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.
HeknowsI 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’sinfuriating.
“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, thathecares. 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.”
