Breaker (Unmasked #3)

35. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Breaker

“ W hy are we in the men’s bathroom?” she asks, her voice echoing in the large open space.

I set Cora down on the cold tile floor looking around at the chipped and cracked paint, once white but yellowed with age. The open shower stalls with rust stains weeping down the faded tiles, the row of urinals, the booths with toilets at the back. We never bothered to renovate it since it had showers and toilets. That’s all we needed.

Seeing her, this perfect woman with soft skin, and fragile limbs, I wish we had taken the time to at least repaint. But we’re so used to ugly things, it never crossed our mind.

Now… maybe…

Maybe we can have things that are new. Clean. Soft like her.

“The women’s washroom is next to this one. Would you rather clean up in there?” I tug at her shirt to lift it over her head, but she clamps it down, holding it in firm little fists at her sides.

Her eyes dart to up mine. “Clean up?”

The cagy expression taking over her delicate features unsettles the open, light feeling in my chest and makes me take a step back. I ignore how her eyes fall to my still semi-hard dick, hanging out of my open pants. I knew if I didn’t get her cleaned up and out of my bed, I’d keep her there all day, but we have too much shit to do.

Or rather, Ben does.

Besides, Harlow will be here soon and I don’t want to be balls deep in her when he arrives. Plus, I need to get her a change of clothes since she has nothing but her ruined dress and heels.

“Go pee.” I point to the row of stalls as I turn one of the shower knobs on the far wall. The spray hits my arm. I step away to remove my pants, noting that she’s both not moving to relieve herself like I said and watching my every move.

The way her face remains frozen, emotionless, stirs up my thoughts, making me uneasy. There’s no lust in her gaze as I remove my slacks and stand before her naked. No, she’s got that slightly wild look in her eyes she gets when she’s panicking.

It sets my teeth on edge because I don’t understand why she’s upset about being in the bathroom with me.

I point again to the stall at the back of the restroom. “Go.”

The need to remind her that she’s prone to UTIs sits at the tip of my tongue, but I keep the reminder in my mouth. Now’s not the time to reveal how much I know about her. We followed her to every doctor’s appointment, and I hacked the computers at the offices to see what prescription she was getting filled because the thought of her being sick made me ill.

It’s best to keep that to myself since the look on her face already screams with anxiety. The last thing she needs to know is the man she’s just fucked knows things about her that even Delilah doesn’t.

With a deep breath, she finally does as I ask, walking to the back of the room and closing the stall behind her. I step under the shower spray, my stomach in knots, as I watch her emerge from the stall a minute later.

There’s something wrong.

“Come here,” I say, crooking my finger. She doesn’t move. My teeth grind. “Cora.”

My tone makes her bite her lip. Unease grips my gut.

She said he didn’t violate her last night, but I swear to god I think she’s lying. If I just fucked her after she was abused, I may actually have to—

“I don’t have any clothes,” she says, watching me watch her.

“I’m going to leave and grab you something to wear before Harlow arrives,” I tell her, trying to keep my shit together as I turn my face to the warm spray. I let the rushing water slip over me for a minute, waiting for her to join me. She’ doesn’t. When I blink away the water drops to look at her, I see she’s still not moved.

Knots. My stomach, my chest, my heart is twisted into a painful knot. “Harlow texted me this morning. He’ll be here soon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Still no movement. I’m used to our Little Red not obeying orders, but this is different. This isn’t her being defiant to irritate me. She’s worried about something. Scared.

“Did you follow him too?” she asks, clutching again at the shirt. It falls to her knees and she’s so tiny, it would be adorable and sexy if she wasn’t making me so nervous.

I take another deep breath, letting her take the conversation in another direction. It’s possible everything I told her last night is hitting home and that’s why she looks like she’s about to dart for the door. “Harlow has helped us gather intel for the last four years. We’ve kept an eye on him as well. He’s known all along we followed him too.”

I watch her face as she absorbs this, her fingers curling into the sides of her shirt. Shit . Something happened. And she’s hiding it under that shirt.

“Little Red,” I snap, my voice too harsh as I step from under the water and stalk toward her. The woman can’t seem to help herself because her eyes fall to between my legs. If I wasn’t so eaten up with worry, I’d be hard with the way she’s looking at me but she’s hiding something. “Take off your shirt off.”

She shakes her head.

“Cora.”

