Page 107 of Twisted Little Game

“Hunter,” he says, looking concerned as he glances up at us. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby,” Hunter says, squeezing Rayne’s arm. “Have you seen anyone in the house tonight who doesn’t belong here?”

“There’s barely anyone here,” Rayne says. “Well, there was a guy who came to the door and said he had a note for Roman. Told me to just leave it in his room for him, so I put it on his bed. Is everything good?”

“Where did the person go?” I demand immediately.

“The guy at the door? He just gave me the note and left. It wasn’t anyone bad. Looked like a nerdy freshman, or something. Didn’t seem like a problem, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You saw him walk away? Down Red Row?” I ask.

“Yes. He left. One hundred percent.”

“We need to check the camera footage, right now.”

“What happened?” Rayne says.

“Tate isn’t safe,” Hunter explains.

Rayne frowns. “But I thought that note was for Roman.”

I glance at Tate and my heart freezes.

He’s standing there, looking down at the knife I gave him with a thousand-yard stare.

“Nyet,” I whisper, moving to take the knife from his hands and toss it over onto the coffee table. It clatters as I pull Tate into a close hug, gripping the back of his head tight in my hand. “Just breathe, beauty. Breathe for me.”

When I feel his hand shake, the rest of the world disappears.

I tilt Tate’s head back and lean in to kiss his cheek. Two kisses on one side, then two on the other. He sighs against me, and I lean my forehead on his, then press my lips against his.

I’m dimly aware of the fact that Rayne and Hunter are standing right there.

But it doesn’t make a shred of difference to me right now.

“I’m tired of causing problems,” Tate whispers. “For everyone around me.”

“You are not trouble. You are… you are joy, Tate.”

He puffs out a soft laugh as I lean back, still holding him in my arms.

“Thank you.”

Someone like me can never be redeemed, and the best bet I have is just to try protecting the people around me who truly are good people. I need to make sure Tate gets to enjoy his life, exactly as he deserves.

When I pull away from him, Rayne and Hunter are leaning on the wall, and Rayne reaches out to pull me into a quick hug, too.

If they are shocked to see what they just saw, they don’t show it.

And all I feel is proud.

“We’re going to find this guy,” Hunter tells Tate. “You’re no burden, Tate. I live for this shit, and nobody is going to fuck with a single soul in this house.”

“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing the knife off of the table and gently giving it to Tate again. “We need the footage. Now.”

16

Tate