Breaker (Unmasked #3)

22. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Striker

V iper’s disappeared. I haven’t seen him for three days. At all. When he realized that Breaker left, left him behind, he walked away without a word, and we let him.

What was I supposed to say?

Nothing.

The three of us made a promise to each other while trying to survive in the midst of hell that we’d never be apart. We’d always protect one another. And for the last fifteen years, we have. Only ever separating for a few days at a time.

As difficult as it’s been, I’ve let him be, Reaper too. But this morning, Reaper flat-out ordered me to find him saying I’ll be the only one who could coax him out of this dark episode. When I finally find him, Viper is in his room sitting on the edge of his bed facing the windows.

The sunlight slants across the dimly lit room through the open curtains, cutting long lines of bright white over his black shirt. His back is to me, but I can picture his frown from his posture. His shoulders slump, hands in his lap holding something I can’t see. He hears me close the door, and turns his head, leaving his face in profile. My heart skips, seeing his full lips and the misery painting his features dark.

I hate it when he is upset. He either becomes quiet or grows angry. And from the fact we’ve not seen him, means he’s retreated into himself.

When I come to a stop next to him, Viper holds up his phone. “You know we’ve never been apart more than three days since he stepped foot into the school and we’re already on day three?”

I take the phone, unlocking it with my thumbprint. My heart aches as I read the message that came through the day he left in the encrypted messaging app Breaker created.

B: I’m sorry. She needs us.

“I know,” I say. None of us have. With the exception of Reaper leaving for the wilderness, the four of us never been apart for more than a few days at a time and even that’s been few and far between the last few years. Most missions we do together, or two of us leave for a day or two and return once the job is done.

His heavy sigh as I set the phone down and sit next to him, makes me want to wrap an arm over his shoulder, but I keep my arms crossed, looking out at the window at the line of trees, wondering if we’re ever going to be whole again.

Not that we ever were. Fallon took us, broke us, and then pieced us back together with cruelty, doling out handfuls of affection when we least expected it. And even though we all know it’s toxic, the love he gave us was all we’d ever felt outside of the bonds we formed with each other.

But that last night with them, I felt the hope. I felt the possibility. The sweet sensation of what if, what if…

“What are we supposed to do?” he asks. I glance at him and catch his furrowed brows and haunted expression. I know he means Cora.

“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him, guilt eating at my gut. I should have warned him Breaker was leaving, but I knew he’d try to stop him or try to go with him. Breaker defying Fallon is enough. God knows what he’ll do if the rest of us tried yet again to go against him. “Besides, he’s there, so we know he’ll literally kill anyone who tries to hurt her.”

Viper nods. “That’s what I’m worried about. He’s so reckless sometimes.”

My laugh makes him frown. “You’re reckless, Viper. Breaker is impulsive.”

“How does he plan on keeping someone from touching her?” Viper asks. “He didn’t think this through.”

I quirk a brow. “This coming from a man who thinks nothing through?”

He scoffs but grins when I nudge his shoulder with mine.

“He’ll figure something out. And in the meantime, we get Delilah prepared.” When he doesn’t answer I say, “She’s absolute shit with a gun.”

“According to you, everyone is a shit shot.” Viper smirks, leaning back on his palms, gaze dropping to where our thighs press together. I’m not sure which one of us shifted. Probably him. He’s always been handsy and a little greedy for touch. He glances at me. “Our girl isn’t made to fire a gun. She’s made to slice throats.”

I picture her with the various guns I’ve had her try in the last two days and I think he may be right. She’s not terrible, and she is improving already, but everything about Delilah with a gun looks and feels unnatural. There’s something slightly feline in her movements, with her entire demeanor. She’s smooth edged and a little feral. All the guns I’ve placed in her hands didn’t fit her.

“She has potential with the knife ,” Viper says, sitting upright. “Delilah is drawn to them. I think she likes the subtle violence, and the sharp edge.” He glances my way, and I see the gleam in his eyes has returned. “I’ll train her.”

