Breaker (Unmasked #3)

33. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Breaker

M y heart races as I lead her up the stairs to the third floor. Nervousness grips me, a feeling I haven’t experienced since the day I sat in the park, my enemy at my side, and we agreed to help Harlow take down Rune.

We reach the top floor, and she pauses, surveying the room. I step back, letting go of her hand and giving her space as I attempt to see it from her perspective.

The loft area sits at the back of the factory, with massive windows offering a view of downtown. The only furniture is a long wooden table holding my equipment, metal folding chairs tucked around it. Along one wall hangs weapons, more gear, and monitors. All of them.

Cora leans forward, removing her heels and holds them in one hand, as she takes a tentative step forward, her eyes glued to the screens.

She lifts the hand holding her heels, gesturing at the wall. “That’s the outside of my condo.” She points to another screen. “And that’s Delly’s.”

“Yes,” I say and point to another screen. “And that’s Rune’s house and the offices.”

Each screen contains several livestreaming footage of their homes and the office building from various angles. I turned them back on when I arrived, using them to help me track Cora’s movements.

“You couldn’t get inside?” she asks.

Her question catches me off guard. “Rune has weekly security sweeps looking for any devices.”

“He’s paranoid.” She takes another step into the room, her eyes focused on the monitors. “It got worse about five years ago,” she adds, glancing at me. “I assume when he killed your brother?”

Fucking Viper. I wonder what else he told her.

“It seems like he had good reason to be paranoid,” Cora remarks as she moves further into the room. My stomach tightens with anticipation. Any minute now, she’s going to see…

Her heels drop to the floor. The noise clatters through the loft, and I wait for her to show signs of…

Something. Anything.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or horrified,” Cora says, staring at the wall covered in pictures and lists.

“We needed intel,” I explain. “We monitored both of you.”

“You mean you needed information on Delly.” Her tone suggests we just cared about Delilah. That we only included her because she was close to our target.

How wrong she is.

We didn’t need to follow Cora. To spend years discovering her favorite movies and what shampoo she used. We did because we had to know every detail about the two women we secretly desired.

Cora’s brows furrow as she moves closer to look at the images we took of them over the years. Pictures cover every inch of the wall. There are snapshots of the two walking in the park, at the beach, sneaking into a taxi to go to Rune’s club the night we met them for the first time face to face. They did that often, taking a taxi instead of the driver Rune provided, so he couldn’t track their movements.

We did, though.

We always did.

“How long has Clyde been involved in gathering information for you?” she asks, and I note that she doesn’t say stalking, much to my relief. Because that’s what we did. We tracked and stalked our prey, learning their every move and every desire until they were so ingrained in us we could predict what they would do.

And then it was time.

The night Cora finally convinced Delilah to leave her house after months of depression, we knew she’d be ready to break free. Fallon trained us well. He’s a master manipulator and a liar—and we are now, too. Reaper is terrifying in his ability to cut off emotions and act, though I’ve never seen him as passionate as he is with our girls.

“Four years,” I tell her, keeping my distance as I watch her. She’s absorbing everything, but barely reacting, and I can honestly say that’s not what I expected, though it is concerning.

That’s the thing with people, though. You can predict their actions, but you can never predict their emotions.

Cora’s stoney facade makes me worry she’s lying about being harmed, far more than the obvious hit to her face. She’s displaying clear signs of dissociation. She’s barely even here, and it’s tainting my every thought with red rage. Striker does the same thing, sort of floats away and gets lost when things are too much. Reaper notices more than the rest of us. Then again, he pays more attention.

“Why?” Cora leans in to examine a picture. My heart skips when she nears the image I’ve been dreading her seeing, but she gets distracted and moves to another one of her and Delilah in the park after the summer solstice lighting. The night we first saw them. “What information is Clyde feeding you and why?”

“Rune’s activity. And ways to get close to him.”

Her brows knit, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip, trying to understand. “What did Rune do that Clyde would betray him? He’s been with Rune forever. They’ve been friends for years.”

I take a minute to answer, deciding how much to tell her. “Rune crossed a line when he killed our brother. One even Harlow won’t step over,” I say, waiting for her to say something. When she just continues to stare at the wall, I continue, “What Rune did to our brother went far beyond seeking justice. It would make your stomach turn, Little Red. Rune’s cruelty knows no bounds.”

“Will you tell me?” she says but shakes her head when she sees my frown. “Not about your brother, but about the rest. Who you are. The connection. Why Rune? I need to understand.”

I look up at the metal ceiling, knowing I owe her this.

Cora deserves the truth.

I tell her most of it. A condensed version. I tell her some about the school and how Fallon trained us to be soldiers to use for his financial gain. The bits I explain about the wilderness only detail how Father used the land around Rune’s lodge. How he and Rune were old friends, but even that I skim over. When I tell her about Rune killing Hunter after he captured him five years ago, she scowls, interrupting me.

