Page 95 of Striker

They’ve been telling me over and over and I refused to listen.

He’s not who you think he is. He’s a bad man.

When they had me on that table, I could feel it. The possessiveness. They’ve been telling me for weeks and I wasn’t accepting it.

I think I’ve known from the beginning. They claimed me—us—that night and I let them. They told me and I was too stupid to even hear it. Breaker told me in the club. I belong to Reaper. To them. They wanted me compliant. Submissive. And now they have me being all that for them without even having to try too hard.

I’m theirs. I belong to them. To punish. To please.

“You never planned to give us back,” I whisper, my heart twinging with a strange sort of ache.

What’s the worst type of pain you could inflict? Take something and never return it. Or worse. Take something from someone and turn it against them. And they’ve slowly been doing just that.

“No,” Striker says. “We aren’t.”

His answer is so final that I know I’m never leaving them. My own mind wouldn’t allow it when I had the opportunity.

A strangled sob escapes and I turn my face, burying it in my shoulder. The loss of everything I’ve ever had slams into me. My condo. My life and the dreams I had of taking overmy father’s company. The silly dream of someday settling down with someone who actually loves me, not for my name or money, but because I’m me.

My father.

God. I’ve lost my father in a far worse way than I lost my mother. I’d rather have watched him die like I did her than have the truth ripping me apart.

But all of my love for him, my future with him, is lost anyway. Because it was all a lie. My father is a brutal man, but he always seemed to love Cora and me so much. Yet, he didn’t love her. You can’t hurt someone like that and love them. Love isn’t cruel. It’s supposed to protect and nurture. Now all my memories of him are stained. I want nothing from him again. And the worst part is they didn’t even have to convince me. Cora did it for them.

“Was this the plan the whole time?” I open my eyes and stare at him, drinking in his features. I’ve spent weeks with him. Shared moments that have been more intimate than that night in the club and I’m finally seeing his face. He’s beautiful. Sculpted full lips, hard jaw, stern but soft eyes. He’s a contradiction of himself. Soft lines and jagged edges. My heart hammers painfully. “Why? Why like this? What did he take from you?”

“You’ve been asking the wrong question,” Striker says, and I can’t seem to look away, completely mesmerized, like I’ve never seen a human man’s face before.

His words slam into me and I blink, scrambling to stand upright. He stays kneeling in front of me and part of me is glad. He’s too big. Too male. Too real. Before he was a mask. Faceless. Now he’s this man with expressions and sadness in his eyes.

I clench my jaw. I want to scream at him so that vulnerable expression is removed from his face.

“Who,” he whispers. “Not what Princess, but who.”

I remember the lock screen.

There were five of them. Now there’s just four.

“Who?” I ask. “Who did my father take from you?”

Striker sucks in a breath, and for the first time I can see how his jaw tightens. See how his brows furrow, like he’s remembering something he doesn’t want to. His eyes meet mine and I press my hand to my chest to keep my heart in place because it feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces.

“Our brother,” he says. “Rune Gavin killed our brother.”

A thousand questions run through my head, but I just say, “Why?”

“Revenge.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shakes his head. “That part will come later. All you need to know right now is that he brutally murdered our brother. He held him for weeks. Tortured him in ways, even we can’t fathom.”

I know my father has killed people, ordered people to be killed. Rivals or anyone who threatens his family or finances, or his role of political and business mogul favorite. But what Striker just said means my father is far worse than some business tycoon who craves power and money. He’s cruel. For fun.

Cora. He is cruel to her. He gets off on it.

Panic slams into me, making my heart race. I knew when I spent that night with these men that he could never find out. He’d go crazy and want them killed for touching me. What will he do now if he actually gets his hands on them?

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