“You can’t be here,” he says, bolting up from the sofa. Something passes through his pale blue eyes, making my heart skip. Dread. It’s there again. Just behind his eyes, like a shadow.
My throat tightens. “What happened?”
Breaker’s fingers claw at his chest, bunching the fabric like he’s trying to rip something out. Or hold something in.
Not a good sign.
He only does that thing with his chest, or taps his finger when he’s upset and about to break something.
“Start talking, Breaker,” I grate, the words scraping my throat raw. Patience has never been my strong suit, but the dark glint in his eyes makes me hesitant to snap at him. Breaker’s control is hairline thin at the moment. One wrong move and he may detonate.
Ignoring me, he swipes his phone off the coffee table and taps the screen, sighs, then shoves his phone into his pocket.
I cross my arms, heat climbing my neck as he refuses to meet my gaze. “What happened?”
Be patient. Be nice.
He cuts a look my way. “Let’s just say Zane won’t be typing up contracts or playing video games anytime soon.”
I quirk a brow, sorting through the many layers of that statement. “What did he do?”
“Something that earned him a lesson.”
A lesson.
My cheeks puff as I exhale, pulse pounding in my head, doing my best to avoid an argument. It appears Breaker lost control, and I guess Zane suffered the consequences.
“Hands or arms?” I ask.
“Hand. Just one.”
Ice spreads through my veins. “Did he touch her?”
“He tried.” The two words contain a violence I recognize all too well, but he’s being vague, which means whatever happened was bad. Really bad. Enough that he doesn’t want to tell me.
He’s lucky I’m in a good mood.
“Explain ‘tried,’ Breaker.”
“Why are you here again?” he asks, glaring at me from across the coffee table, which now feels more like a barricade. “I don’t need you watching over me.”
I narrow my eyes, my chest tightening. Of course he’d think that I don’t trust him, and not that I’ve been counting heartbeats until I could see him again.
“This was the plan,” I say, swallowing the truth. “Remember?”
“The plan was for all of us to be here after Delilah was ready,” he snaps.
My molars grind together. “Yet, here you are,” I gesture to him. “Starting the mission before we’re ready.”
He huffs out a half laugh. “So you came to make sure I got it right.”
“Obviously that was a good move considering you’re going around breaking hands and keeping secrets,” I clap back.
His jaw pops as he digs out his phone and sits back down on the sofa, tapping at his screen again. When he shoves it in his pocket and sighs, my blood turns cold. When he squares his shoulders like he’s preparing, opening his mouth to speak, but stops himself, I know.
I just fuckingknow.
“Rune.” The name burns my throat raw.
