Breaker (Unmasked #3)

7. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Breaker

T he day I met Fallon was the day I lost my father. He walked away, leaving me in the yard, my small boots already dirty with the things I’d later do, not knowing I wouldn’t see Father again for many years.

Not until the day we buried his son.

Or what remained of him.

To this day, I’m unsure which man was real. Commander Fallon—cold, ruthless, eyes devoid of all emotion, so icy blue it’s like looking into a frozen wasteland, nothing below the surface but jagged rocks and dead things.

My otets. Father. Mr. Byrns. The man who smiled and tucked me into bed the nights he stayed late. My father who placed puzzle pieces on the table for me to fit together, or softly corrected me as he taught me his mother’s language. He would pat my head and tell me how proud he was that I could say the words, and my chest would swell with happiness.

Foolish kid that I was. I didn’t know that behind his impeccable three-piece suits and charming smiles he was hiding the devil himself. I didn’t know it was the devil I so desperately wanted to please. Before I knew what he was capable of. Before I knew he wore two faces.

Fallon and Father.

Although it was Father, not Fallon, who buried his son.

The day we placed Hunter into the earth, the world was painted too vividly, the sun so bright overhead it was nearly blinding. As I watched Fallon fall to his knees before Hunter’s open grave, the earth shone evergreen, the sun so warm and alive it burned my eyes. Or maybe it was the tears that refused to flow.

All that bright color felt like a betrayal to what was inside my chest. A cavern of emptiness, an inky darkness that felt like it was bleeding out of me, soaking into the soft green grass, staining it with pain.

I remember wondering as his legs gave way, if what Father felt then was remorse. I wondered too if what made him crumble was the agonizing realization that he was the reason his son was dead. The reason there were just pieces of the man we all loved in the casket.

I don’t have to wonder anymore what that type of pain feels like. I feel it right now, like a thousand tiny slivers of sharp metal shards stabbing what’s left of my heart, letting rage leak into the room around me.

Anger at myself. At All of us.

And rage feels better than guilt.

Delilah’s screams scrape through me, and I look at Reaper. He feels it too. This cleaving in half. Yet another piece, something we’ve just admitted we’ve wanted, craved, desired, needed for years, someone we’ve claimed as ours, taken from us.

Because of him.

Fallon. Father.

I’ve never hated him before. Not even as he took the belt to us, or when he shoved me in solitary. Not even the day I was named, when he told me it was okay to break things. No. I have never hated father for turning us into soldiers.

But I think I hate him now.

And this hatred is deep, boiling inside me a with red, fiery heat. Like a corrosive acid, eating away at all thoughts until it’s all just violence in my head.

“No one takes what’s ours.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. I don’t feel like me. I feel like the man Fallon created. The soldier. The Breaker. The syn who destroys frail bones and soft skin in order to quench the insatiable thirst of the thing that lives inside me. The dark creature that Fallon created. The thing he fed.

Behind me, Striker kneels, watching as the past and present collide, forced to relive the day we had to leave a huge portion of ourselves behind to save another. The day we sacrificed Hunter and left him with Rune. Except we aren’t leaving. We’re sending her away, directly into his arms, knowing acutely what he’s capable of.

My fingers tighten in my gloves, curling into a fist.

“Why?” I hear myself asking.

It’s silent now. I’ve been standing so long, watching the dark night sky, so lost in thought that I didn’t hear them leave. I glance around the empty foyer, almost in shock that they’re no longer here. That they somehow got our tiny girl off the floor and took her away.

I whirl around, eyes scanning the second-floor balcony and the dimly lit hallway that leads to the dining room. My heart races as I search for her, holding on to the doorknob tightly to keep myself upright.

We did this. I can blame Fallon all I want, but we still did this.

“The code,” Fallon says, and I snap my head over to him. He’s leaned against the wood doorway leading to the library, arms crossed, smug satisfaction oozing from him.

Bastard.

“Fuck the code,” I snarl, turning to face him fully. I wonder how long he’s been standing there, observing like he always does. Scheming. Planning. Taking in our every move like a chess player and storing it away for later use.

Instead of learning from his mistakes, he’s grown colder.

If that is even possible.

Fallon is icy meanness, and he uses everything he sees as a weapon. It doesn’t matter who you are. Family or foe, he manipulates those around him to get what he wants. We defied him and instead of supporting us, battling this fucking deal Rune made with Zane, he’s spitefully taking her away to punish us.

Fallon quirks a brow, adjusting his suit. Always in control. Always so self-righteous.

I hate the thought he saw Striker so dismantled. Delilah so heartbroken. Reaper feeling so fucking guilty. I don’t care if Father sees me weak. He’s seen me strong and seen me cry. He’s seen me terrified and changed my sheets when I wet the bed as a small boy. But I hate that he’s seen my brothers so devastated. He doesn’t deserve to see their softer sides, not when he’s never given them any of his.

