me. That’s the first thing. And the second thing is”—another breath—“I love him. I love your brother. I’m in love with him, and… and I came here because he’s looking for you. Out there. He’s so worried about you. Everyone is, your entire family. And I wanted to… to help him.”

She’s breathing hard, her beautiful eyes bouncing back and forth between me, or rather in the general direction of me, and where that wheezing sound came from. Then, “I don’t… understand. How would you…”

This is the hard part, but I say it anyway. “You were taken because of me. They took you because they wanted me. They wanted your brother”—I take in a shaky breath—“to bring me to them.”

My words are met with silence for a long moment before she asks, her breaths easing slightly, “Why do they want you?”

“For the land,” I say, my voice resigned.

She licks her lips and keeps going, “But… I still don’t understand. Who are you? What land? Why involve my brother in this? It doesn’t… it doesn’t make sense. He’s not… He’s a good person. He’s…”

I clench my eyes shut again. I can’t tell if it’s from anger at what I finally know or devastation. That these people used my Radisson’s pain to get what they wanted. They used his grief to play a game for their own gain. They used him. My father wasn’t happy just killing his family and destroying every chance of happiness; he also wanted to milk it to get the land of his dreams.

Opening my eyes, I wipe the tears that have fallen down my cheeks and say the hardest part of all of this: “Because my name is Peyton Turner. And I’m Hank Turner’s daughter.” Before Lynnie can say anything else, I at last give her the whole picture. “And he’s here, my father. In the room. With us.” Lynnie’s eyes pop wider than before and her breathing goes back to being choppy, but I continue, “You have to know he can’t do anything to you. I won’t let him, and he’s in a—”

“He killed my parents,” she practically screams. “He—”

“I know, but—”

“And he said he was going to kill my brother.”

That gives me pause. “What?”

Instead of answering me, though, she closes her eyes, her chest going up and down violently.

My father is looking at her with so much hatred, his own breathing rapid. But there’s a familiarity to it, to his hatred and anger. As in, he knows her somehow and not just because he killed her entire family as collateral damage in his never-ending war for the Grayson land.

My heart in my throat, I direct my next question to him: “What the fuck is she talking about? Why would you say that to her? When did you say that to her?” His eyes come back to me, hateful and hard, and somehow, the words slip out before I can think them through. “Figure out a way to answer me, you fucking piece of shit, or I’ll step on that breathing tube of yours and finish what your BFF out there started. Do you understand me?”

For a few seconds after I finish, I’m terrified. I’ve never spoken to him in this way. I’ve never, not once, confronted my father about anything. Not after that one time back when I was ten and I caught him in the most despicable act toward a woman that a man can commit. I’m afraid he’ll do something in retaliation; do every bad thing he’s promised to do if I ever put a toe out of line. Hurt everyone I love, my mom, Reverie, even Radisson.

But look at him. Look at him, trapped in here with me. Look at him, being a fucking prisoner, bested at his own game by someone more evil than him. And God, it feels good. It feels good that he’s getting what he deserves. It may not last long. He may go back to being all powerful tomorrow, trying to control the lives of everyone around him. But he’s done controlling mine. He’s done intimidating me.

He’s done fucking with me.

Looking him in his monstrous eyes, I continue, “I’ll kill you, you understand that? I’ll fucking end you. For saying that about my Radisson and doing every evil thing you’ve ever done to him and his family. I’ll kill you like I should’ve killed you when I was ten.”

“I saw him.”

Lakelyn’s words break our stare-down, and I turn to look at her. “What?”