Breaker (Unmasked #3)

53. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Cora

C lyde left me a couple hours ago. It’s taken me only two hours to catch an Uber to my condo, change into clothes that didn’t come from a Dollar General, and pack a few items in a bag so I have toiletries and extra clothes at Clyde’s house. Even though we’ve not sat down to talk yet, I would bet every cent in my bank account he’s not going to let me go back to Rune’s house. Clyde walked in on Rune allowing, helping Zane hurt me.

He’s not going to forget that.

Gathering a few more items, my laptop, an extra charger, and my favorite fuzzy blanket, I check the time on my phone. It’s after midnight. Clyde left to talk to Rune around ten, and I’m surprised he’s not called, screaming at me for leaving his house. It won’t matter if I get back to his place before him, he’s going to know from his security footage that I left his house.

I glance around my condo, my skin pricking with unease. It’s obvious Rune came to look for clues after we were taken. The place is clean, a little too tidy, and all my things are just slightly out of place. My books rearranged from my pretty rainbow pattern, to complete chaos of blue books mixed with red. The pink vibrator in my nightstand moved. All my clothes are shoved to one side of my walk-in, the drawers rearranged. My fridge is empty and there’s no dishes in the washer or the sink, so he must have had the place cleaned. Funny since he knew I was going to come back.

The thought settles oddly.

Before I can think too long on that, I hear the faint beep of the electronic lock on my front door, telling me it’s been unlocked.

There’s only three people besides me who know the code. I grab my bag and head to the foyer but drop it when I see him.

My stomach lurches. “Rune.”

He doesn’t say anything. Rune just shuts the door, slowly, making sure to close it quietly, then hits the button to engage the lock. The loud beep as it secures closed crashes through my skull.

When I first moved out he would always yell at me for leaving my front door unlocked. Someone might come in and harm you, he always said. A young, beautiful woman, all alone? Anyone could just walk in.

The irony never failed to slap me in the face. The only one ever hurting me was him, and the locks never kept him out.

He always had the key.

His blue eyes catch me. I take a step back. My bag hits the floor. I can almost taste his rage. It’s tainting the air in the small foyer with its darkness. It’s written in his frigid, precise movements. My arms prick with goose bumps as he takes a step forward.

“What are you doing here, Papa?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. But then men like Rune never have to answer to small, powerless women like me. Instead, he stalks forward, never looking away, keeping me trapped in place with the hatred burning in his eyes.

I don’t have the chance to avoid the hit. The back of his hand connects with my cheek before I can even register what’s happening. My eyes tear, face and nose stinging as I stumble back. My hand flies to my face, air sucking into my lungs at the shock.

“What the fuck did you do?” Rune grips my arm and drags me him. My palms land on his chest, finger curling into his suit jacket. “Tell me what the fuck you said to him.”

Shit.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I gasp, looking up at him. Lie, lie, lie . I’m an excellent liar. “What happened?”

His brows knit, but he pulls me even closer, his face in mine. “Zane called it off. Tell me what you said to him.”

I shake my head, trying to move away, hoping he thinks my racing heart is from the fear of his anger and not that Zane somehow managed to figure out a way to rat me out without revealing himself. Zane’s good at that.

“Why did he call it off?” Rune asks, shoving me away.

I stumble, my back hitting the console table. “He called what off? The marriage?”

Rune’s eyes narrow as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. He’s not shaved today and his salt and pepper stubble give his features a slight edge. “Tell me what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say, putting my whole heart into the lie. “Why did he call it off?”

Rune huffs, eyeing me strangely.

“I can’t say I’m mad about it,” I say, smoothing my hand over my hair. “But I didn’t do anything.”

He points a finger at me, anger making his face red. “You better make yourself useful, girl,” he grates, “because you just fucked me over a lot of money and a good connection.”

I swallow, not liking the underlying meaning to his statement. Make myself useful. Isn’t that what he’s been doing with me for years. Using me?