“We must abide by it,” Fallon says, head tilting slightly to the side, like he’s gauging my reactions. Out of all of us, I’m the only one he can read like a book.

“You’ve never given a damn about any code .“ I don’t know when I moved forward, or how my fingers curled into the lapel of Father’s jacket so tight my gloves creak, but I know when Fallon’s perfect dark gray brow quirks upward, my heart beats like a thundering drum, and my stomach somersaults, churning with that old slick sensation.

Fear.

I drop my hand and step back.

His features contort in a way I’ve never seen before. Something similar to disgust. “You fucked her.” It’s not a question.

My gaze falls to the floor, heart skipping. Whenever Father curses, he somehow makes the word sound even more crass.

Fucked.

Like what we shared was crude. Immoral. Something dirty and not…

“When I said do with as you please, that’s not what I meant.” The sound he makes in his throat makes my gaze dart to his. Something flares behind his eyes, turning his features hard. Accusatory. “I taught my son better than to force himself on a woman.”

“She was willing,” I growl. Father doesn’t know what I discovered in his office that day we broke in looking for the red file. What Viper and Striker and I found in those files he kept on all of us. That my mother was raped and gave birth to me when she was only fifteen years old, and that I was born from hatred and put in this world only thanks to her.

“Was she, son? You were holding her against her will. Did you once stop to think she spread her legs for you in fear, so you’d not hurt her?” A slick, cruel smile pulls up the corner of his mouth, and the urge to punch him makes my hand jerk. “Consent is crucial, but so is the reason for giving it.”

A laugh erupts out of me, shocking us both with its anger. “What the fuck do you care about consent? Isn’t that what you ordered us to do? Take away choices? Turn Delilah against her father, by any means?”

“Even I have limits,” Father says, stepping toward me. Age has taken none of his height or lessened the intimidating glare we’re all so used to seeing. It’s only added to his stern, militant stature. The silver hair, no longer deep black, only heightens his features, making him look dignified and even more handsome.

“Do you?” I snap. “Because I have yet to see them.”

How dare he talk about consent? None of us could give consent to be taken to the school. Even I was too young to understand before I was sent there. We all were. I’ve always, always been careful when I touch someone. The fact he’s implying that I forced Cora makes my stomach knot grossly.

I rip my gloves off, tossing them toward the bottom of the stairs, worry, fear, fucking hatred for myself and Father, eating at my gut, then pull my mask off, tucking it in my back pocket. A dull pain throbs in my head. I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension building inside, and glance upwards to the second-floor landing.

I need to find Striker. He must be devastated to relive that day with our sweet Little Red.

Fallon stops a foot in front of me, looking me directly in the eye. Ice blue on ice blue. “I taught my syns that—“

“Your syns ,“ I hiss the word out, lacing it with venom. I continue, anger making me lose all reason, not caring about the consequences of talking back to the man who’s controlled my entire life, “Because that’s what we are, aren’t we? Your sins. Your dark, dirty secret. We’re your greed and hunger for power, for fucking wealth, in human form.”

Father’s jaw tics, eyes narrowing slightly at my outburst. I’m surprised that he clamps his mouth shut instead of barking out an order for me to remain silent. It’s not that I don’t fear him, he scares the shit out of me, but I’m no longer that boy in the school. I may still be his soldier, but I’m still me. The same boy who rebelled against orders and only followed them out of fear for my brother’s safety, not just my own. But I grew into a man who talks back and speaks my mind.

Who breaks rules and codes. Who Father says is just like him.

His favorite syn .

“Or do you not like that I gained their trust and respect without invoking fear?” I step closer, feeling my mouth twist into a vicious grin, mirroring his own. “Because that’s the only way you could ever gain ours.”

“Cruelty doesn’t suit you, boy,” Fallon says.

My laugh is sharp, cutting my throat. “Cruel is exactly what you taught me to be.”

Except with them. Not even Reaper could be as cruel as Fallon intended. How cruel he instructed. We were supposed to train her in the harsh way we were. Take her loyalty. Pull it from her as violently as Father did ours. Yet every moment we faced the task, we craved more than her loyalty.

We craved her.

Both of them, and it made all the years, and all the plans become meaningless.

“For god’s sake, boy. Both of them?” he asks.

My eyes snap to his. He searches my eyes, his brows knit, as if everything they mean to us is written on my face. Like he can see everything we’d hoped, everything we’d dream.

“You fucked Gavin’s daughter as well?” He curses quietly under his breath, disgust marring the word and turning it even more foul. “So now my soldier, my son , is a sexual deviant.“ His eyes turn cold and my gaze drops. “Viper is depraved in his lust for flesh, but I expect better from you.”

I want to ask what the fuck he means by calling Viper depraved, but I swallow my words when I see him watching me, waiting for me to react.

To defend Viper.

To give away something he probably suspects.

