Page 41 of Viper

I’m a nosy fucker, so I watched each video recording of the girls at night when I couldn’t sleep, devouring every moment of them together in their rooms, hungry for more. When I came to the footage of Striker with her, I slowed the recording and heard every brutal detail about her mother.

His too.

Breaker once said Caroline deserved what happened to her. I never agreed. Her death was vicious. No human deserves that level of depravity.

Until I heard what she did to our girl.

Cora has not had a single person outside of Clyde and Delilah care for her. Love her. Then we stepped in and took over, making promises we couldn’t keep. Just like everyone else in her life.

I want to tell her she’s not alone anymore. I’m here. Breaker is here. Soon, Striker and Reap, and Delilah, and we’ll all be together again. That Rune will be dead, and she can lay it all to rest, but it’s a lie.

Delilah isn’t ready.

And I have no idea if they’ll want us after they know the truth.

Cora grabs her tank top off the floor, pulling it over her head, then pulls her button up shirt over her shoulders, avoiding my eyes. She moves past me and right when she reaches the door, she turns to face me.

“Don’t tell him, okay?” she whispers. “Don’t tell Reaper what Rune did.”

Chapter 14

Cora

Ibraceahandonthe back of Breaker’s chair, trying to keep from collapsing. My head throbs with each heartbeat, no doubt from last night, lack of food, and sleep, but that’s not the reason I feel unsteady.

It’s him. Viper.

Or rather Vince. Vincent Campbell of the Snyder Group. Ben’s associate and close friend.

“Vincent. Vince,” I say the name, tasting it. It actually fits him. It’s slightly rugged, masculine, and strong. Unyielding, yet weirdly gentle. “The name suits you.”

He leans against the wall covered with the pictures and lists cataloging Delly and my life, arms crossed over his massive chest, boots locked at the ankle in a wholly arrogant way that is similar to Reaper but lined with a sensual edge. His face betrays nothing, but also reveals so much. I catch his smirk at my obvious staring, and I have to look away to gather my thoughts.

Breaker grasps my wrist and pulls me until I’m in front of him, then tugs me down onto his lap, tucking my ass againsthis belly. In the chair across from us, Clyde studies Breaker’s every move as he positions me and wraps an arm around my waist. Like he’s taking in the way he’s touching me, examining how he grips my hips, adjusting me on his thick thigh. Assessing his ability to care for me. Deciding if he’s worthy and capable of keeping me comfortable and safe.

Whatever he sees loosens his shoulders and I exhale, relaxing too. But it doesn’t last long. I feel Viper’s stare on the side of my face, as hot as flames.

I dare another look his way. He’s not looked away from me since we gathered around the table in the loft with all the tech devices. The second our eyes lock, my belly flutters, little winged birds taking flight in a flurry of excitement.

I’ve had this maninsideme. Pleasured him.Tastedhim. Had his mouth on me. That thought, along with his entireself, has left me unbalanced.

Viper wasn’t exaggerating.

He’s striking.

Not in the way Breaker is, but in a way that’s deceivingly gentle, almost boyish. Viper’s handsome in a way that disarms. But there’s an air about him. Like he’s seen too much of this world. All the good and every single trace of the bad. Faint lines frame those vivid eyes, making his age impossible to pin down. He could be anywhere from his mid-twenties to late-thirties.

Breaker is so obviously young, and Striker, you can tell he’s in his early thirties by the air around him that crackles with experience. Reaper is, well, Reaper is on a whole different level of beauty, but he’s obviously the oldest. Each of them is so distinct, so maddeningly beautiful in their own ways, that I can’t say I’m mad that they’ve decided we belong to them.

Ripping my eyes off his thick thighs, I clear my throat, trying to refocus. “Is Vincent your real name?”

“No,” Viper says. “Vincent isn’t my real name, but should we cross paths—”

“Which she will,” Clyde adds in.

“—you must remember to call me Vince,” Viper finishes, tearing his eyes from me long enough to shoot Clyde a warning glare for the interruption.

Viper is a fitting name too.