Chapter 4
Breaker
Anger runs in hot waves under my skin. A tightness winds around my ribcage, threatening to suffocate me. It’s crushing. This heaviness of knowing the reason Cora was hurt was because of me. If I had just controlled myself, not acted on impulse, Rune wouldn’t have laid a hand on her.
I raise my eyes to the bathroom door where she’s hiding, then drop to my large shirt and boxers I have next to me, ready for her when she decides to come out.
I just want to get her into bed. Care for her. Keep her safe.
“You realize this is your fault,” Harlow says, like the guilt hanging over me is thick enough to see.
“Roughly ninety-nine percent,” I agree, “but I’m not shouldering blame that isn’t mine.” My pointed look turns his features hard. “You’re a part of this too.”
My words piss him off even more, and he spins away, raking a hand over his short-graying hair, to stare at the closed bathroom door.
Guess he knows by forcing her to return to Rune, not fucking saying or doing anything to stop Rune from handing Cora over to Zane, makes him just as guilty as the rest of us.
We’ve all sacrificed her safety for this mission. We’re all to blame.
“I need to talk to him,” Clyde says, resuming his pacing. He can’t seem to sit still. Moving from the couch next to me to pacing the length of the room as he mutters then says, “But I don’t know if I can after what he did.”
My chest squeezes. Just the thought of her being hurt gives me that tight sensation zapping through me, and I grip my thighs, counting breaths, forcing oxygen past the knot.
The beast inside me rattles its cage, hungry for blood.
Rune’s blood. If I give in to what it wants, I’ll be satisfied, but we’ll never get what we need. What Reaper needs from this mission.
The clack clack clack of Clyde’s shoes on the concrete floor matches in time with my finger tapping my thigh. When I realize I’m doing it, I curl my fingers into a fist, feeling the control I have over that monstrous thing lining my insides slipping away.
I unclench my jaw and exhale slowly. “We all have to face Rune soon.”
“Don’t fucking remind me,” Harlow mutters and resumes his pacing. “He still hasn’t contacted me. He just fucking left her there, like…” His voice trails off. There’s no need to say it.
Considering the frantic state Harlow was in when he returned with her, I can only imagine the condition he found Cora in when he went to get her from her condo.
I keep seeing her, the purple-black bruise spreading beneath her right eye, the lump on her forehead.
My stomach lurches every time I think of Rune harming her.
I never checked his location until it was too late. That knowledge is going to sit with me for the rest of my life, tucked away with all the other horrible things I’ve seen and done.
Our Little Red was being brutally assaulted, yet again, by her abuser while I sat here drinking and feeling smug.
The tortured look on Harlow’s face when he carried her into the factory has me terrified she’s lying about the extent of Rune’s assault.
I’m not sure I can handle the reality. How she’s survived him is beyond me.
The scrape of Clyde’s shoes against the concrete floor drags my focus back to him, and the look he gives me could cut glass. His jaw works, and a vein pulses at his temple. The anguish he’s dragged around for hours has turned into rage, and it’s pointed at me.
I deserve it.
I failed. It was my job to keep her safe, and I fucking failed.
After a moment, he peels his gaze from me, and continues pacing. I eye the vodka bottle still sitting on the coffee table in front of me, wishing I could drown myself in it. But it won’t do anyone any good. Cora, least of all.
I need to focus. Come up with a plan. Sitting here wallowing in guilt will accomplish nothing.
Staring at the monitors upstairs does me no good either, even though I want to track Rune’s every move.
We wasted precious time monitoring him after I tucked Cora into bed, watching him move from his club to his house, then back again.
Tracking him tells us nothing. Sitting here waiting for Cora to get out of the shower is a waste of time, but I refuse to disturb her, despite Clyde’s insistence that I check on her.
She needs space. To be alone and process what she’s endured.
Even though every atom in my being screams to stay close to her, she needs a minute.
“Is she still in the shower?” I ask, eyeing the door Harlow’s hovering near.
“If you mean is the shower still running, then yes,” Harlow snaps. “But I don’t have eyes on her, so I don’t know.” He points at the door. “You need to go in there with her before I do. And I know for a fact, my being in there would only upset her more.”
I shake my head, staring down at my phone, resting face down on the coffee table, wishing for a message from Reap or Strike, or any sign to tell me what I should do next. As much as I want to grab it and check for a message or Rune’s movement, I don’t pick it up.
It’s a waste of time.
“She has a fucking head injury,” Harlow says. I don’t even have to look at him to feel the hole he’s boring into my skull with his blame. “What if she gets dizzy and falls?”
“If she needs help, she will call for us,” I say, even though that is the exact reason I want to be in there with her.
But I force myself to remain still. I may not know the violating touch of hands that are supposed to protect, but I know what it feels like to need to cleanse yourself of vile things.
My phone vibrates with yet another incoming alert, and I cave, snatching it up from the coffee table. The camera set up outside Rune’s house shows a live feed of Rune’s car pulling into his long driveway, the iron gates sliding closed behind his black SUV.
Gnashing my teeth, I toss the phone down. It skitters across the table with a harsh clatter. My temples throb as I reach for the remote instead, that tightness returning to my chest. He’s just going home. Going about his business as if nothing happened.
