Chapter 10
Viper
But I’m here now. Even if it’s late in the day.
Swiping hair off my forehead, I punch the code into the keypad outside the garage.
The metal door rattles shut. I expect Breaker to barge out of the factory, all hell and spit-fire, spewing one question after another.
Like, why the fuck am I here? Why did I leave our girl?
Don't I think he’s capable of handling this on his own?
His ability to protect Cora isn’t the problem.
He’s capable. More than. Lethal when he needs to be.
It’s not a lack of confidence in him that brings me here, to this old, worn-down place we called our base for years.
It’s the hollow ache that’s been spreading through my chest since he left, the phantom limb pain of missing a vital part of myself.
Seven days without him feels like seven years.
Reaper is going to have my head for taking the SUV, but my skin has been crawling with inaction. Waiting does nothing. Waiting has just brought us more problems.
Like our little Vixen being sent back to her abuser.
My jaw tightens until pain shoots through my temple. Problem now, I’m away from Delilah. From all of them.
Fuck.
Striker’s face flashes in my mind. I left on impulse, without telling anyone. I’m going to have to contend with not only a furious Reap, but an angry and hurt Striker. We made a pact in that dark prison we called home. Until Breaker left.
And now me.
But we made a pact with them too. With our delicate little warriors, and I’ll be damned if an order is going to keep me away from her. I’ll be damned if she’s going to fight this alone.
Part of me wonders if this was Reaper’s plan all along. He knew Breaker would follow Cora. And he knew I’d follow, unable to sit still and wait.
But, now I’m here. But it seems Breaker isn’t, since he’s not out here yelling at me.
He’s probably off watching over Cora or Rune.
The security cameras should have pinged his phone the moment I arrived.
I unlock my phone and wait, expecting him to see me on the security camera, but after a minute, when he doesn’t message or call, I tuck my phone in my back pocket and head toward the side of the factory.
It’s been a month since I’ve been here, and it’s strange to feel this slight comfort at being back.
This isn’t home. The cliffs, the woods, the salty marsh, the huge empty house with its ghosts and ruined gardens, are home.
This place was never meant to be anything but temporary.
Yet it’s familiar, and I move toward the door with an airiness in my bones, a jitteriness in my fingertips, knowing I’m going to see him soon if not right now.
Knowing that even though I have to keep my cover, I will see Cora at some point.
If Breaker got his hands on her, then I will too, even if I have to tear this city apart brick by fucking brick.
When I unlock the door, my hand freezes on the door handle.
Something cold slithers beneath my ribs, settling in my gut.
Something that feels an awful lot like dread.
Intuition maybe? Or just the knowledge that when I enter the building, there is no going back.
I will become part of the Snyder Group, and will eventually have to come face to face with Rune.
The reality is almost deafening with how it screams through my thoughts. When we planned this, we knew we were going to have to face Rune. Pretend to be his ally. Pretend to be just as thirsty for evil.
At the time, revenge was a hungry beast, driving us all, turning us just as mad as him. Now there is so much at stake. Now there is so much knowledge.
Before, Rune was a monster who fed off terror, driven with a grotesque hunger I’ll never comprehend. And never forget.
But now? Now we know.
He’s Cora’s tormentor. Delilah’s pain.
He’s a vile cancer that needs to be cut out.
With that thought, I shove the door open. The metal hinges protest with a rusty screech that echoes through the large space. When I step through the door, my gaze lands on him sitting on the couch.
And the gnawing itch that’s lived under my skin since he left fades, and a pulsing need courses through me as I drink in the sight of him.
Breaker sits on the sofa, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid under his black t-shirt.
My fingers twitch with the need to trace the powerful line of his jaw.
Breaker is the only man—well, until recently—the only man who has ever made me ache so deeply.
For his touch. His mouth. His want. Everything that makes him is so perfect and fiercely beautiful.
He always felt like an angel placed in my life to keep me sane.
Until I started noticing he wasn’t an angelic boy anymore. He had structure and substance. He grew into a man, and every feature cut me with a need I knew was bad but couldn’t control.
Then one night in that ratty hotel room brought all that need to a boiling point.
I surrendered to what I’d been fighting since he grew from that beautiful boy into the hard, lethal man before me.
I avoided him for months after that. Couldn’t bear to see the hurt in those pale blue eyes.
The way he longed and ached. The confusion, and how my refusal left him so bruised.
It’s tragic it took Hunter’s death to force me to let go and claim what I wanted.
Even more tragic, I refused to speak it openly for so long.
Now? Now I want to scream it so everyone knows that this desire for him is pure and good and I don’t have to feel shame. It’s not a sin.
Watching Striker accept the things I struggled with in secret made it easier to accept them within myself. And we have our girls to thank for that.