“I told you they didn’t touch me in that way,” Cora says. My shoulders ease. “Clyde stopped them.”

Them . Jesus Christ. I’m just now realizing she’s been saying them .

“I swear nothing happened last night,” she says like she can read my thoughts. I must look relieved because she continues. “But Rune…”

Fucking Christ. I grip the shirt and rip it over her head, not caring about her protests, her angry little cry of alarm, or that fact I’m being too rough with her.

I scan her body, looking for signs of abuse when I see it.

Rage is a strange emotion. It can hit all at once or sneak up on a person like a rising tide, slowly, until it covers your mouth and eyes, and you’re suddenly drowning.

“He bit you?“ It’s not so much a question as a hiss of air exiting my lungs, tainted with disbelief. We suspected Rune may have been hurting her over the years, but I never once thought it was sexual. The thought never crossed my mind. It was too horrific.

When she told us about him, I think I must have gone into shock because I could barely comprehend what she was saying.

He was hurting her.

Rune hurt our girl.

Seeing the evidence on her skin makes it real.

So does the thrumming need for blood coursing through me.

Noise fills my head, drowning out all sounds. I hear her telling me he just bit her, just bit , like that’s not enough to justify my rage, and that he didn’t assault her.

Like she’s reassuring me.

Our Little Red is trying to make me feel better about the violence inflicted upon her.

The reality makes my gut churn. I want to tell her she doesn’t need to soothe me. I’m not the one that needs reassurance. I’m not upset with her, but the room tilts slightly, and I think I may pass out from the surge of anger, rage, fear, and the absolute need for destruction that hits me so hard my lungs decompress. I press my hand to the wet tile wall, trying to stop the thunder clashing in my head.

“It’s not okay,” I manage and her brows pinch.

“It’s not that bad,” she says. “He’s done worse.”

“That’s worse , Cora,“ I hiss as my blood courses with toxic venom.

I need to break something. Ruin. Destroy. I can’t imagine what I must look like right now. Viper says I’m a scary mother fucker when I’m angry and coming from him means I must look homicidal to her.

I feel like a raging maniac. Twisted up and sick with fury.

That’s when I see the stitches.

I know instantly what it means. It was Viper who followed them to the doctor’s office and me who downloaded the files onto my laptop to see why they went.

Birth control implants for both of them.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

But it’s been removed after she was returned to Rune so she could marry Zane. That rage bubbling over a minute ago is now a hot volcano of fury, making it hard to think. To breathe. Making it difficult to see past the fact he plans to put a child in my woman.

In our woman.

“Can you say something?” Cora asks. “You’re freaking me out.”

I can’t say anything because nothing logical comes to mind. She’s right about what she said earlier. I’m a fucking animal. And my animal brain has too many things happening in it right now to form a coherent sentence.

I’m relieved he didn’t sexually assault her. I’m angry she obviously hurt. I’m enraged we put her in this situation to begin with. I’m furious that she was alone and scared, and I hate myself for not being there to protect her.

He hit her. He bit her.

I want to put her in my chest. Stop this agony that’s ripping through me, and that’s so selfish; I hate myself even more because all it would do is ease my guilt. But the need to hide her away and protect her is overwhelming because I know in just two hours, I have to hand her over to Harlow.

Then there are the two other thoughts. The two most primitive thoughts crashing through my head are so vile, I don’t want to stain her with them.

The first part of my brain is telling me to pick her up, take her back to my bed and fuck her senseless. Fuck her again. Then again. Keep her tied up, in chains if need be, and fuck her over and over, fill her up with so much of my cum, she’ll not be able to walk without leaking it down her thighs. Until there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind she’s carrying my child. Not that fucking demon’s but mine. I didn’t even know this was a kink of mine until right this second.

No, not a kink, an absolute need .

“Breaker?”

Deep breath. My lungs burn. “Yes, Little Red?”

She bites her lip, drawing my eyes. “Your face is doing that thing again, and I don’t know what it means.”

It means everyone who’s ever seen me, the real me, was right. I’m a fucking monster.

Her eyes drop to my cock. My very hard, very needy cock that wants very primal things.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, stepping under the shower with me.

My second thought? The one that’s currently taking over my animal brain is simple.

Death. Destruction. Kill.

I’m going to be the one to fucking kill Rune Gavin.

And I’ll smile as I’m ripping him apart.