38. Chapter 33
We’re in the training yard when they return. I only know they are back because I hear Cook yelling something to Commander, and the two of them rarely speak. The word gurney cracks across the yard, and I lower my rifle, turning to look at Viper next to me.
The way his expression turns to panic tells me he heard it too.
“Please don’t be them,” Breaker says and I glance his way. He looks scared too. Scared that our brothers wouldn’t return. That they wouldn’t make it to twenty like so many that came before us.
They’ve been gone so long, I think we all feared the worst. We’ve heard the whispers about the wilderness over the years. The set of brothers to go before Reaper, Hunter, and Seeker never returned. They were lost out there. The record”s we saw confirmed it.
No. Not lost.
They died.
“Get in formation!” Commander Maxim yells and we scatter, complying with his order as quickly as possible.
In the distance, I hear the familiar grate of the fence sliding back, allowing someone entrance to the front yard. I remember the sound from that first day I arrived and nearly every day after as supplies were brought in. The school is an old high security prison that used to house the criminally insane. Men who couldn’t be placed with other normal criminals. Men who tore their victims apart. We’ve all heard the stories.
I always wondered why Fallon chose this place to house the school. But maybe it’s fitting. He’s turning us more and more every day into cold, hard killers.
“Fuck,” Breaker hisses from next to me, drawing the word out so long that I glance at him. He lifts his chin in the direction of the entrance.
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to look.
“Get the body on the gurney,” Commander says.
The body. I press my eyes closed, fear and a slick sickness making my legs weak. It’s always amazed me how people are no longer people when they die. They’re just a body. But then that’s all that’s left. Whatever spark of life that makes us who we are disappears when the mind dies. We become just an empty shell.
“Who is it?” Viper asks, and I realize he’s as much of a coward as I am. Neither one of us can look. We don’t want to know if Reaper or Hunter has had their life snuffed out. If they are just simply a body now.
“You did well, son,” I hear Fallon say. “Was it an accident or a choice?”
When I hear the response, “Choice,” my knees buckle at Reaper’s voice. Strong but edged with something cruel.
“Your brother was stronger than we gave him credit for,” Fallon says, and I feel bile rising in my throat.
No. No. No.
Please don’t be Hunter.
If Hunter was the one to go, our unit would never survive. He’s the glue that keeps us all together. He’s the heart. The soul of us all. The only one who’s managed to go into the wilderness with his heart and mind still intact. Not even Reaper has kept all the pieces of himself from being turned hard and cold.
“Seeker will be missed,” I hear Reaper say, and my entire body melts with relief. We all know that one of them wouldn’t come back. I should feel bad that we’ve lost another brother, but I’m so glad it’s not Hunter or Reaper that I can’t feel bad.
“Hunter, Reaper,” Fallon says. “You’ve returned to us and are ready for your first mission.”
My eyes pop open and my head snaps in their direction. They just returned. They just survived the wilderness and they already have a mission?
I watch as Reaper takes the envelope from Fallon. His hand shakes, no doubt from exhaustion, from dehydration. Reaper rarely feels anything beyond rage, so I know it’s not fear or something as mild as trepidation. He tears open the envelope and that’s when I notice the blood. He’s covered in it. The entire front of his uniform drenched in rust-colored splashes. My eyes fall over the gurney and I see Seeker. His pale face. His empty, unseeing eyes. I have the sudden urge to go over and close them. Like he can read my thoughts, Hunter glances my way and delicately places his mask over our dead brother’s eyes. My body relaxes.
“I don’t understand,” Reaper says, staring down at the paper. “This says—”
“I’m well aware of what it says, son,” Fallon barks, his handsome face contorting.
Reaper’s spine straightens, and he folds the paper before tucking it back into the envelope. Fallon snatches it and turns to Hunter.
“You both leave tomorrow,” he says as he hands the envelope to Hunter.