Cora.
God. I can’t wait to see her. Get my hands on her.
I march forward, my heart expanding with each step. He must not hear me because he still doesn’t move as I approach. It isn’t until I’m right on him that his head jerks my way, eyes widening when he sees me. I expect a snarky remark, but he just stares at me, expression turning from shock to…
Dread
Suddenly he snaps out of it, and says, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, asshole.” I say, eating up the sight of his hard, muscled body, noting how his shoulders bunch and his arms go tense. How his jaw tightens even more, his plush lips thinning.
I circle the couch, tracking the rise and fall of his chest, counting each breath the way I counted the days without him.
I stop in front of him, the coffee table between us.
All I can think about is wrapping my arms around him and breathing him in, and it takes everything in me not to do just that.
Kick all obstacles out of my way and pull him to me until there’s nothing separating us.
Fuck, I’ve missed this stupid, impulsive idiot.
“You can’t be here,” he says, bolting up from the sofa. Something passes through his pale blue eyes, making my heart skip. Dread. It’s there again. Just behind his eyes, like a shadow.
My throat tightens. “What happened?”
Breaker’s fingers claw at his chest, bunching the fabric like he’s trying to rip something out. Or hold something in.
Not a good sign.
He only does that thing with his chest, or taps his finger when he’s upset and about to break something.
“Start talking, Breaker,” I grate, the words scraping my throat raw. Patience has never been my strong suit, but the dark glint in his eyes makes me hesitant to snap at him. Breaker’s control is hairline thin at the moment. One wrong move and he may detonate.
Ignoring me, he swipes his phone off the coffee table and taps the screen, sighs, then shoves his phone into his pocket.
I cross my arms, heat climbing my neck as he refuses to meet my gaze. “What happened?”
Be patient. Be nice.
He cuts a look my way. “Let’s just say Zane won’t be typing up contracts or playing video games anytime soon.”
I quirk a brow, sorting through the many layers of that statement. “What did he do?”
“Something that earned him a lesson.”
A lesson.
My cheeks puff as I exhale, pulse pounding in my head, doing my best to avoid an argument. It appears Breaker lost control, and I guess Zane suffered the consequences.
“Hands or arms?” I ask.
“Hand. Just one.”
Ice spreads through my veins. “Did he touch her?”
“He tried.” The two words contain a violence I recognize all too well, but he’s being vague, which means whatever happened was bad. Really bad. Enough that he doesn’t want to tell me.
He’s lucky I’m in a good mood.
“Explain ‘tried,’ Breaker.”
“Why are you here again?” he asks, glaring at me from across the coffee table, which now feels more like a barricade. “I don’t need you watching over me.”
I narrow my eyes, my chest tightening. Of course he’d think that I don’t trust him, and not that I’ve been counting heartbeats until I could see him again.
“This was the plan,” I say, swallowing the truth. “Remember?”
“The plan was for all of us to be here after Delilah was ready,” he snaps.
My molars grind together. “Yet, here you are,” I gesture to him. “Starting the mission before we’re ready.”
He huffs out a half laugh. “So you came to make sure I got it right.”
“Obviously that was a good move considering you’re going around breaking hands and keeping secrets,” I clap back.
His jaw pops as he digs out his phone and sits back down on the sofa, tapping at his screen again. When he shoves it in his pocket and sighs, my blood turns cold. When he squares his shoulders like he’s preparing, opening his mouth to speak, but stops himself, I know.
I just fucking know.
“Rune.” The name burns my throat raw.
Breaker nods, looking away. “And it’s my fault.”
The floor seems to shift beneath my feet. That day a week ago rushes to the forefront of my mind. Her face, scared but determined to be strong as she walked from the room and right back into the devil's hands. Right where we sent her.
Where I allowed her to go, knowing what Rune is capable of.
My brothers don’t know what I know.
What Clyde knows.
“He hurt her,” I state, my gut churning with tarry darkness. I swallow and look up at the ceiling, praying she’s okay. “How bad?”
Breaker doesn’t answer and I press my eyes closed, a faint, but chaotic noise building in my head.
Reaper.
Christ. This will break him in ways he can’t come back from.
We fucking did this. Fucking sent her back here and now…
“What did he do?” I ask, focusing back on Breaker. His eyes fall to his feet. I suck in a breath, the churning in my gut turning solid and heavy like heavy stones.
Molten rage floods my veins, scorching through me as violently as lava. My vision narrows to pinpricks of light. Images of the past scratch at my mind, threatening to destroy every ounce of reason. I’m at the door before I register moving. Breaker’s fingers dig into my bicep, spinning me around.
“Where are you going?” he asks. “You know damn well we can’t touch Rune.”
“I’m not going to Rune. I’m going to get our girl.”