Chapter 34 #2
In the faint red glow of the emergency lights, his scowl looks ominous. He pushes off the wall and slowly moves toward me, arms still crossed, boots barely making a sound. Ever so casual.
“How long?” he asks again.
I take a deep breath. My first instinct is to deny. Lie my way out of it, but I think he heard too much. I know he did from the way his black eyes bore into me.
“Or should I be asking why?” Reaper lifts his chin toward the door leading to the kitchen. “What’s he got on you?”
“Nothing.” Cook is right. I’m a fucking liar.
“You’re willingly sucking his little cock?” Reaper asks, his hands gripping his biceps so tight, I know he’s furious. He knows I’m lying, and panic eats at my middle, worried about what that means. He leans in, getting in my space, and growls, “How long and why?”
“Fifteen,” I say immediately because he honestly scares the shit out of me. He’s different. Colder than he used to be. That first mission fucked him up pretty badly.
“Fifteen,” he repeats as his arms fall to his side.
“And…” I can’t even say it. I look at my feet, my heart racing.
“That made Breaker eleven,” Reaper says, taking a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or was it Striker?”
My eyes snap to him, and he nods. Like he’d been guessing, and I just confirmed it.
Yes, I want to scream as shame coats my skin like slime. I let him fuck me. I suck him off. All so he doesn’t touch my brothers.
The threat came after I noticed him looking too long at our brothers.
At Striker. Breaker. At all of us. He made an offer, and I was too scared to refuse.
As long as I did what he wanted, he would leave my brothers alone.
If not, he’d take Breaker or maybe Striker, how and when he wanted.
Maybe drug their food. Maybe corner Breaker in the bathrooms. I couldn’t watch them every second of the day, he’d said.
And if I tried to tell someone, he’d tell our father that I came to him and confessed to secretly wanting to fuck my little brothers.
Considering my past and the constant conversations with Father, I never chanced testing him.
I told no one because he’s right. I don’t think Father would even believe me.
Not after scolding me for years every time he’s caught me looking at another man a little too long.
Not after he’s already worried that my sexual preferences may lean in both directions.
Besides, who has that level of bad luck? No one. But me, that is. And even if Father believed me and confronted Cook, he’d deny it. His word against mine. No proof. Just a damaged boy marked by the devil, cursed to endure looks and touches, ruined and at the mercy of whoever wanted him.
I was already stained, and I could save my brother’s.
So I agreed.
“Viper.” Reaper’s hard tone makes me meet his gaze.
Rage, bubbling like hot tar, simmers behind his dark eyes.
The sight of his anger makes guilt chew at my insides like rats.
I don’t know why I feel guilty. For lying, I guess.
For keeping it from him. Maybe I did because I knew what he’d do, and I don’t want him to take any more of my punishments. The cost is far too high.
“Why are you out here?” I ask, sliding around him and heading back toward our block, where our rooms are located. “You’re not usually one to sneak around after lights out.”
Hunter is, but I don’t say that. Hunter has been off since that disastrous first mission and has kept to himself. He’s been even quieter and more withdrawn ever since we all returned from the wilderness.
Fuck, so have I. I’ll never forget what I saw that day.
“Strike had another nightmare,” he says, following behind me. “I went to wake him up when I saw you sneaking out.”
“So you decided to follow me and listen in like a pervert?” I ask, turning down the hall that holds our rooms.
“I’m not the pervert,” Reaper says. My insides drip with fear of his next few words. I don’t think I can handle them. If Reaper thinks I’m—
He grabs my arm, spinning me to face him so violently that I stumble into him. For a second, I’m so stunned I can’t speak, much less pull from his hard grasp.
“Cook is a pervert.” He leans in close to my face, towering over me. In the darkness, he’s just black eyes and shadowy hate. “He’s not allowed to touch you ever again.”
I pull from his grasp and take a shuddering breath. Reaper’s a scary motherfucker when he wants to be.
“Keep your mouth shut,” I tell him. “It’s none of your business.”
“You’re my business.”
I stalk away, leaving him, and shove my door open, letting it slam, not caring if I wake everyone in the block. There’s barely anyone left. It’s just the five of us, and Cook and Teacher and that old man who cleans.
We’re the only ones left.
I strip off my clothes, leaving on just my boxers, my head swimming, and lie down on the bottom bunk. My skin feels overheated. My bones hollow. I feel hollow. Empty.
Reaper’s deadly expression follows me into sleep, and I move in and out of consciousness for most of the night. Restless and uneasy. I must have fallen asleep for a bit because I’m woken by a scream.
I bolt upright, and my head crashes into the underside of the bottom bunk.
“What’s that?” Breaker asks, climbing down from the top bunk. He must have sneaked in here when I was out.
