Page 107 of Striker

The images Reaper showed me flood my mind again.

He made me a part of this and I let him. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know.

“You’re spiraling.” Breaker’s voice centers my thoughts and I suck in a breath. The chair to my left scoots out, legs grating across the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see his massive frame sit next to me. “Come here.”

Breaker pats his thick thigh. During those days of feeding me, I’d sat on his lap so many times that the thought right now shouldn’t flood me with heat. My eyes fly up to his face and hismask. That first night, I thought they were wearing costumes. Just four men out for a raunchy night and Cora and I were the lucky girls they had in their sights.

But they lied to and manipulated us.

“Come sit, pretty thing,” he says. “Talk to me.”

“So you can lie to me some more?”

His fingers curl into his pants, but he pats again. “When did I lie?”

My brows furrow. “Asks the man who wears a mask to hide his identity and kidnaps and murders people.”

“If you are trying to tell me that withholding information is the same as lying, you wouldn’t be entirely incorrect,” he says and pats his leg again. “But we never looked you in the face and lied. We withheld information until you were able to handle the truth. That’s protecting, not lying.”

My shoulders droop. They lied by omission. They fed me information slowly. Giving me tidbits because they knew the scope of this would ruin me. If anything, I’m the liar. I’ve lied to myself my entire life. I worked for a ruthless man and was letting him mold me into a version of himself. I watched him grow powerful and rich and wanted the same things.

I told myself I did. I don’t want that now. All the things I wanted in life feel so unimportant now. The only thing that matters is keeping Cora safe.

And stopping Rune.

Breaker grips my wrist. I’m pulled forward, slightly too rough, and he places me on his lap. I settle down, expecting his erection, but just feel his thick thigh and him pressing his mask to my shoulder. He takes a long, slow breath. These men and the whole smelling thing.

I don’t hate it.

I don’t hate any of them.

I don’t think I ever did.

“You can’t tell Cora,” I whisper, my eyes gravitating back to the box. “It’ll kill her to know. She’s not ready.”

“I won’t,” Breaker says, running a hand up my back, his fingers moving over the dips in my spine. “None of us will until you give us the okay.”

I nod, relaxing under his soft touch.

When did this happen? That first week after they took us, I was so alone, so starved for any interaction. Then I had their attention on me so much for those few days that I liked being with them. Then they left us alone after I got Cora back and I wanted them around.

Now…

Now I have it and I want even more.

“You were supposed to be a mission,” he whispers. “A job. We weren’t supposed to care if you were scared or confused.” He breathes out a heavy sigh, warming my shoulder through my sweater.

“You took me, intending to turn me against my father,” I say for him.

I feel him nod.

“Yes. We were to take you, manipulate you, fuck with your head a little, force you to help us by any means, and that was it. You were supposed to be nothing. Just a hot cunt to have some fun with and convince to follow along with everything we said. But we fucked up.”

I try to shift to face him, but he doesn’t let me. He presses his cheek to my back. Out of all of them, Breaker has seemed the kindest. Not quick-tempered. He laughs. He takes part in whatever Reaper asks him to do, but he’s not cruel. If anything he’s felt the safest out of all of them.

“By fucking us?” I guess.

He chuckles. “By caring that you cried.”

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