At first I think it’s Hunter, but then Reaper says, “How long has this been going on?”
Panic slams into my chest like a freight train.
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. Ilet 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 wanthim 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.”
