Chapter 5 Thorne
CHAPTER FIVE
THORNE
My footfalls drummed down the lengthy corridor I’d almost come to know better than the back of my hand.
Shadows lined it, pressing in with an encroaching threat to swallow me whole.
It wasn’t the first time I’d walked down this hallway, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But the anxiety that stewed within me never seemed to settle, no matter how many times I’d wandered down its taunting length and toward the door responsible for my fate.
Andrew Valens was a ruthless man; one of the only individuals I feared.
He handled his men like chess pieces, placing us wherever he’d get the most benefit and crafting us into the beings he believed were fully capable of standing beside him.
There wasn’t a single soldier who survived his wrath without becoming the monster he wished them to be.
And if they somehow escaped his asphyxiating hold, still carrying their unique traits in the hellscape he commanded, he killed them without so much as batting an eye.
That was General Valens’ darkness, a secret only I knew, and a secret he’d made me experience firsthand.
I never wanted to become the man he’d molded me into, but survival called for obedience.
Where I’d once been as equally defiant as Oren, I no longer was, rendered into nothing more than his lapdog, willing to do as he pleased when he pleased for the sake of guarding myself.
That spark, that fucking fire in Oren’s eyes, terrified me because I knew that if I couldn’t snuff it out, his father would.
Why did I even care? Perhaps it was because I sympathized with him, understood the nuances of the perpetual anguish in his faded blue irises. Or maybe it was because I was breaking myself.
Ultimately, like called to like, and he and I were far too similar than I even wanted to acknowledge. Recognizing it meant that Andrew Valens had sniffed out my remaining weakness: the very idea of breaking someone who was just as innocent and lively as I’d once been.
And I just… I couldn’t.
Inhaling deeply, I stilled once I reached the large mahogany doors.
My fingers curled inward, and I basked in the sensation of my nails digging into my flesh, the only thing that was ever capable of preventing my hands from trembling.
Drawing out my exhale, I lifted my arm, knocking on the door with the same rhythm I’d mastered during my nearly decade of servitude.
“Enter,” came the voice I’d heard slaughter men with a single command. A voice I’d imagined silencing countless times, but there’s a difference between reality and ignorance.
My palm flattened against its smooth surface, and I nudged the door open to reveal the perfectly curated mirage behind it.
General Valens’ office was more than put together; it was pristine.
The concept of life vanished as soon as you crossed the threshold, every speck of dust a mere afterthought in his world.
Part of me wondered if he’d kept it that way as a mask to his disgusting demeanor or his need to know if anyone had entered his space without his permission.
Pity any poor bastard who was stupid enough to try.
There was never a book out of place on the two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that sat behind his dark oak desk, nor was there ever a crumb or leftover sign of life on the regal rug positioned in the center of the room.
His desk was free of any mess, the various stacks of paperwork organized so they all nestled against one another flush.
Various operative plans were pinned on the bulletin board to his left, each of them telling stories every part of me wished were never true.
My gaze danced between the two leather-back, blood red chairs positioned across from his metaphorical throne. Electing to avoid getting any closer to him, I fell into the stance he’d ingrained in every corner of my fractured soul: arms behind my back, chest out, and gaze downcast at the ground.
There was no eye contact with him, not until he demanded it, and certainly not if you wished to continue breathing.
“Sir, I wanted to report back about this morning’s training with your son.”
The shuffle of papers pushed me further, his silence a way to keep me talking. He was a man of few words, but those he spoke were detrimental, an antecedent to something far worse.
“Rounds ran a bit longer this morning due to Oren’s insubordination during our early morning session.
He quickly learned the consequences that come alongside interrupting those of higher command, especially when punishments for failed expectations are underway.
” My jaw feathered as I worked to steady my nerves before continuing, “Simon is currently being treated in the infirmary, and your son joined him after he finished conditioning. The former’s condition includes a broken nose and cheekbone, and the latter…
Two broken ribs. He still completed his mile, but I am confident I’ve cracked one of his emotional walls, sir. ”
“Graves.” At his cue, my gaze lifted to his weathered features.
