Chapter 57
Viper
The floorboards creak under my foot, and I wince, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t wake her. When Delilah doesn’t move, I open the door and step into the hall. My gaze lands on Breaker leaned against the wall. He cocks his head to the side as I shut the door.
“Is she sleeping?” he asks. He’s not showered yet either, dirt smearing along his chest and arms. Even covered in sweat and filth, he’s so incredibly sexy that I can’t help but reach for him.
“The second her head hit the pillow. We’ll give her a few minutes.” I press my lips to his chest, inhaling sex and sweat and earth. “I was going to get a change of clothes, then wake her and shower with her.”
He makes a sound in his throat, throwing his head back, as my mouth skims the thick line of his throat. His fingers dig into my waist, sliding up to the dried cum on my chest as my teeth delicately sink into his Adam’s apple.
“Maybe I’ll join you,” he grates. “Continue the birthday celebration.”
I step away, brows knitted.
He chuckles and digs his phone from his pocket to show me the screen. I read the date and sure enough, it’s December 12th. With everything that’s happened, the weeks of stress and chaos, I forgot my own birthday.
“How’s that sound old man?” Breaker grins, a slightly wild, unhinged slant to it. He pulls me close, lips skimming over mine. His heated breath fans my face. “Fuck, I can still taste her, smell her on you.”
When I back away, I catch the same feral, heated look that still sings in my veins.
It’s as if we awakened something out there in those woods.
A demanding, ancient need to fuck and own.
He rakes his fingers into my hair, gripping it at the roots and tugging my hair back to take my mouth, and my hips thrust forward on instinct, that primal clawing rested deep inside me turning sharp and needy.
“Let’s—” the sharp slam of the front door cuts off his next few words, and Breaker steps back.
Our eyes connect.
Father’s returned.
We both rush to the end of the hall and lean over the banister.
Father stands in the foyer, hands on hips, staring down at his feet with his two soldiers by his side.
Like he can feel our presence, his head lifts, focus locking on me.
When our eyes connect, the air in the entire house shifts.
He shakes his head, and the look of disgust painting his features makes my stomach drop.
His frozen gaze moves to Breaker, lingering long enough to let me know that he knows.
Everything.
“You disappoint me, son,” Father says, pointing at me. “You’re a vile boy. You always have been, and now you’ve dragged my sweet, youngest son into your sickness.”
I grind my teeth, that old shame flooding my chest, coiling so tightly I feel the second it breaks.
Every single moment of my life burns through me like wildfire.
Thirty-two years of bowing, bleeding, begging for scraps of his approval.
It’s all meaningless now. The loyalty I’ve choked on, the twisted love he’s force-fed us, the bitter resentment I’ve swallowed down with each “Yes, Father”, all ruptures inside me.
Something dark and poisonous drains from my body, leaving me hollow, weightless. Free.
Breaker snarls, moving forward, but I grip his arm to stop him. “Don’t. He’s trying to rile me.”
But it won’t work. I love my brothers. Our girls. What we share isn’t vile or sinful. His opinion doesn’t matter. It never has. I carried it around, let it burn slightly brighter when I discovered he demolished the school and the sisters who allowed my abuse, but it never really mattered.
And it never will again.
Raising a hand, Father swirls his pointer in the air. Unease sticks like a thousand ice picks along my back. 48 glances our way and then steps to the door. He opens it and a man dressed in an all-black uniform, rifle in hand, steps inside. Then another.
And another.
They continue filing in, boots thudding in unison, rifles at the ready, suppressors attached to quiet their invasion.
Soldier after soldier enters the house like a silent, deadly shadow.
And with each new soldier filling the foyer, lining up in a neat line along the wall, that worry eating my gut slowly turns to ice.
A million thoughts race through my head: Get her, find a weapon, we can overtake them, but the more soldiers that file in, the thoughts die, my fear darkening, and turning sour in my stomach.
“Who are they?” I whisper, scanning the rows of soldiers, trying to sort through my memories.
Father never mentioned another school. Both of the ones he ran have been closed for years, and it’s obvious these men aren’t like us.
Not even like Father’s new soldiers. They aren’t as rigid.
Each one a tad sloppy in their movements as if they didn’t receive proper training.
But it doesn’t take a genius to see that where they lack in precision, they make up in sheer number.
Breaker takes a step back, toward Delilah’s room behind us, the same moment I do.
“Move an inch and I’ll kill her,” Fallon barks. “The Julian girl too.”
We both freeze. Breaker’s hand finds my forearm.
“You wouldn’t,” he says, betrayal lining every word.
He would. Father will use any tool, sink to any depth to control us. To weaken us. Breaker knows it, but he’s always wanted so desperately for Father to be different. We all have. Refusing to see him for what he is.
But I see him clearly now.
“He will,” I whisper, then clear my throat and say to Father, “Why all the fuss?” I motion to the soldiers below. “You picking up random men off the streets now? These guys are sloppy.”
“These men are paid to listen,” he barks. “Unlike my sons, who can’t take a simple order.”
“These men lack discipline,” I retort. “Obviously untrained.” I grip the railing, leaning over next to Breaker. “I’m disappointed in you, Father.”
“Cash buys loyalty quicker than discipline ever could,” Fallon says. “My sons are evidence of what happens when you coddle a boy instead of forging him into a man.”
My laugh has his shoulders stiffening.
“I gave you everything—wealth, a solid foundation, my fucking affection—and you repay me by defying me.” Fallon turns to the soldier closest to him standing in the doorway. “Retrieve them.”