He mumbles another curse under his breath. “I had hoped the rumors weren’t true.” Reading my expression, he shakes his head, the disappointment on his face obvious. “You think the other families haven’t heard what my soldiers did? What I’ve had to defend? Gavin has footage of you in his club the night before you were ordered to take them.”

Fuck . Of course, Father would find out. Reaper insisted we go to the club, have them, let Gavin see how weak he was, and has been this entire time. That we could take anything, at any time, and did we ever.

I just don’t think he expected the girls would take from us, too.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Father’s head cocks to the side, his eyes boring through my skin, into my very soul. He rocks back on his heels and the move reminds me so much of our days back at the school that my stomach does a flip, making memories of our time there resurface. “Not only did you fuck up my orders and piss off the entire Devin family, an important family, mind you, you caught feelings for the daughter of the man who tortured my son.”

My gut twists as my eyes drop to his glossy black shoes. I’m glad I can’t see my face in them. I don’t think I’d like what I see.

“I taught my soldiers that flowery, pretty emotions are a weakness.” Fallon’s tone turns hard. “I taught my soldiers, my sons, respect. Honor. Tell me, Breaker, is there honor in caring about our enemy’s daughter?”

My teeth gnash together, and I refuse to answer.

The rage that my silence creates simmers under his skin, turning his features sharper and colder. Good. He doesn’t deserve my respect.

He never has.

I’m a fool that I gave it to him.

Fallon leans in, crowding me, but I don’t back down. “I also taught my sons to protect one another at all costs. And yet you keep failing me and each other.”

Pain stabs through my chest. It was a low blow, but I keep myself in check, not lashing back like I want to. He blames us for Hunter’s death.

I guess denial is easier than guilt.

“We did as asked,” I say.

“And you went against my orders, not just once but twice!” Fallon screams, his harsh voice slicing through the quiet foyer so sharply, I wince.

“We accomplished what we set out to do. We have Delilah’s cooperation, and—“

He steps back, smoothing his hands down the front of his suit, gathering himself, and I exhale slowly, unfurling my fists. “I never once instructed you to take the Julian girl. I never once told you to fuck Rune’s daughter.”

I lick my lips, trying to settle my stomach. How is it father can make my guts churn with fear, make me feel this sickening shame for something that I know deep in my gut isn’t wrong?

“Does Gavin’s daughter know?” he asks coldly. “The truth?”

Guilt settles in my gut, making my limbs feel heavy. I shake my head.

He emits another sound, less like laughter and more like disbelief. More like disappointment, and his next words hurt far worse than if he had taken his belt to my bare skin. “She’s going to hate you when she finds out.”

I shake my head again, as if doing so will keep his words from settling. But it’s true. I think we know it. Reaper certainly does. I think that’s part of why he’s been so fucking tortured. We all see how he is with her. Touching her. Like he has zero control of himself when she’s near.

But it’s true. When Delilah finds out, she’s going to hate him.

All of us.

Fallon’s jaw pops as he eyes me. “Did you all enjoy her company in this way?”

I grind my teeth, looking him square in the eye.

“Reaper?”

My silence is answer enough.

Fallon lets out a humorless laugh. “I expect this type of behavior from the Julian girl. She’s a whore like her mother, but—“

I bolt forward, gripping his jacket and pulling him up to his toes. “You do not call her a single foul word, do you hear me?”

That brow raises again, but he grips by hand in warning. I let him go and step back.

Fallon adjusts his suit, then props his hands on his hips, looking down at his feet, chest deflating on a sigh. I feel like a boy all over again. Fucking things up and waiting for his lecture and the following lashes from his belt.

Instead, he shakes his head and says, “It’s my fault. I should have known better than to send four young men to watch them. Of course, you’d get attached. This was bound to happen.”

He’s right. You can’t send four men to stalk two women for so long and not expect them to catch those fucking feelings he tried to remove from us. Yet we did. As much as none of us wanted this, and as much as it makes us vulnerable, we made them a promise. We made them ours . Now one of them was ripped from our grasp.

“Breaker.” Fallon’s soft tone makes my focus snap back to him. He cups my jaw and my heart hammers. Growing up, I never knew if I was getting Father or Fallon when he touched me, but when he smiles, my shoulders relax. “My son. You’ve always been too sensitive and that it my fault. But the Julian girl—“

“Cora,” I tell him. “Her name is Cora.”

His features harden as his hand drops. “She isn’t up for grabs.” Fallon takes a step back. He lifts his chin toward the staircase. “Take care of this mess you’ve made and make sure Rune’s daughter is still willing to cooperate. I don’t want this mission compromised because none of you can keep your dicks in your pants.”

I take in a lungful, watching his back as he stalks to the door.

Right as he steps through, he turns to face me. “Tell Reaper his obsession is going to cost him one day, and I won’t be around to clean it up next time.”