Chapter 48
Delilah
Fallon’s threat echoes in my head all the next day. It settles in my joints, heating my muscles against the chilly morning air, while Striker and I run along the cliffs.
The threat thrums through my fingertips at the range where Breaker and Striker take turns instructing me.
It drives me during the afternoon training session with Viper, and continues to propel me through awkward dinners, as I sit between Viper and Breaker, while Reaper feeds me food from the tray as their father watches.
The bitter reminder of his threat crashes through my skull every time I spot Fallon, always only a few feet away, watching my every move.
It repeats for the next four days, while I continue training.
Even after I take Striker to the floor, finally succeeding after my weeks of trying and failing, the threat rings in my head.
It continues during a session at the range, where I hit the center of the target with every single bullet, Fallon’s presence serving as a reminder that many lives hang in the balance.
I can’t fuck up.
With the constant reminder playing on repeat in my head that the men I care about are at as much risk as me, I throw myself into training.
I’m glad Viper has returned, though why remains a mystery.
He is a better, more patient instructor than Reaper and Striker, taking the time to correct me and explain if something I did left me exposed.
Breaker is far more helpful with target practice, encouraging me, showing me how to improve my aim.
None of the men talk much beyond instructing me during practice and a few praises when I do well.
The few times Viper or Breaker have escorted me to my room, or down from dinner, I ask about Cora.
Reaper told me she managed to break the marriage contract with Zane, but if I try to bring it up, they shake their heads, refusing to discuss the topic. To speak at all.
They stay quiet. Distant. Any communication with me, just a simple order. There are no more sneaky touches. No more dragging me to an empty room to steal intimate moments. It’s as if the deadline of my return hangs so heavy, no one can think beyond the mission.
So I stay focused on training from the moment I open my eyes until I fall into bed.
I’m a robot. Sleep, eat, shoot, fight, stab, eat, then repeat.
That’s it.
I can’t allow my mind time to think.
If I do, I’ll feel the cavernous hole in my chest that gapes and bleeds without Cora here.
If I do, I will not make it through this.
Today is no different. But the weight of everything I’m training to do, sits like a boulder on my chest, combined with a restless unease leaving me jittery.
Messy.
I feel messy again today, and it has everything to do with Viper. His strong, sexy body. The way his uniform hugs his thighs and—
“You need to focus, Sweetheart,” he says, pointing to my feet. “You’re all over the place today.”
My eyes meet his. Late afternoon light highlights the stark bluish green of his eyes and adds little glimmers of red along his dark brown eyelashes.
Have I ever noticed the color of his lashes?
“Think of it like a dance,” Fallon says from the sidelines. He’s been watching Viper train me all afternoon, commenting on my techniques, suggesting certain moves to Viper, who ignores him.
They all seem to have been ignoring him for the last few days, and he’s allowed their surly behavior. I’m not sure what happened between them, but their hostile demeanor towards him is obvious.
And terrifying.
I worry that at any second Fallon will snap and hurt them. So I do everything I’m told, barely saying a word, following every command, and never complaining.
Fallon notices my cooperation, and his hatred of me feels more volatile today. I think Fallon blames me for this shift in them.
“Pay attention, Sweetheart,” Viper says. “Do what I say.”
Maybe if he’d stop looking like he wants to spread me open and eat me, I could focus.
“Are you saying I’m unaware of things around me?” I ask, too aware of him and only him.
“Yes, Kitten.” Reaper’s deep voice cuts through the room, and I trip over my feet.
I cast a startled look his way, nearly forgetting he’s in the room with us. I need to get a handle on myself.
Reaper’s shoulders tense. “You’re easily distracted today.” He gestures to Viper. “That distraction will get you killed.”
I give Reaper a slight nod, and refocus on Viper, noting how he keeps casting looks at Reaper.
Worry slithers through my gut, and I glance out the window, hoping all of Fallon’s soldiers haven’t returned.
Only two remain, 48 and 55, though I rarely see them.
I wonder what had happened that he sent most of them away, keeping only two.
When I asked, no one answered. But I figured it has to do with 57’s attack.
And the fact Reaper and Striker removed his hands.
Ever since that night, the men have treated their father differently. Fallon must feel the shift in his sons’. Feel their defiance in every hostile look, every grumbled response, and blatant refusal to acknowledge his presence.
