Chapter 21 Thorne
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THORNE
Sunlight danced through the curtains, sweeping a golden beacon of light through the space.
Beside me, Oren remained asleep, tangled up in the blanket with his head resting on my chest. His citrus, floral scent graced me, and I devoured it.
Combing my fingers through his decently grown hair, I winched as my pads grazed over the large knot on his forehead.
He groaned into the touch, nuzzling against me, and that frown quickly shifted into a soft smile.
It was as if the world saw him in the same manner as I did: breathtakingly beautiful in such unorthodox ways, ways I would never tire of exploring.
Even though I successfully talked him off the ledge, I knew the journey for us had only just begun.
Because of my negligence, he’d landed in a position I never wished for him.
One that required him to pull on the mask I’d worn for over nearly a decade, a mask I’d come to loathe almost as much as my own existence.
And now? I despised it far more than I ever had, because it had already snuffed out some of his light.
I knew it would only continue to do so; he had a role to play if we wanted to get out of here alive.
And while I’d played General Valens just as I always did—like a fucking incompetent fiddle—if Oren’s father found out that I’d cracked him back open, there was no telling what he would do if we failed to stop him first.
Oren stirred, his head angling between the crook of my arm, a small curl to his lips. “Think I’m dreaming cause you’re still here.”
Chuckling, I swept my fingers under his chin, pulling his face toward mine. My lips met his without hesitation, a soft, lingering kiss that I only hoped he’d carry with him for the rest of the day. “You’re not dreaming, dove. I am as real as the day is, which, speaking of. It’s nearly seven.”
He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yeah? Well, how about…” His eyes snapped open, sitting straight as the warmth from his body left mine. “Seven?”
“Yes, seven.” My jaw feathered with the admittance, knowing that my unwillingness to disturb his sleep had undoubtedly made us both late for training. “You needed the rest, and I couldn’t bring myself to—”
“My father is going to be there!” Oren clamored from the bed, haste ridden in his muscles as he put on his clothes without any type of ease. “He wanted… he wanted to see my first training session, and I’m late. With you.”
Pushing myself up, I wrapped my fingers around his arm, pulling him back toward me. Clad in only my briefs, the slap of our bare skin meeting echoed through the room. “I have an idea. And you’re going to hate it.”
He craned his neck to look at me. “Thorne…”
“I was late, disobedient. You had to come and wake me up, but to make it believable, Oren...” I shook my head, my gaze meeting his dull blue irises. “You’re going to have to make it clear that you punished me for my failure. It’s the only way your father will take your word. He needs visual proof.”
He backed away, fists shaking but not from anger. “I don’t… I can’t—I don’t want to put on the mask.” His chest rose and fell sporadically, those cerulean eyes darkening further. “I could never hurt you again.”
I grabbed his hands, sinking down to my knees in front of him. “And I believe you, Oren. But there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t take. If we go out there together without a clear story, without proof, there is no telling what your father will do to test your loyalties.”
“But… but why does it have to be you?” His voice cracked, his palms lifting from mine to cradle my cheeks. “Why is it always you? I fucked up and put myself in this position, not you. So why… why—”
“Breathe,” I whispered, rubbing my thumbs across his fingers.
“It has to be me because if it’s not… It’ll be Liam or Matthew.
Oren, now that you’re a commander, you’re an asset.
Your father is no longer interested in harming you physically, only mentally, to ensure you follow his commands.
And he will use everyone he can against you. ”
He shook his head, but the scowl etched on his face told a different story. “I can… I can think of something else that doesn’t involve—”
“No! You can’t!” I screamed, squeezing his hands tighter. “Oren, I know. I fucking know. I’ve been in your shoes, and believe me, you do not want to experience what I have at the hands of disobedience. Please. Just trust me.”
“I don’t want it anymore,” he pleaded.
“I know, baby. I know.” My heart shattered alongside the words I uttered.
“But we have to play his game if we ever want a chance at escape, at a life together outside of this. If we don’t, then he will strip you of everything, of everyone you care for until there is nothing left.
He will kill Simon. He will kill Liam. He will kill Matthew. And he will kill me.”
He took a step back, his hands dropping at his sides. When his gaze lifted, life was stitched into the hues of his eyes once more. “I-I’ll try… but Thorne, I don’t think my body will let me hit you.” His fingers curled and uncurled, his scowl deepening. “You might… might have to make me angry.”
My throat bobbed, because I understood his dilemma far more than he realized.
I’d been in his position even after his father had shattered my identity in those dungeons, unable to harm those I cared for.
I’d known that once I did, there was no going back to the man I was.
My refusal led to everything I warned Oren about: men being executed in front of my eyes as I was forced to watch their torture until their bodies caved and their lives faded.
Biting my cheek, I exhaled, slipping on the mask I’d worn like a second skin for far too long. “You want to know what I told your dad before we left for Venezuela?”
None of it. I meant none of it.
He shook his head, but he’d asked for this. Asked for me to abuse him once more.
“I told him how pathetic it was that you’d even try to obtain a degree in art. Art, Oren? A worthless and wasteless piece of paper that would’ve merely rotted alongside your existence.”
“Thorne, it’s not working. I know you don’t mean this shit. I don’t know…” He glanced away, his fingers uncurling.
So I dug further.