“Why were you storming his lodge?” she asks. “What did he do that you were going to kill him?”

Delilah’s face flashes in my mind. Cora can’t know. I can’t tell her. Not yet. Our Tiny Thing, my brave, strong girl, she’d be so angry with me if I told Cora before she could. I know she wants to be with her when Cora finds out, so I lie.

It feels like shit. Every word like a hot coal burning my tongue as I say, “An old deal gone wrong.”

She nods, accepting this because that’s how much faith they’ve put in us. That’s how much she’s trusting me, us, right this second.

“Let me get this straight. You’re Snyder,” she says, eyes slightly dazed. “You’re….

“Ben Snyder,” I say. “The face of Snyder Incorporated.”

“Okay.” A deep beath. “And you plan to gain Runes’ trust to get into his lodge. So you’re selling him weapons.” Cora pulls at her bottom lip, thinking, then says, “Is he having large game shipped in? Like, is he hosting illegal game hunts?”

My gut lurches, uncomfortable memories assaulting me. “You could say that.”

When it’s time, and we can finally tell her the truth, I wonder if our Little Red will remember this moment and accuse me of lying like Delilah did.

She doesn’t respond and just stares numbly at the wall of pictures. Between whatever happened tonight and what I just told her, I worry I may have sent her over the edge. It’s killing me not knowing what happened. Everything in me wants to force her to talk, tell me so I can figure out a way to prevent it from happening again. But it’s obvious she isn’t, so I must accept that she’ll tell me when she wants to.

If she wants to.

Still, it eats at me. Harlow’s angry, mortified expression tells me it was bad, and I keep picturing Zane or Rune forcing her to do vile things, but I have to shove it away because that tightness clenches my lungs. That dark, slinking feeling gathers in my chest, and I worry it will break free, and there will be no stopping me from killing them both.

I’d be doing the world a favor, but then the hunts would just continue. And we’ll never get what we need. What Reaper needs.

I have to wait.

We have to wait for Delilah to be ready for any of this to work.

Cora glances around, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. “I’m tired.”

My exhale is one of pure exasperation. Of course, she’s tired. She must be exhausted. In every way possible. She’s been trying to survive the devil.

I’ve never felt so ill-equipped to handle a situation in my life. As children, we were each other’s only support at the school. We are bonded by cruelty and secrets. And made into hard, cold soldiers. Cora and Delilah are soft, gentle creatures compared to our harsh, jagged edges. I have no idea how to care for her properly. All we do is fuck and move on. We didn’t stay in any place long enough to form any bonds with people, even if we wanted to.

Until them.

Then we latched on to Cora and Delilah like crazed, starved men and become obsessed with them. As much as Reaper has done his best to keep this a mission, we all know it was a lie.

He’s just as obsessed.

Fallon’s words drift through my mind like poison.

She’ll never forgive you. She’ll hate you when she finds out the truth.

He’s right. And Cora will, too.

“Shouldn’t I be the one having a breakdown right now?” Cora says, snapping my thoughts back to the tiny redhead before me. “You look like you’re having an existential crisis.”

Little does she know I am.

I take her hand and lead her to the stairs. “You’re staying here tonight.”

“I have to go back,” she says, tugging her hand free. “I can’t stay here. Rune will—“

“Rune will believe whatever Harlow tells him,” I say, gripping her wrist and pulling her along. “You’re staying with me tonight, and we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

She doesn’t protest. She must realize there’s no room for argument. I guess she learned a few things about us the last few weeks.

When we reach my bedroom door, I glance at her as I push it open, watching her reaction to my personal space. She takes a step through the door, and I realize just how much she trusts us. She’s trusted us with her body. She’s trusting us with her safety. That we’re true to our word and will find a way to steal her back.

She doesn’t know us. Neither woman does. They know our bodies and how we make them feel on a physical level, but they don’t know us as men. That we’re all broken pieces taped together by our loyalty to one another. They don’t know that the love we gave each other was the only true affection we received in such a cold and unforgiving environment. That it morphed and changed over the years.

Father’s love hurt. Fallon had none to give, only scars that we carry inside and out.

“Nice,” she says, looking around my room.

I grab a shirt from my dresser and hand it to her. She rubs the material of the cotton between her fingers, looking around at my books and the thick, creamy comforter. The blinds covering the small window. How soft and delicate everything looks against the chipped walls and metal struts overhead.

“It was you,” she says. “The bedding. You made sure we had nice things.”

And dresses, but I keep that to myself.

I step back into the hall, my hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Sill gently caressing the shirt, her startling green eyes meet mine. “Are we talking water or something to numb my brain?”

“How numb?” I ask.

“Completely blank.”

I nod as I back away. “Change, and then we’ll go to bed.”

Her eyes dart to the large bed. “We?”

Her smile makes me grin as I shut the door.

Yeah. We.