Chapter 22 Oren
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
OREN
The walk to the training area was anything but ideal, Thorne stumbling to keep a leisurely pace. How was he going to survive a training where I had to impress my father to maintain appearances?
He was going to expect ruthlessness from me, but could I deliver the man he’d almost molded me into? How could I focus when the person I adored was hobbling because of my mistakes?
Stopping once more, I glanced back at Thorne, his hand pressed against the wall to keep his balance. While I knew I’d bruised him, he shouldn’t be struggling to stand. Was this a ploy in case someone walked by?
By the lull in his gait, the grimace on his face, and the sweat beading on his temple, I knew it wasn’t an act. Something was wrong.
I didn’t have time to decipher it as I lifted my chin, my father’s voice already booming from the closed door.
He was pissed, and if this was going to work, I needed it to be plausible.
I didn’t want what I’d done to Thorne to be nullified by my inability to wear the mask I needed to.
Thorne had worn this for so long, and it was my turn.
He deserved reprieve, and I would shoulder this burden until we figured out a plan on how to escape my father’s clutches.
I would wear this mask in the presence of my father and do unspeakable things if it meant Thorne never had to stain his hands with crimson again. I finally had something, someone I wanted to protect—someone who loved me despite my flaws.
I would never allow him to reexperience the trauma he’d endured alone for so long.
Wrapping my hand around the door, I flung it open. I grabbed a fistful of Thorne’s shirt, tossing him into the training room.
Liam and Matthew turned to the sound, their eyes widening as they landed on their former commander, covered in green and gray splotches, the bruises I’d inflicted today and yesterday melding together.
They had no idea we’d reconciled, and this would break another piece of my heart, but to keep them safe I’d do it.
To finally create a wedge in my father’s control, I would maintain appearances.
I slammed the door shut, locking eyes with the man I wanted to murder. No. The man I was going to kill. I hoped the rage I exuded toward him was mistaken for fury toward Thorne.
“He was late, General, and when told to collect himself, he refused.”
“Bullshit,” Matthew spat before anyone else could open their mouth. “Thorne would never, has never been late for anything throughout the decade he’s served.”
I stepped closer to the man I loved, gritting my teeth.
“Are you suggesting I’m lying?” I pointed my finger at Thorne’s rasping form, his breaths frightening me at how unsteady they were.
“He defied a simple order to dress, and I gave him the punishment he deserved. If either of you have something else to say, I suggest keeping your goddamn mouths shut. We have training to do.”
Liam was frozen, his brown gaze fluttering between Thorne and me. He’d yet to see the monster I’d become. He shook his head, his hands shaking beside his thighs, but he didn’t utter a word.
He was already broken, the coffee color of his irises dulled. Recognizing his pain tore into my heart. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with Simon; that’s where I would want to be if something happened to Thorne.
“Suggesting you're lying?” Matthew challenged, his lips curling into a sneer. “If that’s what you wish to take my words as, then sure. I’d merely say I’m calling you out, considering I’ve known that man far longer than you have.”
I couldn’t let him continue to run me over with my father watching, but I didn’t want to hurt them.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone. “Are you sure? Because to me it seems you don’t truly know anyone.
You love to spew advice, offer comfort to everyone around you, but aren’t you really the one who’s broken?
You think giving out pieces of your heart will make up for men you let get killed?
You’re no different from Thorne. Just a man who hides his pathetic skills with a sugar-coated phrase, because if you win someone over, they never have to search into your soul, right? ”
“Fuck you, Valens.” Matthew spat, rage billowing from him.
Thorne groaned from the ground, trying to push himself up. “I-It’s fine, Matt. Just let it—”
I placed a boot on his back, shoving him back to the ground, hoping the force was believable enough. I didn’t want to hurt him, but they needed a show. “If you say anything else, I’ll shatter his fucking—”
Matthew cut me off before I could finish. “Like calls to like, doesn’t it, Oren? You’re just like your fucking dad.”
The blow sunk deep, my fingers twitching, but I couldn’t let it hurt. I couldn’t let it break the order I needed to show.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped over a broken Thorne, footfalls echoing in the training room.
Before Matthew could dodge, I punched him in the face, the crack reverberating up my arm.
The blow came easily, but it did irreparable damage to everything I held dear.
