Chapter 8
Delilah
Acool draft slips under my nightgown, raising goosebumps across my skin. The wooden banister slips beneath my fingertips, cold as ice, as I climb each step, wincing when my ribs protest.
From what little I could see in the mirror this morning, bruises scatter my back, and a faint one discolors my ribcage from where Fallon kicked me. Striker said there was no broken skin, and the welts from last night have faded, leaving only a deep throb.
My reminder to obey.
A step creaks beneath my bare foot. I freeze, eyes darting upward. One would think I’ve learned my lesson, but here I am, once again, headed for the fourth floor where the men sleep. But this time I’m not looking for keys, or clues, or a way to escape. I’m looking for Reaper.
When I woke this morning, Striker was gone. He’d stayed with me all night, adjusting covers, but they all came loose as I tossed and turned, too restless to sleep. Each time my eyes fluttered open, I’d find him sitting up, gaze fixed on me like if he looked away, I’d vanish.
The poisonous fear Fallon inflicted was something I’ve never experienced before.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fallon’s cruel smirk, felt the bite of the belt against my flesh.
I’ve never felt as helpless as I did with my arms stretched out and Fallon at my back.
I couldn’t stop what was happening to me.
There was no way to stop what he was doing to them.
This morning, as I lay in bed watching the sun paint my bedroom in bright gold light, all I could think about was Cora.
She’s never had any control over what happened to her.
Not only did she lose her parents in a car crash, but their reputation was destroyed after it came out they screwed Rune over in a business deal.
Knowing she was innocent, my father took her in, giving her a sense of security, and raised her with me.
Loved her like a father. Then, he ripped away that love.
brutally. He forced things on her that no one should ever endure.
In an instant, Cora lost control of her body and who had access to it.
Rune gets what he wants. Always. Whether it be by force, manipulation, or murder. My best friend lost so much when he decided he wanted her. I may have been under his thumb, but I still owned my body.
It wasn’t until last night, unable to stop Fallon, did I fully understand the scope of what it means to have zero control. No amount of begging would have stopped him.
How many times did Cora beg Rune to stop? How many times did she feel that same helplessness and lack of control?
The thought twists my mind into a chaotic spiral. Shoves me to the brink of sanity, so close to the edge that I’m seeking out Reaper to make a deal.
At the top of the stairs, I pause, fingers furling around the black fabric in my hand.
Reaper is hard to read, but if the last few days have taught me anything about him, he cares a hell of a lot more than he’s let on.
They all do. It’s possible Fallon has fucked them up to the point they simply don’t know how to show it.
Reaper is coldness to the point of bitter, then consuming fiery heat.
Hard, then soft touches. He’s an oxymoron, but one thing remains constant.
His need for control.
He’s controlled me since I first laid eyes on him. I’ve been at his mercy, playing by his rules. The night in bed with him proved it.
If I want this, I have to let him lead.
With my mind made up, I walk forward, my feet barely whispering against the cold floor. I pause at his door, noting it’s slightly ajar, almost as if he knew I’d come to him. My hand freezes over the knob when his voice cuts through the silence.
“If you’re planning on stealing the keys, Viper beat you to it,” Reaper says, his voice slightly muffled by the door. “We’re stuck here until another car is delivered.”
I push the door open and step into his room, my heart hammering. My gaze immediately lands on him, and my pulse skyrockets.
Just like that day in the library, he stands in front of the window with his back to me, his mask off, revealing the thick black hair sleeked back over his head and the tattoos snaking up his neck from under his shirt.
I eat up the sight of what little I can see of him.
His ears, exposed by the hair that’s shaved close to his head.
The black ink on his skin and his strong back.
Memories flood me. His taste and his touch. The filthy words that bleed from him when I do everything he wants and let him take. Let him own me. How he made me feel so cherished, then ripped it away, leaving me desperate for more.
But I won’t get more until I play along.
Be a good little Kitten.
Fallon’s visit last night taught me two things.
They are controlled by him and their need for revenge.
I’m controlled by them and my need to avenge the wrongs done to Cora.
I could say my primary motivation is stopping the cruel, barbaric hunts, but I’d be stretching the truth.
As much as I want Rune stopped, what I really want is him dead so Cora will never feel that helpless fear again.
