Page 52 of Viper

Reaper kneels, one hand on the floor, arm shaking, barely keeping him upright. Blood coats his tanned skin, and thick slices mar his back from the belt carved deeply into his flesh. Several lashes hit his shoulder and biceps, oozing wet scarlet.

“Jesus,” I whisper, ripping my eyes from Reaper to look at Father. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Those cold eyes burn into me, and he grips my shoulder, his hand drawing back.

“Why do you hate him?” I yell, wincing, bracing for his hit.

Father drops his fist. “I do not hate him!” he screams, the madness in his tone bouncing off the walls. “He is my son!”

Reaper’s arm quivers, but he remains upright. We need to get him to Doc, but I’m too scared to move.

“But this constant interference has to stop.” Father’s scream tears through the hallway, and I flinch. Father is controlled and precise. Now he’s wild and enraged, a terrible monster on a warpath to remove any signs of weakness from us all. “This affection he has for all of you, it is a weakness. Love is a weakness!”

It’s like he hears his words, the absolute madness in his tone, echoing back to him, and he takes a step back, smoothing down his shirt. “Reaper was born to be strong. Bred to be a soldier. I made sure of it. But he’s the weakest of my sons.”

Father takes another step away, and my body eases. I dare a glance around and spot Cook at the start of the hall, but realize Hunter is nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t be in his room, standing by while Father unleashed his fury on our brother. He’d be a snapping dog trying to stop him.

The realization he’s not here sends a dark, creeping terror slipping under my skin. With a subtle movement of my hand, I gesture for Cook to come closer.

“Father,” I say, keeping my tone even. Like if I speak slowly and clearly, he won’t slip back into a fit of rage. “Where is Hunter?”

A cutting laugh slips out of him. He motions to the last door in the hall. Hunter’s room. “Locked away,” he snarls. “He tried to take half of the punishment.Half.”

Of course he did, I think as my shoulders drop, tension unwinding a fraction. That’s what they do. What we all do.

Father trained us to obey his code. We are a unit, yet every time we stand together, try to protect one another, he goes into a rage. Like the bond he ensured we created with one another, is traitorous. Because we care more for each other than for him.

My gaze slips to Reaper as his arm gives and he leans over, placing his forehead on the dirty floor. A deep ache rattles my heart, seeing him so wounded. In pain. Once again trying to protect us.

I sense Cook coming up behind me. Taking a chance, I lean down, keeping an eye on Father as I brush Reaper’s sweaty hair away from his face. Tears prick my eyes, and everything in me screams to take care of him, but I have to calm Father down. Redirect him.

Reaper turns his head to look my way, teeth gnashing together as he winces. Blood slips over his back from the open gashes, gathering at the base of his neck. His black eyes meet mine, and an icy dread climbs down my spine.

Father has left us brutally bruised, skin laced with cuts, but the violent rage it took to create such deep slices in Reaper’s skin is like something I’ve never witnessed from him. The monster Father keeps tightly leashed was just freed, and Reaper got caught between its teeth.

“We need to get him to the infirmary,” I say, my tone controlled. “These will get infected, and we can’t lose our strongest soldier.”

Trying to use logic on a wild tiger may well end up with me tied back to the pole on the roof, but I’ll do anything at this point to get him away from Reaper.

When I stand up, Father looks down at Reaper, and I swear I see a flash of remorse. He turns to Cook, who’s keeping me between him and Father. “Get him to the infirmary. He just needs a few stitches.”

I curl my fingers into my fist, staring down at the criss-cross lines over Reaper’s back and arms. He’s going to need more than a few.

I help Cook drag Reaper to his feet, my pulse skipping when he staggers. I grind my teeth, pressing my eyes closed at the sight of him. At the horror of what our father has done.

Father jabs a finger into my chest, drawing my focus back to him. “One day you will learn that to love is pain. Because the one you love will always, always betray you.”

Chapter 18

Delilah

LastnightItossedand turned, barely sleeping. Sick of lying in bed, I rose at sunrise, dressed in a tank and pulled on a large sweater with big round buttons, figuring my TEAM PLAYER hoodie was best left in the armoire. Then I slipped on leggings and boots, tucking my knife neatly against my thick sock, and sat down to wait.

But the waiting is just as torturous as lying in bed unable to sleep, so I’ve resorted to pacing. My stomach twists with every creak of wood, and I can’t seem to calm myself even though I know it’s just the house settling.

I feel out of sorts. Like someone sliced me up and put me back together the wrong way. I never thought I’d so desperately long to be at Reaper’s side, but here I am, locked in my room, once again my jail cell, wishing he was here. Wishing Striker were here too.

Viper.