“Get a grip, Reap,” I growl, knowing I need to talk with him later to find out why he’s behaving this way.
He’s always been so cold, stoic, rarely displaying emotion other than anger. I worried he’d lost his heart when we lost Hunter, with how callous he spoke of the girls over the years. But it seems he’s found it again.
It makes me wonder how long Delilah has carried the fragments.
I know something happened between them the night he went to her. Some shift that’s allowed him to connect with her on a deeper level that has him caring about her the way he cares for us, but he’s behaving so outside his norm I’m concerned.
I know she’s capable of pulling this off, so that can’t be what has him so on edge. She’s training hard. Decent with a gun and will improve with time.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Every time you react, he wins.”
He shoots me a look, his jaw grinding under his mask, but says nothing.
Does he know something we don’t? Reaper is manipulative and secretive, often keeping Fallon’s orders from us until he’s reduced the impact, or manipulated the outcome, which is why this sick worry churns in my gut.
Did Father give him an order that the rest of us may not like?
“He’s too…” Reaper’s voice trails off, but I know what he’s going to say.
“Handsy,” I say for him.
Touch her again, and I’ll gut you.That is exactly what Reaper threatened, and Father is blatantly challenging him.
When Reaper and the rest of us planned this, Princess was just a tool. Now she’s…
More.
So much more that she’s become a liability. They both have. I don’t know when or how Cora and Delilah went from being our bloody revenge to…
Fuck.I don’t know what they are.
Important.
Ours.
In need of protection from men like us.
“Fuck this,” Reaper growls.
My attention snaps to Delilah, and my blood turns to ice. Fallon stands behind her, his chest pressed to her back, hands on her small arms, coaching her on how to hold the large automatic rifle.
“Reaper,” I warn, gripping his forearm, but he rips free, and stalks forward with deadly intent.
I adjust my mask as I follow, knowing that interfering will just make things worse.
God, it’s going to be a long two weeks.
“I’ll do it,” Reaper says, shoving his hand between Fallon and our girl. “Step back.”
I don’t miss the flash of a smirk as Fallon throws his hands up and takes a large step back, allowing Reaper to move into his place. He looks my way. “I believe this is Striker’s job, since you were so desperate to keep him here.”
I clasp a hand on Reaper’s shoulder. His gaze darts my way. Wild, manic darkness swirls like shadows behind his eyes.
“She’s fine,” I say.
Reaper’s jaw moves under his mask. He swipes a hand over his mask and turns to Father. “We’re done here. I’m taking her back to the house, and we’ll resume tomorrow.”
Father clasps his hands behind his back, rocking back on his heels. The smile and calm demeanor scream with a cruel glee. This entire morning was not just about testing Princess, but us too. And Reaper walked right into his trap.