Inching further into the room, I wait for him to slip his mask over his head, but after a few seconds, when he still doesn’t move, I realize he’s not going to.
My already rapid heartbeat thumps faster. Harder.
Touch her again, and I’ll gut you.
Reaper threatened to kill his father.
It wasn’t until this moment, staring at him, that I fully comprehended the significance of his words. Of their actions. Reaper and Striker stood against their father to protect me. They knew what was coming. They tried to keep him from me, but Fallon and his soldiers were too much for them.
Part of me wonders if that’s why Fallon brought so many. If he knew his sons would try to stand against him and the only way he was going to keep control was to threaten their lives.
The thought chills my blood. That they know him on this deep, dark level. That they have endured that type of abuse before. Likely things I’ll never comprehend.
Biting my lip, I debate my next few words, but then they burst out of me unchecked. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill Rune.”
Other than a slight bunching of his shoulders, he remains still.
When Reaper doesn’t respond, I take another step further into the room. “Isn’t that what you want? My cooperation?”
He shakes his head. “You’re going back.”
“Back?” I scoff. Here I wanted nothing but to go home, and now I want to stay. Continue training. Learn to shoot and kill.
Kill my father, of all people.
“Back,” he says, the word a single sentence. A command. Like he’s been commanding me and controlling me and fucking wrecking me.
“I’m not going back until I’m trained,” I say, and my heart kicks. I gather the black material into a fist. “You said I needed to train. Learn to defend myself. Learn to—”
Reaper shifts. I catch the flash of a high cheekbone and the side of his perfect jaw covered with dark stubble.
I slam my eyes shut. My hands fumble with the black material, fingers trembling as I tie the blindfold at the back of my head.
The same blindfold they all used on me just a few days ago.
My ribs scream as I lower myself to my knees, placing my palms on my thighs.
The floorboards creak, and some animal part of my brain knows he’s looking my way. Can sense his eyes moving over me, taking in my kneeling form. The blindfold. Hoping he can see this for what it is.
My submission. My willingness.
“What is this?” he asks, his voice gruff. His boots scrape on the floor as he walks closer, stopping before me.
I’ve wanted so desperately to see his face. Ached for him to confess this dark need blooming between us, but now…
Now I want none of it.
The single sentence he spoke to Fallon changed everything. His actions scream with a clarity that nearly takes my breath away.
He killed to make me his.
He threatened his father to keep me safe.
But I can’t do this if he cares. And I can’t do this if I care too much.
Reaper needs to stay faceless. Unknown. If I glimpse the man beneath that mask, see what and who he truly is, he’ll be human.
He’ll no longer be a faceless soldier. If I see the lines of his face, see more than those scars on his lips, he’ll be breakable, and after watching Striker kneel with a gun pressed to his head, my heart can’t handle Reaper being something that can be snuffed out with a single bullet.
Not until the threat is gone. Not until I know he’s safe. Until they all are.
My heart pounds, knowing that what I’m about to say may give him too much control, but deep down, I know this will only work one way.
“I’ll continue training,” I say. “I’ll kill Rune, but I have conditions.”
His fingers graze the top of my head. Delicate yet cut with a hard edge. Like being touched by a fallen angel, but then they thread through my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat to the cool air.
“Conditions, Kitten?” he asks, his voice taking a deeper, slightly raspy tone, coloring it with seduction and want. “My sweet girl thinks that I’ll barter?”
I lick my lips as pleasure curls in my belly. I’m his sweet girl again.
That means I may get what I want.
When he grips the blindfold, I grab his wrist and grate out, “No.”
His voice drops an octave. “No?”
“No.” I exhale, my grip tightening on his hand, a silent plea.
After a moment, he releases the blindfold. “What are your conditions?”
“You will have my complete and total cooperation,” I say, my shoulders relaxing. “I will do as asked. You train me in the way your father instruct—”
“No.” Again, a single sentence.
My heart skitters at how harshly he barks out the word. The skin on my back pulls, reminding me that whatever they were supposed to do would have been so inhumane, I’d have been broken.
I take a deep breath and continue. “I will follow your plan. Get into the lodge. Get access to the weapons, and kill Rune.”