More soldiers flood the foyer and march toward the stairs.
I step back, heart hammering against my ribs.
Every instinct screams to get to her, but Father’s voice slices through the air, and my body freezes in that old familiar way.
My muscles remember the lessons. The cutting belt, the nights without food, the cold and blood.
One command from him and years of conditioning take over, no matter how much I hate myself for it.
My chest tightens. We’ve pushed him to this. Refusing to listen to him. Disobeying every order. Jeopardizing the mission he painstakingly planned by taking Cora, refusing to hand her over until he marched in and stole her back.
Falling in love with our target.
“You’re to return at once,” he says, the order smacking me as harsh as leather to flesh. “Both of you will ensure the contract is finalized and get into that lodge. If you fail, I’ll send my soldiers to remove Rune.”
My stomach knots, and Breaker and I exchange a look. “That would ruin our chances of—”
“Silence!” he screams, and my insides freeze. “I have allowed this to go on long enough. Indulging in Reaper’s fantastical wish has cost me money, resources, and time I can never recover.”
Breaker grips the banister and leans forward, every muscle rigid with rage. “That fantastical wish is Reaper trying to get back—”
“My son is dead,” Fallon growls. “He died the day Rune took him from me.”
“Your son is—” The words cut off as a soldier marches toward Breaker.
White-hot fury explodes behind my eyes. I unsheathe my blade in one fluid motion, shoving Breaker backward with my left arm while my right slashes forward.
One soldier jumps away, but my boot connects with his shin.
He buckles, but the one behind him aims and shoots.
A rifle fires with a quiet pop. The bullet buzzes past my ear.
I duck, spin, slash. Blood sprays across my face, warm and metallic.
I pivot toward the next target when cold steel presses against my skull, freezing me mid-strike.
My fingers loosen on the knife, and it hits the hardwood with a hollow clatter that echoes through the suddenly silent hallway.
“I said restrain them, not fucking shoot them!” Fallon’s scream echoes around the house. Fear licks at the back of my mind, dulling the searing heat raging through me, terrified he just woke Delilah and she’ll come out here.
“We won’t fight,” I say, loud enough that Father can hear. I meet Breaker’s eyes. “We won’t fight at all.”
His jaw pops, but he knows, just like me, the threat is too great. Delilah is feet away, vulnerable. I have no idea where Striker and Reaper are. Not that it matters. We’re outnumbered.
By a fucking lot.
“Remember the plan,” I tell him quietly. “We do this. Then…”
We take our girls. We leave this all behind.
Breaker gives me a slight nod. The soldiers lower their weapons, then grab my wrists, wrenching my arms behind my back and bind them.
Beside me, Breaker grunts as his body hits the floor.
Another soldier secures his hands. They haul us both to our feet, pain lancing through my shoulders as I get my footing.
Fallon says something to 48, and he once again looks my way, then heads up the stairs, a line of soldiers trailing behind him.
“You’re going to regret this,” I whisper to him, malice twisting around every word as he brushes past me. “Reaper is going to fucking kill you the second he gets the chance.”
He stumbles for a moment, then keeps walking. Breaker twists his neck, watching them climb to the fourth floor until a gun barrel jabs between his shoulder blades, forcing him ahead.
“Move,” the man grates, and lifts his chin toward the stairs. “Downstairs.”
I grind my teeth, my fingers itching to snatch up my knife and plunge it into the bastard’s jugular and watch him bleed out.
But with a deep breath, I bury the urge to fight, and silently beg Breaker to listen and not make any sudden movements.
When my boots hit the bottom step, muffled pops crack from above.
My pulse explodes, but then Striker’s snarl and Reaper’s raw howl tear through the air.
He’s ordered them not to kill us, I remind myself. Fallon is just here to assert his control.
The fourth floor erupts with curses and snarls.
Boots thud. A sickening crack echoes down the stairwell before Striker’s bloodied face appears, hands bound, his entire body jerking against the soldiers’ grip like a rabid animal, as they drag him down the flights of stairs and shove him to the floor at my feet.
He rests his head on the wood floor, breathing deeply.
“You’re going to fucking regret this,” he snarls.
“Threats? Again?” Father says.
Minutes crawl by before three men emerge, struggling to contain a bound Reaper.
They slam him into the banister, and his feral growls stop briefly, but he continues to fight them, all teeth and snarls as they drag him to the foyer.
As they shove him to his knees, his eyes lock on mine, nothing but black pools, promising violence.
Blood paints his face, dripping from his nose onto the wood floor.
“Who are they?” he asks me, but his eyes drag along Breaker then Striker, like he’s checking for injuries, then scan the rows of soldiers at my back. “How many?”
His question surprises me, but I swallow down the shock. If Reaper doesn’t know about these men, we’re fucked. “No clue who they are. And if I’m to guess a number? It’s too many.”
Reaper’s teeth grind, swallowing my answer like it’s glass.
Striker’s pulled upright, so he’s kneeling.
He winces as the barrel of a rifle presses to his cheek.
A growl slips from my lips, my body tensing, the need to protect nearly making me shoot forward, but Reaper says, “No,” and I shove all my instincts down until I’m drowning in rage.
“Take them outside,” Fallon says, gesturing to me and Breaker. A hand clasps over my shoulder, and I’m shoved forward.
Reaper’s dark, deadly growl pricks along my arms. Everyone stops moving, and I meet his eyes. “Protect our Baby Girl,” he grates. “And I swear to god, if you let anything happen to her, I’ll kill you myself.”