Maybe he sent them away to keep the peace and kept two just in case.
I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension from my neck, too aware of Viper standing feet away. Of Fallon’s assessing gaze. Of the pressure of knowing I have to succeed with my first attempt at premeditated murder.
“Focus.” Reaper snaps his fingers at me.
Pain twinges in my jaw as I clench my teeth and glare at him. I’m more than capable of defending myself, yet he’s treating me like I’m going to die the second I return to Rune.
He knows I can defend myself. The knife in 57’s neck proved that. Why he’s being so hard on me today is beyond me. Reaper’s grown increasingly cold with each passing day. Distant and back to his old self. Mean and nothing like the man who opened up to me just days ago.
Push, pull.
Hot, cold.
He’s infuriating.
“Have I told you that you’re a shitty trainer?” I snap.
“Adjust your tone,” Reaper growls back, his already dark eyes turning darker.
My skin grows hot at the authoritative timber icing over his words. Like I’m a child he’s correcting. An itchy need to clap back with more rudeness tingles in my throat, but I bite back the words and clamp my mouth shut.
Reaper grips both my shoulders roughly, adjusting my posture, then shakes my shoulders, his jaw working under his mask, his demand grating out of his throat. “Stay relaxed, loose.”
I shove him away and step back, his irritation and aggressive manner making my heart race. I’m used to Reaper’s moods by now, but he feels darker today. Unsteady in the anger that radiates off him.
“I’m doing my best,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
“Your best is going to get you killed,” he growls. “I can’t have you dying on me.”
“That’s right,” I sneer, losing all control over my mouth. “I’m no good to you dead.”
“Exactly.” The cruel hiss of the single word slices through my chest, through everything he confessed. “If you die, so do my chances of getting what I want.”
I huff out a bitter laugh, my body turning brittle under his ruthless glare. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to mistake your needing me with wanting me.”
Reaper’s shoulders stiffen slightly, but then a slick, slightly acidic and wholly cruel chuckle slips from him. “Want implies desire, Kitten. And the only thing I desire is getting into that lodge.”
I hate that my face flames, his words not just knocking me back down to my place as his tool, but searing through me painfully.
He takes another step closer, invading my senses. “If you mistake my desire for you to live for anything other than a deep craving to destroy your father, it will cost you your life.”
His words hit like a physical blow. After everything, how dare he try to rip the one thing I’ve clung to? That they care, that he cares. Not just about this mission, but about me. That his cold threat to his father, then his brutal and heart-rending confession in my bathroom, means he cares deeply.
My heart skips a beat, my neck heating. “I can defend myself. Ask 57.”
“He wasn’t driven by blind rage,” Reaper says, his voice growing louder with each word.
“He was driven mad by the need to ram his dick into me.” I jab a finger into his chest, anger making me bold. “And I fucking killed him for it.”
Something ghosts behind his eyes. Regret maybe, but it looks a little too close to fear. Something I recognize. I see it every time I look in the mirror.
“I can and will defend myself. I can and will end Rune.”
Reaper closes the space between us with one large step. “Let’s be very clear, Kitten. Rune destroyed a part of me the day he killed my brother,” he says. “When you pull a gun on him, he will know.”
The second the last word slips out, everything slams into me. A kaleidoscope of images and words moving in vibrant color through my mind fast enough to steal my breath.
Rune will know.
Not just that I’ve turned against him, but that in order to gain my loyalty, they didn’t just brainwash me; they took me.
Stole my body, mind, and heart.
And Rune won’t hesitate to use that information against me.
I nod, lowering my head so I don’t have to see the blackness swirling behind Reaper’s eyes.
So I don’t have to see the absolute terror that I won’t make it out of this alive.
***
“Let’s go over it again.”
Fallon’s demand churns my stomach, and my fingers curl into the fabric of my sweater. I gather it in my clammy hands, trying to control my breathing. Every one of his words lands with a fizzle and pop, eroding my courage. The armor I’ve placed around my heart is now rusted and riddled with holes.
Reaper’s words left me raw.
I glance toward the closed door. Even knowing that all four men stand just outside doesn’t help the unease gathering inside me.
That was their condition when Fallon led me to the basement for another round of prepping me for my return.
They would only leave him alone with me if they remained nearby.