“I warned you, Lieutenant. Another word, and it’s Liam next. ”
Liam grimaced, taking a step away from me, and fuck did that hurt. He was terrified of me, and I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout, wanted to scream, but I couldn’t.
How had Thorne done this for so long? How had he been able to survive manipulation when everyone, including me, had looked at him with disgust? How did he get up in the mornings when these faces of disappointment and despair greeted him?
“Your squadron is rather…divided, Commander Valens.”
My dad. My fucking dad.
I flicked my eyes to him. “It’s the leftover impurities from Thorne’s leadership, sir. I’ll bleed it out that entire squad until ultimate compliance and order is gained.”
“Perhaps you start where it began?” His chin gestured toward Thorne, who remained on the ground. “It appears the beating you gave him this morning wasn’t sufficient if his influence continues to elicit this kind of defiance.”
“If you lay another fucking hand on him,” Matthew growled, his jaw feathering. “I’ll fucking gut—”
“What better way,” my father interrupted, his judgmental glower drilling into me, “to ensure obedience from your lieutenant than to inflict damage on the one he’s so adamantly running his mouth for?”
“O-Oren?” Liam spoke, his words warbled by the echoes of what I was about to do.
Turning from him, I looked at Thorne, my eyes wavering. It was just him and me, my father blocked by my back. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do this.
Thorne looked up at me, his golden irises glinting with the pain he felt—a pain I was still trying to figure out. With the subtle dip of his chin, my knees threatened to buckle beneath me, his message clear: Do what needs to be done.
I didn’t have the grace like earlier this morning. Every second would seem like an act of defiance to my father, and already enough had ticked by. “Yes, sir,” I said before colliding the tip of my boot with Thorne’s face.
Blood splattered, the sound of it ringing in my ears as it coated the floor. I’d never forget the way it stained my shoe, or the way his body had shuddered upon impact.
I wanted to knock him out, but it wouldn’t be easy. If I could make him unconscious, he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.
Reaching down, I grabbed his shirt, hauling him upright, muscles straining to keep him from falling over.
“Oren, stop!” Liam screamed, his voice breaking with the plea.
I internalized that scream, letting it ferment in my mind, because I never wanted to forget it. Even if Thorne had forgiven me, I’d caused myself to be in this position. I deserved those screams.
How I still managed to speak with utter calm, I wasn’t sure. “Stop? You want me to stop?”
I waited until Thorne settled on his knees, his wavering frame one kick from collapsing. So that’s what I did—kicked him in the back like the sorry piece of shit I was.
The thud of his body against the ground would always haunt me, and the only thing I could do to comfort myself was to dig my nails into my palms.
As he laid on the ground, there was no missing the pool of blood from his side—his stitches. Oh God, I’d opened his stitches this morning.
Chuckling, my father stepped around me, glaring down at Thorne. “Look at you, Graves, a pathetic mess. Perhaps we should leave you here to bleed dry considering it’s the least you deserve after all the men you’ve failed, all the lives you’ve robbed.”
I nodded at my father’s words. “Look at what both of you caused. Any more issues you’d like to address?” My gaze fell to Matthew first.
Silence. Unearthly silence filled the room, no one willing to oppose me anymore. And still, even as I proved myself to my father, shoving them beneath my command, it didn’t stop him.
His foot drove into Thorne’s side, and the heartbreaking cry that tumbled from him forced me to swallow the sob I wished to let fall. “Another man rendered useless to my cause because of your negligence.”
Another kick. More blood.
“Because of your incompetence.”
Another.
“Because of your disobedience.”
Another.
“P-Please,” Thorne rasped, the single word woven with desperation—he was begging. “G-General Valens… I’ll be b-better—”
“Better?” My father snarled, dropping to a knee beside him. “You should’ve been better, Graves.”
“I-I—”
Shut up, Thorne. Please.
As if he could hear my internal plea, my father’s hand clamped down on Thorne’s mouth, muffling the gut-wrenching scream that came from him as two fingers dove into the wound I’d opened. Thorne thrashed against him, his cries only worsening as my father pushed even further, even harder.
“All of this,” he seethed, gesturing over his shoulder toward me. “Is because of your inability to command my son correctly. These are the consequences of your actions, of your failures.”