I stumble back at the hidden meaning of his words. They aren’t threats, just as Reaper said. He really intended to kill Striker if they continued to disobey. The reality explodes through me, red-hot in my veins.
“They were littleboys,” I shout. My chest heaves with each breath as rage pushes out all logic. I rise onto my tiptoes, my face inches from his, so full of hatred I’m engulfed in flames. “You took little boys and terrified them.”
“I turned them into strong soldiers,” he says. “I saved them.”
Everything I know about the men crashes through my head, thundering and rattling like a freight train. He’s insane. Completely sadistic with a fucking savior complex.
“You’redelusional,” I hiss, and the next few words slip out laced with venom. “How many boys have you saved? How many boys have youkilled?”
Fallon’s eyes gleam dangerously. “I knew they failed with you,” he says, each word punctuated with pure, uncontained hatred. “I never should have listened to them. They let their feelings cloud their judgement. And now look at you. No self control. Zero discipline. You are useless.”
All the fire roiling inside me boils over. The anger at being trapped here, the intense fear that I’m going to mess up and the men will be hurt, the feeling of being so helpless. It all explodes out of me in a chaotic burst.
Taking a step back, I fling my arms out. “Then fucking shoot me! You have at least a dozen other soldiers to send in my place. If I’m so fucking useless, end me!”
Fallon’s jaw pops and he raises the gun, aiming at my chest. My heart rattles my bones. He’s right. Fear breeds bravery or finds weakness. And apparently, stupidity.
Seems I’m the latter.
Stupid beyond measure to dare this killer to end my life.
My heart races wildly, each thud sending torrents of blood whooshing through my head, pounding relentlessly against my skull. I clench my jaw, teeth grinding as I brace myself for it. For the quietpopof the bullet. For the pain as the bullet tears through me, and end this fucking nightmare.Anything.
He moves forward, and the barrel digs into my chest. I stop breathing, and we stand, eye to eye, unmoving, unspeaking for what feels like an eternity.
Refusing to back down, I meet his cold gaze. “Do it,” I say between clenched teeth.
Ice-colored eyes bore into me. Then he lowers the gun, setting it carefully on the table. I release a slow, shaky breath, my teeth clenched to keep my chin from trembling.
“You, Delilah Gavin, need to learn better survival skills.” Fallon leans in, so close I can see the faint wrinkles around his eyes, the clean-shaven skin along his strong jaw. “Because Rune Gavin will eat you alive and spit out your bones the second he realizes you lived up to your namesake. And once he’s destroyed you, he’ll tear down all the bloody pillars holding up his castle, not caring who gets crushed within its walls.”
Chapter 29
Striker
Themetallicrattleofthe van doors slamming closed cut through the stillness. It’s colder and drier today, and my breath mists around my face as I stalk up the drive. The back of my neck pricks, and I turn to find the three soldiers who joined me on today’s run, standing around, doing nothing.
“Where do you want the supplies?” 48 asks, gesturing to the boxes of food and household items stacked on the ground. He tugs his mask over his head, eyeing me as I rip mine from my back pocket.
“Kitchen. Help put them away,” I say, not hiding my irritation that Father sent me with them, and continue toward the front door.
The errand Father demanded I run, ate up the entire day, and as each hour passed, a sense of desperation wound up in my chest, knowing Reaper had been alone all day.
The low roar of an engine rumbles from behind me. In the fading light, I catch the bright glow of headlights in the distance. My brows knit, and I realize after a second it’s Father’s black cartearing down the dirt road. The car jolts, hitting a dip, and the undercarriage scrapes against the dirt with a sickening sound.
My stomach lurches.
There is only one person who would dare drive Father’s car so recklessly.
When he takes the last turn into the drive, gravel spits up under the tires, the little pinks of the rocks hitting the underside like bullets. The car comes to an abrupt stop, and the door snaps open. Reaper’s boot hits the gravel, and he steps out, slamming the car door shut, eyes locked on me.
“Why the fuck aren’t you with her?” he shouts, stalking toward me.
“Why the fuck aren’t you?” I snap back. “Where were you?”
“Busy being Father’s errand boy all damn day,” he grates, storming past me.
If I was gone, and Reaper was gone, then Delilah has been alone all day.