He nods, like he’s figured something out in his head, slowly, eyes tracking my every movement, every breath, and that oily fear returns. “What did the big one say to you before they sent you back?”

Reaper.

“Nothing,” I snap, my gut twisting at the lie. “We’ve been over this. I don’t know anything.”

“You don’t know why one of them attacked Zane?” Rune asks.

My stomach crashes down to my toes. “What?”

He takes a step toward me. I can’t help it, I shrink back. The vase wobbles, and crashes to the floor. I nearly scream at the sound, my nerves frayed and raw.

“What happened?” I ask. “Is he okay?”

Jesus. Breaker. That’s what I saw in his expression this morning. Complete and utter rage.

“He’s in surgery,” Rune says. “He may regain full use of his hand, if he’s lucky.”

My hand flies to my mouth. I’m not sure if I’m stifling a gasp of horror or a laugh.

Rune lets out a curse, then backs away dragging a hand through his hair. “I should have known he’d retaliate.”

I know better than to ask who or what he means, but the statement snags in my brain. He must think that their father sent one of the men to attack Zane as a payback for forcing them to return me. Little does he know they’re already at his doorstep, invading his territory.

Rune’s eyes drop to my bag and his jaw tics. I don’t know how Clyde’s handled what occurred last night, but I can guess he’s managed to keep his anger in check. I don’t even know if he’s confronted Rune yet. If he even will. The fact Rune and him have been friends for so long means Rune must be used to seeing Clyde’s anger and vice versa. It makes me wonder how many times Clyde has turned a blind eye.

He has, after all, been feeding Reaper and the men information on Rune’s criminal activity for years.

Activity about his lodge.

Reaper’s words flash in my head.

“Cora.”

My gaze darts to the living room. Rune is sitting on my couch. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even notice him move.

He pats his lap. “Come here. Come sit on Papa’s lap.”

My heart kicks, my palms sweating, a different kind of fear settling in my gut.

“Come sit on Papa’s lap and talk with me.”

Make yourself useful.

Stupid, stupid, girl.

It never once crossed my mind what would happen if Zane called things off. I was so focused on not getting trapped in a nightmare that I failed to see the consequences of not complying with Rune’s demands. While I’ve ensured I’m free from Zane, I’m still trapped with Rune.

When I don’t listen, when don’t act like the girl he trained to be his sex toy, he bolts from the couch, stalking toward me with such anger, I freeze in place. He grasps my arm, mouth contorting into a snarl.

“Did you not want Zane because you knew we couldn’t play anymore?” he asks. Bile rises in my throat. “Is that why you fought me so hard? You would miss me?”

“No,” I hiss, glancing toward the door. How absurd this floundering hope in my chest. How stupid that I cling to the idea that maybe someone will appear. Rescue me yet again.

But no one knows where I am.

Rune drags me with him, tugging me down as he sits. My ass lands on his erection and I have to bite my cheek to keep the tears back. “Papa, stop.”

“ Shh, “ Rune whispers, his hand landing on my thigh, moving up toward my center. I squeeze my thighs together as his hand travels upwards, greedy fingers pushing between my legs.

Thank fuck I changed into jeans.

It doesn’t stop him from cupping me.

“Papa, please. Stop.” I hate myself for begging. He likes it, caves it, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. This feels so much worse somehow. So much more invasive and gross than before.

He leans in, wet lips brushing my ear. “Let your Papa play with you,” he whispers. “Let me play with my little girl the way you like it.”

My gut lurches, and I fear I may actually vomit. Rune’s nose brushes along my jawline, the movement tender, but he’s not being sweet. This is what he does before he unleashes his true self, and I end up having to stifle my screams.

Right on cue, his fingers weave into my hair and he jerks my head back. My arms fly out and I grip back of the couch to keep him from pulling me back any farther. “Does my little girl, not want to play?”

Play . How different a word can sound coming from a predator’s lips.

A tear slips out as I gasp, my head jerked back so far a sharp pain twinges in my neck. His fingers slithers over the seam of my jeans, moving up and down, stroking me, expecting me to give in and open like I did before I was taken. Spread my legs like his whore.

