Page 87 of They All Own Me

Tatum looks up at me, those green eyes still wet with tears. "What?"

"You're real. Everything about him is fake - his career, his marriage, his whole damn life." I gesture to her casual clothes, the messy makeup. "But even now, beaten up and crying, you're more genuine than he's ever been."

"He's right," Isaac chimes in. "Thomas wouldn't know authenticity if it bit him in his designer-suited ass."

A small laugh escapes her.

"And here you are," I continue, "infiltrating mob operations, surviving kidnappings, cooking better than professional chefs. You're way too good for some trust fund brat playing at politics."

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just... I spent so long trying to be what he wanted."

"And now you get to be whoever the fuck you want," Isaac says.

"The real question is," Connor adds, pushing off the doorframe, "what do you want?"

She looks between the three of us, something shifting in her expression. "I want... I want to stop pretending. Stop being perfect all the time."

"Then don't," I say simply. "You don't owe him or anyone else that anymore."

"And I…" I can almost see her turn in on herself. "I just want to be something to someone…"

I watch her face, knowing what needs to be said. "When we found the house torn apart..." My voice trails off, remembering that moment of pure panic. "Fuck, I haven't felt fear like that in years."

Isaac shifts closer to her on the window seat. "You've gotten under our skin, you know that? All of us."

"What do you mean?" Tatum looks between us, confusion clear in those green eyes.

"He means we care about you," I say plainly. "More than we should. More than makes sense given what this started as."

"The way you just fit here," Connor gestures around. "Making breakfast, giving us shit about tracking blood on the floors..."

"Making us actually want to come home," Isaac finishes.

I run a hand over my beard, choosing my words carefully. "When we heard you screaming on that phone call, I wanted to burn that whole warehouse down with everyone in it."

"We all did," Conner confirms.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Stay with us."

"What?" Tatum's eyes widen.

"You heard me." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Stay. Here. With us."

Connor moves closer, his usual smirk replaced with something more serious. "All of us."

"The house feels empty without you here," he admits. "Even when you were just our 'hostage', you made it feel like..."

"Home," Isaac finishes.

I watch emotions play across her face - surprise, confusion, hope. "You don't have to answer now. But when this is over, when Thomas is dealt with..." I gesture between all of us. "This could be your home. If you want it."

"No more perfect politician's wife," Connor says. "Just you. With us."

"Cooking whatever the hell you want," Isaac adds. "Wearing yoga pants all day."

"Getting kidnapped by rival mobs," she jokes weakly, but I catch the tremor in her voice.

"Never again," I growl. "No one touches what's ours."

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