Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
OREN
Excessive pressure on my shoulders snapped my eyes open as I shoved away whoever the hell decided to wake me up.
“What the fuck?” I grumbled, rubbing the corners of my eyes with a ferocity no one should experience. It took forever to gain my bearings, and once a familiar hazel gaze met mine, I immediately raised my hands. “Fuck, sorry, Simon.”
“Dude, you’ve got ten minutes until we have to be out there. Liam already left, but I didn’t want you to have to experience the brunt of Throne’s frustration alone if you happened to be late.”
“Shit.”
Shit.
I scrambled out of bed, the white sheet tangling around my feet as I hopped out of the mess I’d wound up in.
“Which uniform?”
Panic didn’t begin to describe the desperation in my tone. It was one thing to elicit a reaction from the man, but I didn’t want to submit to his torture if I could avoid it willingly.
Clad in my boxers, I knew I looked pathetic as I stared at Simon, impatiently waiting, until I realized he was wearing the goddamn uniform I needed to be in. God, I was tired, and it was eating at my ability to think.
I grabbed the shirt with the emblem, tugging it over my head before slipping on the dark camouflage pants.
The boots were a struggle, but with Simon’s hurried encouragement, I managed to lace them just enough to start running.
And hell, did we both run to the training area where Thorne would be arriving any minute.
Liam stood next to Lucas, the Vipers’ sixth squad member, and waved us over. He pointed at his waist, and with a quick tuck of my shirt, he gave me a stupid thumbs up.
Simon nudged me into line with them, hinting at the correct stance—arms behind our backs, shoulders square, eyes at the skyline. God, Thorne really was a grade-A asshole.
As if my thoughts were his summoning, the doors we’d run through seconds ago opened, and out strolled the cocky son of a bitch.
The uniform he wore was similar to ours: dark camouflage and long-sleeved, with the unit's emblem etched into a shoulder patch instead of the chest. But it wasn’t the Viper's appearance that sent my eyes rolling; it was his title slapped straight on his chest as if the sight of it would somehow make me change my mind on how little respect he deserved.
Another male walked beside him, clad similarly.
The two kept pace with one another as if it were a rehearsal they’d practiced thousands of times.
His hair was short and sandy blonde, neither buzzed nor particularly long.
As they approached, his counterpart said something, and for the first time, a genuine smile coated Thorne’s features.
But just as soon as it was there, it was gone.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted as the gap between them and us ceased. “Happy to see you were all able to roll yourselves out of bed this morning for a prompt arrival.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the pompous attitude he carried all of a sudden.
A complete contrast to the hot-headed man I’d met yesterday.
It also didn’t help that Simon was scrunching his nose, the corner of his lip lifting ever so slightly to indicate that he, too, was struggling to keep his composure under the circumstances.
A break in character now would be stupid, and while I liked to poke fun, I wasn’t an idiot.
Thorne’s wannabe stepped up to me, and I couldn’t read his facial expression at all. “Interesting,” was all he said before finding himself beside the man with a god complex that might rival my father's.
My cheek was raw, but I was more intrigued by the fact that he didn’t call me out to Graves, especially because—
“Simon.”
“Yes?” He stepped forward, tilting his head to stare at them both.
The man who’d assessed me pressed his thumb and pointer finger against the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. “Graves?”
Without uttering a word, Thorne merely dipped his chin. Not electing to move from his position, it became clear that the motion was an order for the man he’d arrived with.
Another nod solidified Simon’s fate. Thorne’s right-hand bitch smiled and parted his lips to say one word. “Drop.”
On command, Simon’s smile faded as he started the most intense pushups I’d ever witnessed, face an inch from smacking into the dirt.
It was hot as shit, my shirt clinging to the sweat forming across my back from standing.
And I was fit, but hell, even I’d be winded after a couple sets in this heat.
There was no pause, no relief for Simon as Thorne began talking in that condescending tone.
“Who dressed you this morning, soldier? Your pitiful new roommate?” His honey eyes swept to me, his scowl beyond prevalent.
“You’d think you yourself were the worthless newb of the group.
Do you think our unit could use a reminder on how to dress, considering your shirt remains untucked?