His gentle disposition was a scapegoat for the horrors etched into his wrinkles—one for every kill he’d disposed of in secret, a ruthless display of carnage hidden behind a placid smile.
His hair was white and kept short to aid the noble appearance he required of any of his men.
His beard was trimmed, not a hair out of place, like his office.
He delighted in order, and chaos would not suit him in his wardrobe either.
Dressed in a tailored dark blue jacket, he was adorned with various badges, none of which he earned legitimately. While he was able to maintain his status in strength, he was a smart enough man to resort to tricks that helped him climb the ranks. The four stars on his shoulder displayed just that.
He shoved the papers to the side, folding his hands as he often did to display a deep displeasure. “I didn’t ask for one wall. I asked for all of them. My son is familiar with beatings, so two broken ribs aren’t a threshold I’m willing to honor.”
Biting my cheek, my lineage bloomed, and I swallowed it in an attempt to ground myself. “I understand, General. Though, as you’re well acquainted, your son’s stubbornness is nearly impenetrable. I leveraged the tactics you suggested and wanted to report that they seem to be sufficient.”
“Seem?” His head tilted an inch, blue eyes narrowing reducing any resemblance to Oren.
“Are sufficient,” I corrected. “I apologize for misspeaking, sir.”
He scoffed, leaning back into his chair.
“I’m fully aware of my son’s stubbornness.
I don’t need a recall of your struggles.
What I want is his silence, his obedience, his ability to take direction.
If you’re struggling to do so, our deal still stands.
Iraq needs men, and who am I to deny them an able-bodied person such as Matthew? ”
The reply came from me faster than I could stop it, something about Oren’s presence reigniting my defiance.
“I am getting those results. This session rendered him silent and shoved him toward obedience. If you’re as acquainted as you believe, then you’d understand that this case—your son—will not be an overnight fix.
Hell, that’s why he’s here, isn’t it? Because you’ve tried for years and haven’t been able to get him to fall in line? ”
Eerie quiet filled the office before the shuffle of his chair answered. He stood, palms flattening on the desk as he leaned forward to announce whatever punishment I’d earned. “Getting does not equal results. I don’t expect an overnight fix, but I expect results to—”
Before he could continue, I did one of the things I knew I shouldn’t have, knew better not to—I cut him off. “Respectfully, General, what obedience do you have to speak of when it comes to him? Getting is a step in the right direction, a step closer to these results you desire.”
General Andrew Valens smiled, a flash of white I knew solidified the impossibility of walking out of here unscathed.
Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanked me down with the same brunt force I’d inflicted on his son, my face slamming into the desk.
Papers scattered as my cheek smashed into the top of his desk, his hand planting me there until he willed it to be over.
“If I wanted to be talked back to, I’d offer a meeting with my son. I expect order, and at this rate, I’ll fucking replace you with my son and ship Matthew out tomorrow.”
Thrashing against him, I seethed. “Why? Because you’re too cowardly, too old to press for obedience as you once have?
Matthew is an asset to your son’s cooperation; get rid of him, and I will spit at your fucking feet.
You want me to follow orders? Take him out, and you’ll have nothing, and I’ll have nothing to lose. ”
“Nothing to lose?” he said as his fist collided with my face. “It sounds like you have everything to lose. I made sure everyone you fucking cared for disappeared. Do you want the same to happen to Matthew?”
Spitting up a mouthful of blood, I craned my head just enough to look at him. “What the fuck are you insinuating? My men died on the battlefield. My men died in war, honoring our country, not by your tainted hands.”
“Honor? Their deaths were purposeful, meant to serve in your breaking. Extorting weaknesses is what we do, and they are yours now. You forgot your reasoning on their backs, and total obedience requires the elimination of such… issues with loyalty.”
Shock flooded my system, then pure, utter rage washed over me. “Y-You didn’t…” I breathed, my hands twitching with every desire to inflict harm, to kill this son of a bitch. Reaching down to my utility belt, my fingers brushed the hilt of my preferred blade. “You vile…corrupt…piece of shit!”