You’re ours.

I’m not his, my mind screams. I never was and I certainly am not now.

I belong to me.

And I gave this body, parts of my fucking heart, to them.

To Delly.

“Stop,” I say again, firmer this time.

He presses harder. Putrid breaths on my neck. Tongue slicking grossly over my throat.

My vision blurs. Tears leak down my cheeks.

“Stop,” I say again.

It all happens in a blur of movement. A chaos of sound. My hand hits his face. He grunts, letting me go. I push away and leap up. Run. A hand fists the back of my shirt. A shoe kicks at my ankles. My feet fly out from under me. A scream rips from my throat. Then, I’m down, cold marble tile meeting my face, my cheek hitting the floor. Pain making air suck into my lungs. Cruel fingers weaving into my hair. Agony exploding behind my eyes as my forehead hits the floor. Again. Again.

My vision moves in and out of focus.

Pain like a million exploding firecrackers in my head.

His hard body at my back. Moving over me. Hands on the waistband of my jeans.

Tugging. Tugging.

Air against my flesh. Fingers pulling me apart.

Heat and hardness and rage pushing between my ass cheeks.

No. No. No. But there’s no words. Just an anguished scream of a woman being brutally reminded of her place.

***

When my eyes open, I think for a minute that someone’s drilling into my head with a power tool.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice says. Raspy. The voice is raspy, lined with pain. I want to tell him he doesn’t need to worry about me moving, but pain in my skull, in other parts as I try to move, makes my words come out in a pathetic whimper. “I think you may have a concussion.”

My eyes blink open and his face comes into view, a little blurry, but my body relaxes as his brown eyes look down at me, a frown tugging the corners of his lips.

“Clyde, if you keep making that face, it’s going to stay that way.” When I go to laugh bile rises in my throat and I lean over the edge of the bed and heave, but nothing comes up.

Black boots move into my line of vision.

Then I remember.

“Cora,” Clyde says his voice so gentle it may as well be coming from another man. “Can you sit up?”

“She needs to go to a fucking hospital,” Breaker says, anger and panic making his voice gritty.

“No,” I manage. “I’ve had worse.”

I swallow and do a mental check. My head fucking hurts, and I’m dizzy but I don’t think it’s a concussion. My throat feels raw and my…

I grip my pants and find them up and buttoned. terror makes my heart race. Shame makes my shin wobble. “Who found me?”

“Me,” Clyde says. I didn’t think my heart could hurt anymore but it does from the way his voice cracks.

Breaker drops to a crouch, but all I can see as I hang my head over the side of the bed are his large, strong hands. I love his hands.

“Did, he…” His voice trails off, but I hear everything he’s not asking.

Using every bit of strength I have, I sit up, doing my best not to wince at the pain. My eyes catch Clyde’s and my stomach sinks. I have no idea what state Rune left me in after I blacked out, but from the expression on Clyde’s face, he must have seen more than I would have liked.

The fact that Breaker is asking if I was violated means Clyde didn’t tell him. Smart man.

“Cora.” Breakers voice sounds like chipped ice. Hard and splintered. “Did Rune hurt you?”

Here’s the thing when men ask if you’ve been hurt. If you tell them yes, you’ve been violated, they question your perception. Was it that bad? Did you draw his eyes, his attention? What did you do? Did you anger him?

If you tell them yes, and you convince them that you weren’t the cause of being assaulted, you have to deal with their fury. It becomes so big, so all consuming, sucking up all air, leaving no room for your own. Their anger at your violation makes your rage so small.

The problem with Breaker isn’t that he won’t believe me. No. The problem is he will, he won’t even question it. Considering what he did to Zane for just trying to harm me, Lord knows what he’ll do to Rune.

And I can’t have that.

Not yet.

So, I meet his beautiful eyes, brush my thumb along the lips that have tenderly given me so much love and affection, and I lie.

“Rune didn’t touch me like that.”