Chapter 19
Striker
We’ve been standing outside in the cold for hours, and my patience is waning. Across the stretch of road, Fallon stands next to our girl, instructing her. Each time his hands brush her shoulder, a coil winds up tighter in my chest, and I have to force myself to remain still.
“Fuck this.”
Beside me, Reaper’s struggle is as palpable as my own, a dark, angry energy emanating from him in thick waves.
Just like me, he’s all too aware of the deliberate touches and praising smiles.
And as one hour bleeds into the next, each lingering touch is pushing him dangerously close to the edge. One he can’t fall over.
Neither of us can afford to lose control.
Not again.
We made the mistake of letting it slip, and now Father is using it against us. Our affection for Princess makes us vulnerable, makes her vulnerable. Fallon has proven time and time again he won’t hesitate to manipulate us with threats to those we love.
Love.
The coil that’s near breaking unravels, and my chest expands with a slow, steady inhale.
I glance at Reaper, like he can sense my thoughts.
Are we even capable of loving something so delicate?
How dare I even think that any of us has a right to feel so deeply for her?
For Cora? We’ve done nothing but inflict fear and pain.
“She’s cold, and he doesn’t care,” he says loudly, and I’m glad the words get carried away with the wind so Fallon doesn’t hear.
Reaper’s right. Fallon doesn’t care. Not about her comfort or her fear. It’s all part of the training. Keeping her on edge. Uncomfortable. Mixing in gentle praises with harsh criticism designed to wear her down.
Dragging her out into the cold, forcing her to practice, forcing his nearness on her as bitter winds whip off the water will ensure by the time he’s done with her, she’ll be exhausted, cold, and grateful to be locked inside her room again.
Grateful to be away from him but still terrified of what he’ll do next.
I know because that’s exactly what he did with us.
Everything he’s still doing to us.
My focus shifts back to Delilah. A strong wind bursts off the water, and she tucks her chin into her little black coat.
She looks so small and breakable in her leggings and small boots, hands buried in the pockets of the jacket.
She must be exhausted. We’ve only had a week of training, and her body isn’t used to the hours of practice, much less this cold. I hope she’s warm enough. I hope…
Fuck. We’re so fucking fucked.
“He needs to keep his hands off her,” Reaper grates as Father pats her back. He’s so tense he’s nearly bursting out of his skin, glaring at Father, who’s positioned himself right next to her as he tests her skill. Which is doing nothing but testing Reaper.
Father’s entire plan, I’m sure.
As much as I detest him being close to her after his vicious display of power, I know he’s proven his point and won’t hurt her again unless provoked. He forced our hand. We’ve admitted we care for her. He has his ammunition, and we know to follow his every command so he doesn’t use it.
Now he just wants to ensure she’s capable. It’s not that he won’t turn at any second. That’s who Fallon is, hot and cold, but as long as we all play by his rules, he won’t lose his temper and take it out on our girl.
Years of watching a monster with sharp teeth and hidden claws taught me that Fallon can be reasonable and rarely takes unnecessary risks. Hurting Delilah further, he knows, would only further rip the divide starting between us, and he doesn’t want that.
He may have new soldiers, but we’re his first.
We’re his sons.
And he needs her trust as much as we do. Fallon is strategic in his warnings. He scared her, and us, just enough, and now he wants to see how loyal she truly is. Because if he doesn’t gain her full loyalty and trust her enough himself, I’m not sure he’ll send her back to Rune.
That thought sits heavily, and I glance again at Reaper. “He enjoys testing us,” I remind him, “but that’s not why he’s here.”
“Added bonus,” he says, sarcasm lining each word. “But you’re right. He needs to make sure she won’t tell Rune everything when she returns.”
“She won’t.”
Reaper rips his gaze from Father to meet my eyes. “No. She won’t.”
Our girl proved her loyalty with every harsh lash of the belt to her back. My gut churns at the memory, hating that we failed her so horribly.
Beside me, Reaper shifts, an angry growl slipping out.
“Calm the fuck down.” I nudge his arm with my elbow, and he shifts his glare from Father to me. I narrow my eyes. “He’s watching.”
Reaper’s body goes stiff as Father rests a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes dart back to us for reassurance. That she’s checking in with us, gauging our reaction, means she trusts us not just with her body, but with her safety.
Trust we don’t deserve.