“Fuck if I know,” I say, rubbing my head. “Cook probably found another rat.”
Breaker rushes to the door and peeks out, then looks at me, smoothing the wrinkles from his uniform pants. “I don’t think so.” He pulls the door open all the way and slips into the hall.
I take a minute to sort myself out. My head pounds, and my stomach feels like I drank battery acid, but I grab my pants and slip them on and pull on my shirt as I reach the door and spot Striker walking to the end of the hall.
“What’s going on?” I ask, but he just shrugs and keeps moving.
Pulling my boots on, I rush through the door. I grip Striker’s shoulder and shove him back toward my room. Another scream echoes through the hall.
“Wait in my room,” I tell Striker, then reach for Breaker, grabbing his shirt by the collar, tugging him back. “Both of you wait here while I go look.”
“Come on,” Breaker whines. “That’s bullshit.”
More shouts echo down the hall, and Striker’s head snaps in that direction. “It’s got to be something good if Father is yelling like that.”
“Wait in my room,” I bark out, pointing at the rusted metal door. “Now.”
Breaker sighs, and Striker shoots me a stern glare but tugs our little brother with him into my room.
“If you come out, I’m taking your food for a week,” I call over my shoulder and stalk down the hall.
As I round the corner that leads to the cafeteria, I hear Fallon barking orders and Teacher screaming something unintelligible.
Then I see it.
Red. Everywhere.
It splatters on the wall, gathers in a thick puddle around bare feet.
Feet I recognize.
“Who did this?” Fallon asks, his voice echoing down the hall. He looks at me and then at the pool of blood next to his boots.
I inch forward, my heart hammering. Bile rises in my throat, because I already know what I’m going to see.
Who I’m going to see.
My head spins. I shift slightly so I can see past Fallon’s body blocking my view, and the second my eyes land on him, I freeze. My hand shakes as I press it to my stomach, willing the contents to stay down.
Cook’s body slouches against the wall, his arms loose at his sides, his head drooped off to the left. He could be sleeping one off, like he has many times before, if it weren’t for the blood. It covers his pants, soaks his shirt.
And the fact his throat has been slashed.
And his hands are cut off and sitting in his lap.
“Damn,” Hunter whispers from behind me. He steps up next to me, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, inspecting. “That’s messy.”
“Who. Did. This,” Fallon asks again, his tone deadly.
“I did,” Hunter says, sauntering forward, and clasps a hand on Fallon’s shoulder.
Liar. They are always protecting one another. That’s what they do.
That’s what we all do.
Fallon doesn’t remove his hand but turns to face him. “Why?”
Hunter leans in and stage whispers, “He tried to touch my cock. Said he’s dreamed of my little dick since I was a boy. So I cut off his hands.”
Fallon’s gaze immediately snaps to me, and my breathing stops. He breaks our gaze after a heartbeat then gestures to Cook’s body. “Clean this up,” he tells Hunter. “Throw the mess in the incinerator.” Fallon points at me. “Get your brothers and stay in your room.”
“Yes, sir,” I say and take a step back.
“Viper.” Father’s hard tone makes my blood curdle.
His jaw pops as he eyes me, his hands on his hips.
When he breaks eye contact, his gaze drops to his feet, and it feels like time stills.
I brace myself for it. The harsh words. The accusations.
But when Father drags his eyes back up to me, I see nothing but a flash of softness before he covers it up.
He points to Cook’s mutilated body. “Not a word of this to anyone.”
Father spins and stalks down the hall, not looking back.
My insides squirm, bile threatening to spew all over the floor. I clutch my stomach and stalk back down the hall toward my room.
“What’s happening?” Striker shouts. “Why was everyone yelling?”
I look up and find Reaper leaned against the wall outside my room, Striker’s head peeking out from the open door.
“Nothing,” I choke out, my focus locked on Reaper as I approach. A tingling sensation ripples down my spine, then spreads, flooding my hands. It feels a lot like panic. I rip my focus from Reaper and say to Striker, “Go to your rooms and stay until Father calls us for breakfast.”
My little brothers inch out of my room, both glancing down the hall as they go.
“Go,” I yell.
Once they are in their rooms, I march forward.
Reaper pushes off the wall right as I step up to my door and blocks the entrance.
I crash into his hard chest and stumble back, but he catches my arm.
Reaper releases me, then slides to the side, unblocking my path, but I’m frozen in place.
His eyes drift down the hall where, just out of sight, Cook’s mutilated body lies in a heap.
He rubs the scars on his lips, like he’s thinking. “Looks like we need a new cook,” he says and then brushes past me.
I don’t follow him.
I don’t question.
I don’t look back as I walk back into my room, a strange relief flooding me.
This is who and what Reaper is.
He protects us at all costs.
He is death and vengeance wrapped up in a man’s body.