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 isdead,” 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. “Wewon’tfight 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 bodyhits 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, muffledpopscrack 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, andhis 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.”