When Hunter reads the note, his brows furrow and he glances at Reap, his arms falling to his sides. “This is our first mission?” he says, obviously in disbelief.
“We have no sides, my sons,” Fallon says. “We go where the money is, and the money is there.” He points to the paper hanging limply in Hunter’s hand. “It doesn’t matter who they are, it only matters if they pay.”
“But we just came—”
“Silence!” Fallon shouts, so loud we all freeze. “Did I train you to question me?”
“No, sir,” Hunter says.
Fallon spins and glares at Reaper. “Be ready to leave at dawn. Do not miss the flight.”
As our Father walks away, Commander tugs at the gurney and wheels Seeker inside toward the infirmary. Reaper and Hunter exchange a look, and as soon as Fallon and Maxim clear the yard, we three shoot forward. Breaker hooks his arm around Hunter’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug as Viper awkwardly pats Reaper on the shoulder. It earns him a dark glare, and he drops his hand.
As I walk forward, Reaper meets my eyes and shakes his head. He’s not happy.
“His choice?” I ask, watching Reaper snatch the paper from Hunter’s hand and ball it in a fist.
“He chose to be the one,” Hunter says.
The one.
Bile churns in my gut. We all know what that means.
Hunter comes to stand next to me and I look up at his dark eyes. He’s so tall, just like Reaper. “You really think I’d let that place best me?” Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a little lump of wood, offering it.
My eyes flicker from his open palm to his face, my brows knitting.
“Take it.”
I pick up the small figurine, examining it. It’s a crude carving of a… “Wolf?” I ask, running my thumb over the curled tail as I watch his lips lift into a grin.
“It’s not great, but it’s the first thing I’ve made.”
“I like it,” I say in a rush. “Did you see wolves?”
Hunter shakes his head. “Just in my dreams.”
The wood feels coarse, the edges rough, but I like the way he etched little lines in its tail like fur.
“They’re pack animals,” he says, voice low. My gaze darts up to his. “They’re loyal. Protective. Mean as shit when one of their own is threatened.”
At first I think he’s describing Reaper, but then I realize he’s talking about wolves.
“They hunt in packs. Live in packs.”
My fingers enclose on the carving.
“Fuck within their pack.”
My hand hesitates as I slip the figurine into my pocket. I lick my lips then say, “And they mate for life.”
Hunter nods. “They do.” He hooks an arm around my shoulders. Scratches and bruises mar his thick forearms. “Come on. I need some real food. My stomach is eating itself.”
“Was it bad?” I ask.
His step falters. “Yeah.” But then he pulls me close and chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
Hunter turns to face me. “You were scared for me.” I drop my gaze, focusing on the mud caking his boots. My breathing hitches when he shifts, his large hand squeezing the back of my neck, thumb skimming over my pulse. He leans down, so only I can hear, to whisper, “You really think I’d not return to you, little wolf?”
My gaze darts up to meet his. Hunter winks and steps away. I watch his strong back as he stalks across the yard, leaving me with a thundering heart.
Yes.I want to scream. Yes. I was scared you’d not come back, but I remain quiet, watching as Viper runs up to him and hooks his arm over his shoulders, pulling him down to press his forehead to his. He says something to Hunter, but Breaker’s loud crack of laughter keeps me from hearing.
I may be four years younger than him, not as experienced in life or in other ways like he and Reaper thanks to the girls in the village, but I know what this sinking feeling in my gut means. And I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to care too much. About any of them, but Hunter most of all.
“Fucking Christ,” Reaper curses, staring down at the paper. I snap my gaze to him, having forgotten he was standing just feet away.
Reaper tosses the paper to the muddy ground and turns toward our quarters. I lean down and pick up the paper, uncurling it, smoothing the wrinkles out so I can read the order.
Center of the page, in small letters, reads one name. I look up at Reaper’s back as he walks away. Reaper is cold. Distant. Calculating. So different from all of us. But this?
I don’t know if he has it in him to kill a little girl.