How to show up promptly? We are known for a reason, and you are the most pathetic example of what it means to be a part of this fucking squadron. ”
“No, Commander. I dressed myself, and I’m a terribly pathetic example on the squadron,” Simon agreed, his words barely audible.
If I weren’t biting my cheek, my jaw would’ve cracked at how quickly he’d agreed to degradation. He didn’t seem like that in the gym, and yet, he’d allowed Graves to torment his integrity when it wasn’t his fucking fault.
My lips parted, and I knew I was screwed by the time the sentence flies, but it’s not right. “It’s my fault, dipshit, that his shirt is in disarray. Simon helped me get ready this morning since the instructions seem to be missing.”
Coughing ensued from the men beside me, even the man beside the asshole, but I wasn’t terrified. I wasn’t scared, because they hadn’t grown up with my father, and I sure as hell was not going to be intimidated by someone who wants to act like him.
Thorne smiled, his gaze flashing with something beyond the definition of malicious. Taking a step forward, he glanced over at his lapdog. “Matthew, contain Valens. I think it’s time we showed this worthless mutt how we handle interruptions on this squad.”
“Contain? What bull—”
Pain radiated across my cheekbone before I could register that I was face down in the dirt with a direct view of Simon. I kicked against the ground, but fucking hell, this Matthew guy was strong, and I struggled for even an inch to breathe.
I managed to collect enough air to expel it back to Graves, adding spite. “Can’t hit a guy while he’s standing?”
Matthew dug his elbow into my spine, and I grunted at the sharp pain.
Thorne’s boots crossed my line of vision, and before I could even attempt to struggle again, his foot slammed into Simon’s knee, knocking him to the ground with unrelenting ease.
“Let me make myself clear to you, Valens, since you seem to have a fucking difficult time following the chain of command.” The snap of bone followed his statement as he kicked Simon in the face, forcing him to the ground, facing me.
“Interruptions get men killed on the battlefield. Opposing orders can bloody the hands of your teammates, whom you’ve vowed to protect.
Let this be your one and only fucking lesson. ”
“What… What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” I shouted as Matthew kept his grip, forcing me to look at the crimson pooling from Simon.
Not once had someone else taken a beating for the shit I did. That’s not how it worked… not how it was supposed to work.
Simon spat blood from his mouth, but he didn’t move. Didn’t waver as I stared in a state of disbelief and horror.
“You think mouthing off to me will earn you a rightful punishment? The attention you so desperately seek?” Graves yelled, grabbing a fistful of Simon’s shirt before driving his fist into the center of his face.
His lineage splattered across the ground, staining it with a guilt I knew would never wash away.
A groan of agony tumbled from between Simon’s parted lips, Thorne silencing him with yet another blow.
“Newsflash, Valens. I am well-equipped to handle people like you.”
My cheek pressed into the dirt, iron lingering in the air from the amount of crimson staining the once pristine area. A frustrated groan left me as my knees refused to propel me upward. I parted my lips, but Matthew’s hold tightened.
His breath tickled my ear as he leaned close. “For god’s sake, shut the fuck up. You made a mistake. Own that shit by keeping your mouth quiet,” he whispered before slamming my head back against the ground.
I didn’t want to listen to this fucking display of command, but Thorne’s bitch warned me, and the complete shock of it rendered me silent. That, and the scarlet spreading to stain my pants. I bit my lip, hard, to keep from speaking, but I hoped the glower in my eyes said everything I couldn’t.
Three more hits came, back to back, cartilage cracking and broken whimpers slipping uncontrolled from Simon.
Thorne pulled his hand back once more but elected to drop it to his side before yanking Simon toward him to whisper something.
He shoved his bloodied and beaten body back to the ground as if he were nothing, no one.
Pushing himself up from the ground, his towering frame blocked out the sunlight’s relentless assault. His tongue danced across his canines as he stepped forward, his boots beginning their progression toward me.
Without so much as looking over his shoulder, he uttered his command. “Lucas, take Simon to the infirmary. Now.”
The red-headed male gave the commander a quick nod before tossing Simon over his shoulder with ease, the impact of Thorne’s punishment remaining in the pile of blood and the crimson trail following them.