Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OREN
Some people said sunrises were beautiful, a colorful expansion of yellow, orange, and pink hues that warmed the earth like a dawning kiss.
I used to be one of them; sunrises were my favorite to paint because of the brilliance you could capture, but what brilliance was left when it came in addition to black ink?
I wanted to burn his letter the moment I saw it resting on the nightstand after I’d returned from scouring the entire base for them. Waking up to an empty bed wasn’t surprising, but the quiet of the room was.
When it continued past Matt and Thorne’s room into the space my friends should’ve been in, I knew. I knew he’d left me behind, the pieces of his character crumbling.
I wrecked the room, every ounce of betrayal, anger, and wrath I was experiencing flooding into my hands as I tossed mattresses, sheets… even the clothes they’d left behind.
It wasn’t enough. Fuck, it wasn’t enough as I stumbled back into Thorne’s room. He kept his space neat, void of pictures and collectibles, but I didn’t care. I searched his goddamn room for something to break as he’d done to me.
He’d betrayed me for the sake of his enjoyment, just like my father had my whole life. Why else had he left me behind after tending to me so gently? After brushing my tears and filling me with a reason to live that I thought had disappeared long ago?
He’d known. All last night as he held me… He’d fucking known.
My hand dug in his drawer until a small box appeared, covered in a thin layer of dust. It was a simple wooden box, with no design etched into the wood, but when I shoved the top open, pictures of his family appeared, edges burnt from the fire that’d stolen those he loved.
I took a shaky breath as I grabbed one.
If he wanted someone rational, he never should’ve fucking messed with me.
I ripped it.
Ripped it to fucking pieces, and not an ounce of remorse flooded my system. I was returning the favor like the night he’d broken me for orders.
Well, these were my goddamn orders—orders to make Thorne fucking beg for mercy as I destroyed the pictures in the box, scattering them on his bed.
I should have stopped there, but to have someone comfort your soul only to snatch it all away again was an indescribable feeling of betrayal and loss.
I burned the letter from his father with one of his lighters and added the photo of his mom and sister from his bulletin board to the bed.
And what does someone do after they’ve sought revenge? They cry. And I did cry as I chucked the lighter, the sound hardly registering as his betrayal sank deep.
He left me.
He left me alone with my father, and there was no worse hell.
I thought I was trapped before, but this? To be trapped with no one, to lose those who had the decency to comfort me?
Oren Valens didn’t exist anymore, thanks to Thorne Graves.
The artist, the jokester, the defiant man… all of those shades were shoved into a box I wouldn’t access any longer.
No.
I wouldn’t be weak. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t fall for something as stupid as love because on the outside it looked harmless, but on the inside?
It was full of rot.
I slumped in one of my father’s chairs, my chin resting on my closed fist as I waited for him to acknowledge me. I’d slithered my way into his office after wrecking two rooms and punching the hell out of the bag in the gym.
None of it helped. None of it made a difference, so why try to fight it?
Finally, lowering the paperwork he’d continued to scan despite my arrival, he looked at me. “Is there something you need, son?”
“I just…” What did I need? “I don’t… no, I refuse to be labelled as weak,” I said, matching my father’s stare with an ire I hoped he appreciated. “I’m tired of failing. I’m tired of being worthless, and I’m tired of living like this.”
His head cocked, his soulless gaze igniting with newfound interest. “Is this because your lovely commander decided to leave you here while they went to Venezuela? The man who stood in my office as he informed me of his decision, while speaking rather…poorly of you?”
I scoffed. “He’s not fucking lovely. He’s not fucking anything.”
Poorly? Had he spoken of me to him? Why was I not surprised? A game. I’d called it and should’ve run with my gut feeling, because that’s all this had ever been. A game of chess they had masterly laid out to make sure I always arrived here… broken.
“I find him inherently lovely. His opinions on your desire to go to art school aligned with my own. Hell, he even went far enough to speak on your worthlessness as a human—stated that you were nothing more than a waste of space he didn’t have the time for.”
For once, can you not make shit difficult?
He’d never cared. Not one fucking bit. A tool is only as useful as its outcome, and fuck, I guess I was a worthless one.
I gritted my teeth as I gave my dad a nod. “It’s true. I am a waste of space. Art school? Useless. But I want to change. I don’t want him to come back and see me as some pitiful fucker he can toy with. I want to break him… to be strong enough to hold my own.”
“You want to break Thorne Graves?” he laughed, the sound a mockery. “And how in the hell do you plan on doing that?”
I slapped my hands against his desk, standing as I leaned over to stare into the man I’d once been too terrified to even glance at.
“I’ll train, fight, hell, break a recruit if it means I’ll become stronger.
I’m desperate, Dad, and fucking hell, I’m willing to do anything to achieve it.
Besides, isn’t this the son you’ve always wanted?
A cold-hearted bitch who follows orders without fail, without question? ”
He laughed, pushing himself up from where he sat.
“Sit down,” he commanded, and I listened, dropping back into the chair to show him just how serious I was.
Walking past me, he opened a cupboard, the clink of glass following.
“Thorne Graves is a complicated man, as I’m sure you’ve come to learn.
He does what he believes will give him the upper hand in life, even if the consequences are dire. ”
He came into my peripheral, setting an empty glass in front of me while holding another in his hand alongside a bottle of scotch.
“It took years for me to break him into the man he is, and the first two years of his service he spent in the cells below this compound.” Spinning the cap off, he filled my glass first. “I thought the time had been plenty, for his service was perfected after that. He killed whoever I wished, whenever I wished, and followed orders without hesitation. That was until you showed up, his defiance returning with a strain far less curable than before.”
The amber liquid flowed from the bottle into his glass before he set it aside and lifted the drink to his lips.
“He understands the nuances of my expectations, as well as the outcomes if he happens to falter in any way.” A sip.
“If you wish to sign your obedience to me, and your desires lie with harming the commander who’s stood by my side for a decade, then you will prove yourself to me when he returns.
If there is any flaw during this mission in Venezuela, he will be sent back underground, and you will run his sessions as you see fit.
” Gesturing toward the drink he’d poured for me, he lifted a brow. “That is how you will become strong.”
I lifted the glass, swallowing a significant mouthful before meeting cerulean once more. “What a fucking pleasure.”
Part of me still wavered, the weak points I needed to eradicate. If breaking Thorne would remove it forever, then so be it. I needed to tell myself that, because otherwise I’d focus too long on how he’d made me feel, how he’d let me devour him while hating me secretly.
He was a byproduct of my father, and now it was my turn to crack his facade. To make him cry, beg, fucking whimper like he’d made me since the moment I met him.
I took another sip. “I’ll prove to you I won’t falter. I’ll be better than Thorne ever fucking was.”
He smirked, almost as if he’d planned to pit us against one another since the beginning, but I didn’t fucking care anymore—if he had, he’d won.
“Good. I look forward to your dedication. It’s good to have you back, son.”
“I’m glad to be back,” I said, tilting my head back to swallow the rest of his offering before placing the empty glass on his desk. A promise and sacrifice woven into one.