The phone buzzes again with another alert, but I leave it face-down. If I obsess over every single movement, I’m going to go mad.
Hell, sitting here waiting, and I’m already halfway there. My eyes drift to the thin line of light beneath the bathroom door.
She’s okay. Just breathe. The vise around my ribcage loosens a fraction, knowing she’s with me, and away from Rune.
“This doesn’t wreck the mission,” Harlow says suddenly. I glance his way to find him watching me.
“Correct.” I nod. “Everything is still on track. We just have to wait for Delilah.”
I’m about to say that with Zane out of commission, it gives Delilah a little more time to prepare, but swallow it back, knowing the reminder of what I did to Zane will just enrage Harlow further.
“Any updates?” His eyes flick to my phone. “Has Reaper contacted you?”
“No,” I say. If he’s asking, then that means Reaper hasn’t given him an update either. “We’ve been keeping communication at a minimum.”
“Good. No reason for unnecessary risks.”
We’ve spent so long planning this, have invested so many years, spent so much energy, I fear constantly we’ve become complacent.
It’s been fairly easy to set this up, as well as for Harlow to keep under Rune’s radar, that sometimes it all just feels a little too easy.
Then again, Rune’s arrogance helps. He must think it impossible that Harlow would ever betray him, considering he knows about his hunts.
Hell, Harlow was there to see the aftermath of the first one.
So was Viper, though he never talks about it.
None of us talks about those days in the wilderness. Some things are better left in the past.
“Shit,” Harlow mutters. I glance his way. He rubs his jaw, then crosses his arms. When he sees my expression, he continues, “What if Rune thinks Cora returned to my house?”
“Do you really think he’s concerned?” I ask. “How long has he gotten away with hurting her, and no one knew?”
Harlow’s jaw pops. He looks up at the ceiling, blowing out a heavy breath. I almost feel bad for him, but fuck, he has turned a blind eye to so much that I think he’s just as guilty as me.
“I don’t want her near him,” he says. “But I don’t know how to keep her away from him.”
“Maybe we can use Zane’s injury to our advantage,” I say.
“Injury?” Harlow scoffs, brows lifting. “We’re not calling it what it is, Breaker?”
“Fine. We can use how I tortured Zane to our advantage.”
Harlow narrows his eyes at me. “Go on.”
“You mentioned he thinks it was one of us who fucked up Zane,” I say. “Maybe we can use this to keep Cora away from Rune for a while.”
Harlow nods. “Rune believes one of you attacked Zane in retaliation for forcing Fallon’s hand. Rune knew Cora would be returned. And we all know he’s waiting for Fallon to contact him again about Delilah.”
“We can feed his paranoia. Tell him after Zane’s attack, she’s safer with you since”—I gesture to him—“you live in a fortress.”
Harlow smirks, obviously liking this idea. “I keep her at my house, using Fallon as an excuse to keep her with me at all times.”
“Then he won’t see the extent…” I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air unspoken. Then Rune won’t see the extent of the damage he caused. My chest squeezes, and I have to take in a breath to ease it.
Harlow takes a deep breath too, then says, “If I keep her with me, I can keep her in training. She’s an excellent shot.”
I lean back in my seat, trying to picture her holding an AR-15. Harlow says she’s quick and highly skilled. Our tiny Little Red. I wish I could see her with a weapon. One pointed at Rune’s head. We’ve sought revenge for what he did to Hunter, but I think Cora deserves to be the one who ends him.
He destroyed Hunter over weeks, but he tore Cora apart piece by piece for years.
The phone vibrates again, but I ignore it. Obsessively watching Rune’s front gate will change nothing.
“I should probably get her back to my place,” Clyde says. “I’ll keep her phone off until morning and let Rune think she spent the night at her condo.” He gestures to the bathroom door. “Go get her.”
I set the remote down and stalk across the room, easing the door open. Steam sticks to my skin the second I walk in, the warm air coating my lungs as I inhale. The row of showers to the right is empty, even though the first showerhead blasts water onto the white tile floor.
Unease curls around my throat, making it hard to swallow. Glancing around, I stalk to the toilets, pushing open each stall door, the metal doors clanging loudly, until I’ve checked them all. Fear weaves up my spine as I turn, scanning the space, not seeing her anywhere.
It’s not like she can hide in a bathroom.
“Harlow,” I choke out, my voice cracking.
He bursts through the door, eyes widening as his gaze sweeps the empty stalls, the abandoned shower. His shoulders drop. “Goddammit, she didn’t,” he growls. “I’m going to strangle her.”
I close the distance between us, gripping his collar, my voice coming out hard and rough. “Where the fuck did she go, Harlow?”
He shoves me away. “You know where she is.”
My heartbeat hammers so hard, I press my palm to my chest like this will slow it down. The room blurs at the edges, my head swirling with panic and terrible building rage.
This isn’t the first time she’s dealt with Rune. Men like him, like Fallon, have patterns. I know this. Hell, we all do.
They lash out and then regain your loyalty with praises and a few kind words.
Days, sometimes even weeks, of peace and affection, and right when you almost believe they might have truly changed, might truly mean what they say, that old evil sparks to life and they prove they are just the same monster.
And that’s how she’s survived him all these years.
She placated the monster.
And that’s exactly where she went.
Back to Rune.