The wind shifts, sending long black tendrils of shiny black hair across her face. She’s so stunningly beautiful, and so much stronger than we gave her credit for. Cora’s green eyes fill my mind. Viper and Breaker better be fucking taking care of her.
“She’s fine as long as we’re fine,” I say. “He’s going to touch her. Talk to her.”
I’m aware I’m trying to help ease my unsettled gut as much as assure Reaper. We’re all protective of one another, and this is the first time we’ve had something outside ourselves to worry over. To protect. To watch walk through life so vulnerable.
We’re a unit. And now we have two small, fragile women who hold our hearts and minds, and everything is fucking pure chaos inside me.
Inside us.
Because I’ve never seen Reaper so…affected.
Which screams he’s feeling everything I’m feeling right now.
Pissed off that our father, this violent, cruel man, dares to touch our girl. Furious with the four of us for being so blinded by revenge, we would hurt something so small and delicate to achieve it.
Father pulls her closer, and I clamp a hand on Reaper’s shoulder to keep him still.
“Get a grip, Reap,” I growl, knowing I need to talk with him later to find out why he’s behaving this way.
He’s always been so cold, stoic, rarely displaying emotion other than anger. I worried he’d lost his heart when we lost Hunter, with how callous he spoke of the girls over the years. But it seems he’s found it again.
It makes me wonder how long Delilah has carried the fragments.
I know something happened between them the night he went to her. Some shift that’s allowed him to connect with her on a deeper level that has him caring about her the way he cares for us, but he’s behaving so outside his norm I’m concerned.
I know she’s capable of pulling this off, so that can’t be what has him so on edge. She’s training hard. Decent with a gun and will improve with time.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Every time you react, he wins.”
He shoots me a look, his jaw grinding under his mask, but says nothing.
Does he know something we don’t? Reaper is manipulative and secretive, often keeping Fallon’s orders from us until he’s reduced the impact, or manipulated the outcome, which is why this sick worry churns in my gut.
Did Father give him an order that the rest of us may not like?
“He’s too…” Reaper’s voice trails off, but I know what he’s going to say.
“Handsy,” I say for him.
Touch her again, and I’ll gut you. That is exactly what Reaper threatened, and Father is blatantly challenging him.
When Reaper and the rest of us planned this, Princess was just a tool. Now she’s…
More.
So much more that she’s become a liability. They both have. I don’t know when or how Cora and Delilah went from being our bloody revenge to…
Fuck. I don’t know what they are.
Important.
Ours.
In need of protection from men like us.
“Fuck this,” Reaper growls.
My attention snaps to Delilah, and my blood turns to ice. Fallon stands behind her, his chest pressed to her back, hands on her small arms, coaching her on how to hold the large automatic rifle.
“Reaper,” I warn, gripping his forearm, but he rips free, and stalks forward with deadly intent.
I adjust my mask as I follow, knowing that interfering will just make things worse.
God, it’s going to be a long two weeks.
“I’ll do it,” Reaper says, shoving his hand between Fallon and our girl. “Step back.”
I don’t miss the flash of a smirk as Fallon throws his hands up and takes a large step back, allowing Reaper to move into his place. He looks my way. “I believe this is Striker’s job, since you were so desperate to keep him here.”
I clasp a hand on Reaper’s shoulder. His gaze darts my way. Wild, manic darkness swirls like shadows behind his eyes.
“She’s fine,” I say.
Reaper’s jaw moves under his mask. He swipes a hand over his mask and turns to Father. “We’re done here. I’m taking her back to the house, and we’ll resume tomorrow.”
Father clasps his hands behind his back, rocking back on his heels. The smile and calm demeanor scream with a cruel glee. This entire morning was not just about testing Princess, but us too. And Reaper walked right into his trap.
He might as well have yelled at the top of his lungs that she’s no longer just a mission.
She’s ours.
His.
“Very well.” Father gestures to the table. “Striker, take these back to the house and clean them.” With that fucking smirk still in place, he walks away, motioning for his new soldiers to follow.
The second his back is to us, Delilah steps away from the table, grasping Reaper’s arm. “What happened?”
Reaper weaves his fingers into the shiny black strands of her hair and pulls her to his chest. “He was too close. No one touches you.”
I lean down, pressing my masked lips to the top of her head, keeping my focus on Father as he walks down the path to make sure he doesn’t turn around.
“He was purposely trying to piss us off,” I tell her, then grab a bag from under the table as I say to Reaper, “Better get her to her room before he changes his mind.”