Page 103 of Striker

Women.

Cora and me.

My chest constricts at the thought of them withotherwomen. With someone else besides us and I exhale slowly, not sure how to digest the thought.

I glance back up at his face, but it’s just darkness.

“He told me,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

I feel his body go completely still.

“About your brother.”

His fingers flex on my hip.

“Striker told me my father killed your brother. That’s what you call each other? Brothers? That’s why you want revenge. That’s what—who—Rune took.”

“Rune killed a piece of us,” Reaper says. “Viper, Striker, Breaker. They are the only brothers I have left.”

His family. The one he created.

I keep silent, hoping he’ll reveal more. Reaper has been so vague, they all have, and to possess this little piece of information makes me feel privileged he’s allowed me to hold one of his many secrets.

The feeling spreads in my chest, loosening that tightness. I want more. Of their secrets. Of him. Of them.

When he doesn’t explain further, I say, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Reaper says. “He was justified in killing him.”

My brows knit. “Justified?” I ask, moving closer to him, wishing I could see his face. I remember every bit of skin he’s let me see. The shape of his lips and the scars across them are burned into my memory like a brand. “Justified like you were in taking Cora and me?”

His grip tightens on my hip before he drops it and steps away, turning toward the door. “Get dressed.”

“Why?”

Reaper stops midway and turns around. “As much as I’d like to watch your ass bounce as you walked down the stairs, I have a feeling you’d prefer to be dressed for what I’m about to show you.”

My heart does this weird flip before it hammers. “What are you going to show me?”

Neither one of us is going back, but I’m smart enough to know that they didn’t do all this so we could stay in a crumbling mansion in the middle of nowhere forever. They have a plan, and it involves Cora and me.

“Get dressed, Kitten.” Reaper walks through the open door and says over his shoulder, “It’s time you learn what your father truly is.”

***

As we walk into the dining room, I wrap my sweater around me tightly, but the chill seems to have settled in my bones, refusing to leave, nerves jittering with dread. I’ve waited for weeks for answers and now I’m not so sure I want them. The things I've already learned are bad enough.

I stop in the doorway, surprised to find the room empty. I glance at Reaper’s back, then to a large box, like the ones that hold files, sitting on one of the dining room chairs.

“Sit down.” Reaper points to the table as he removes the lid from the box.

“I don’t want to,” I say, my nerves jumping higher.

“Trust me Kitten, you’re going to need to be sitting for this.” Reaper pulls out a file, but keeps it to his chest until I pull out a chair and sit. On instinct, I place my hands on the table, palms down, waiting. When I realize what I’ve done, I jerk them away and set them in my lap, focusing on my fingers as I curl them into the thick fabric of my sweater.

It appears they trained me well.

Taking a deep breath, I look up at Reaper’s masked face. “What’s in the file?” I ask as he opens it.

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