“Do you know how broken Liam was when he saw Simon after that explosion? Fucking inept dumbass shouldn’t have been there”
“What do you mean? They were with you. My father lied about you going rogue to hurt me.”
“I did go rogue, and those fucking idiots followed me,” I growled. “Ultimately, it’s Simon’s fucking fault he lost his leg.”
Oren met my gaze. “How bad is it? I didn’t really see…” There it was, a crack in his demeanor.
“From just above the knee,” I confirmed.
“If he would’ve listened to me, if they would’ve listened to me, then it never would’ve happened.
All they did was get in the way, and Simon was stupid enough to assume the area was clear.
And guess what? He was the one who stepped on that mine. He did it to himself.”
I wanted to vomit.
“You’re lying to make me angry. He didn’t… didn’t lose his leg.” Another blow and he’d let go, his fists already rising.
“He did. And you want to know what else? He’s been honorably discharged. He is no longer part of Special Operations and never will be again because of his own worth—”
Oren struck.
His fist collided with my jaw, a solid hit he must have learned under his father’s tutelage, because it reminded me too much of mine.
Bracing his hands on my shoulders, his knee thrust into my stomach as I doubled over on instinct.
Agony flooded my senses, the stitched wound in my side screaming beneath his onslaught.
Swallowing a groan, I looked up at him. A perfectly timed punch landed on my cheek, twisting my head with enough force to look at the bed.
His breathing was erratic, the anger flooding from his system, but it wasn’t enough to please his father.
Laughing, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, blood coating my skin.
“His worth in the ranks was never exceptional. If anything, I took him on that mission to see if he stood a chance in navigating desolation. Honestly, he was only another body I was willing to sacrifice to ensure we fulfilled your father’s orders. ”
There was no hesitation as his foot met my chest, shoving me back with enough force to hit the nightstand.
My back cracked against it, only to be met with another blow to the face.
Coughing up a mouthful of blood, I looked up at him beneath hooded brows.
My jaw feathered as I leaned against the wall, resting my head on it as I struggled to catch my breath.
“What? You didn’t think I’d dispose of them?
Simply because they're your friends?” A broken wheeze escaped me, encasing the chuckle I forced. “Liam will be next.”
“D-Don’t touch Liam,” he spat, tears welling in his eyes as his boot collided with my side. The same side he continually hounded. His father had taught him well.
The force behind the kick was enough to rip a cry of agony from my throat; the sensitivity of the wound was too much for me to swallow. “F-Fuck,” I groaned, struggling to lift a shaking hand to it.
I felt the warmth immediately and knew that if Oren saw how far he’d gone, that he’d torn the stitches, he wouldn’t make it out to the training yard. He’d fall apart all over again in this room, and that wasn’t something he could afford if we wanted to keep up the ploy we were feeding his father.
Whether it was my cry of agony or the groan that slipped, Oren’s breathing lowered, his hands trembling once more. The rage, the fury, the wrath the general had instilled in him was still there, but it was dampened by my outward expression of pain.
“O-Oren.” Placing my other hand on the ground, I tried to push myself up, but failed.
His mask crumbled, replaced by pure terror that I never wanted to see again, but I knew would continue as long as his father remained untouchable.
“Thorne… o-oh… I didn’t, I didn’t mean—” He dropped to his knees, his hands not sure where to go on my body as he stared, frozen.
“S-Stop… It’s not your fault,” I said as I grabbed his wrist. “We need to go. We’ve wasted enough time, and I can guarantee your father has grown impatient…”
His lip trembled, but he bit it, the sharpness returning to his features. “O-Okay.” He stood, extending a hand to my frame. “Please take it.”
Without a moment of hesitation, I did, allowing him to help me off the ground. Groaning in pain, I came to stand, gesturing toward the heap of clothing beside the bed. “M-My uniform…”
Oren snapped into action, grabbing my pants first. With a tenderness I’d never experienced, he shuffled them onto my legs, careful to avoid any bruises. His fingers worked effortlessly to clasp the button, and it would’ve been fine if he hadn’t had that cheeky grin on his face.
One minute he was standing, the next, he’d fallen to his knees, grabbing the zipper between his teeth. He yanked upward, finishing off the first article of clothing.
“Fucking hell,” I groaned, watching him intently. “Y-You can’t do that to me. Don’t you know I love pain and pleasure?”
“That was me saying sorry,” he mused, climbing to his feet once more, my shirt draped over his hands. The tremble to his timbre was gone, replaced by something darker, sultry. “You have to bend a bit so I can put it over your head.”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, but internally I prayed he wouldn’t notice the blood seeping through my bandage. “I expect a far more extensive apology later.” Bending forward, I swallowed the cry that lingered on the tip of my tongue.
He placed it over my head, shifting it to rest on my shoulders. After I shuffled my arms through the holes, he adjusted it, carefully draping it down my back and sides.
I reached forward, quick to tuck it into my pants, using the opposite side of the material to wipe off my blood-coated hand. Offering him a weak smile, I dipped my chin. “Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”
He smiled, a little less bright than this morning. “Yeah.”
Pushing myself from the bed, I ground my molars together to keep myself from groaning. How I was going to make it through training while my side screamed for medical attention, I had no idea.
My gaze met Oren’s one final time, and I dipped my chin with the respect he once offered me. “After you, Commander.”