My grin feels lopsided, and I tuck my chin to hide it. I fucking hate it when Reaper is right. “Good. Don’t go easy on her,” I say, even though I know he won’t.

He’s absolutely brutal when he’s training. I would know. Viper insisted on training me after we returned to the school.

He smirks, leaning back on his hands again, features softening, and I’m glad that sad look is gone. I hate seeing him low. When he gets like that, it’s hard to lift him back up. Breaker seems to be the only one to break his dark moods, so I’m glad I was able to.

Viper needs this. Princess needs to train with something she can excel at not just to boost her confidence, but her determination. Viper will be perfect for both.

“Has he told her yet?” he asks, eyes dropping to my lips, and I realize I’m still grinning, picturing Delilah with a knife, trying to slash Viper’s throat. I’m going to have to sit in on those lessons. I think he’s right. Our Princess is absolutely made for this.

When his gaze dips to my throat, then back to my mouth, I lick my lips, feeling how his body seems to tense and loosen all at once next to me. All thoughts of Delilah slip away and I’m suddenly a bit too aware of him. His clean citrusy scent. The warmth of his thigh against mine.

Of course, my head floods with the images of him on his knees before me, but I shove that away.

“Not yet,” I say my voice a bit hoarse. “Reaper wants her focused before he tells her our plans.”

Viper nods, eyes still on my mouth. “Is our girl still mad at us?”

My cock stirs, all of me flooding with fire and the memory if his mouth on my cock. Consumed with how his body language is shifting, changing. Heating up next to me. I swallow and his eyes dip to my throat again.

“I think she’s just upset at everything,” I say thickly, my gaze snaking down to his chest. Lower. His cock strains against his tight fatigues.

Shit. I move to stand up but he grabs my wrist.

“Stop running,” he says quietly. “Just stay.” He releases my hand when my gaze falls to his dick again. “Just sit with me for a bit? Like we used to?”

I breathe in, filling my lungs as memories crash through my mind. The school was harsh, and Fallon, the environment, did everything to break us down. Make as cold and roughly hewn as our surroundings. And it did for the most part. But I don’t think Fallon thought how when you put people together in a cruel place, they bond to one another. They seek comfort where there is none given.

My brother’s and I may be callous and cold, but we still kept space for one another. Breaker was so young, so naive in many ways, and his need for affection forced us all to soften.

We’ve grown up together. Fought for our lives together. Clawed our way through the last few years, trying to piece ourselves back together after Hunter’s death. We’ve fucked the same women, watched each other come with eyes open and our hearts bleeding.

We’ve hoped for the same things. Craved the same bodies.

We’ve formed our own family.

With a slight nod, I sit and lie back, crooking an arm under my head, my boots still planted on the floor. Viper lies down next to me, propping a heel in the edge of his bed. His shoulder presses tightly to mine but I find I like the contact. After a minute the tension evaporates, and I feel myself and him relax.

Keeping my eyes on the ceiling, they trace the cracks in the paster, down to the ornate crown molding to the peeling blue wallpaper. Marie Antoinette blue Breaker calls it. He was such a weird kid.

Then again, none of us have any clue what he endured after Fallon took him from the cold room. A shudder runs through me at the thought of three-year-old Breaker being left hungry and cold in that room for three days.

He never told us where he was before the school, just said he didn’t remember and left it at that. I have a feeling that’s a lie, but I never pushed him. Just like we never pushed him to tell us how he earned his name.

We all found out eventually.

Shit. I miss Breaker, too.

I turn my head to look at Viper’s profile. He’s so stupidly sexy that it’s an assault to the senses. “Did he ever tell you why he calls it Marie Antoniette blue?”

He grins, shaking his head. “No. But it does remind me of the dress in her portrait.”

The backs of our hands brush. I don’t pull away and neither does he. We let them stay like that, flesh on flesh, slightly warming each other in the chilly room.