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.
