Page 27 of Striker

“Fuck you, man,” Viper hisses, shoving again at Breaker’s chest. “Just fuck you!”

Breaker smirks, gripping his hard cock and shakes it tauntingly. When Viper shoves him again, Reaper barks out, “Enough!”

Chest heaving, and Viper noticeably hard, the two men back away from each other, Breaker grinning and Viper scowling.

“We are a unit,” Reaper says with a sigh. “We are brothers. What one does, we all do.”

“So I can go jerk off all over them too?” Breaker asks. “Because my balls hurt right now.”

Before Reaper can respond, a loud scraping noise cracks out from the camera on Delilah, making him clamp his mouth shut and lean forward. We all stop and inch closer to the screen, focusing on her tiny body dragging a chair across the room.

“What is she doing?” Breaker asks, gripping the back of a chair and leaning in closer.

“Probably something destructive,” I say, watching as she has to stop for a minute to catch her breath. She’s not eating enough, or drinking enough, and she looks like she’s lost weight.

“Isolation twists your mind,” Reaper says, finger tapping at the keyboard to change cameras. “You, Breaker, know more than anyone how being left alone makes you go crazy.”

Next to me, I feel Breaker’s chuckle when his arm brushes mine. I glance over to find him watching my face. When he winks, I look away.

He spent enough time in isolation. He knows exactly what she’s feeling right now. Chaotic. Not talking to anyone, no contact with any other living creature, draws things out of the mind that should be left hidden. Funny how the mind creates chaos when nothing else is present.

It takes her a few minutes, but she finally gets the chair near the window. The chair isn’t large, but it’s solid wood. Someone of her size—she’s barely two inches taller than our Little Flower—not eating properly the last seven days means she’s weak.

Seemingly satisfied with the chair’s location, Delilah flops down and stares out the window for a few minutes, chest heaving as she catches her breath. All I want to do is to march in there and force food down her throat until she’s gained the few pounds she’s lost and that hollowed out look leaves her eyes.

After a few minutes, she stands upright and turns to face the chair.

Reaper slowly stands, resting his knuckles on the desk, eyes narrowing.

Bending over, she grips the arms and tugs. The chair leaves the ground, then drops.

“She wouldn’t,” Breaker says, awe in his tone.

Reaper reaches for his mask, fisting it, the black lines of his tattoos harsh against the white knuckled grip on his mask. Rage paints his features dark, slashing his eyes with violence.

She does it again, managing to lift the chair in the air. Then we all watch as she swings, aiming for the window.

Chapter 11

Delilah

The door bursts open,slamming into the plaster wall, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunder clap. I lose my grip on the chair and it falls with a loud crack and skids to a stop next to the window.

His massive body fills the entire doorway, nothing but a black shadow, chest heaving, like some dark, demonic creature. I stumble back, terror gripping my throat with sharp claws, raking down, cutting into my chest, stealing my breath. My back hits the heavy curtains, gaze locked on the mask with the melting face and the piercing black eyes that stare at me with murderous intent.

I was right. They are watching my every move.

And they aren’t far away.

“You’ve got my attention,” he growls. “But I think you may regret it.”

Reaper prowls forward, movements graceful, his long legs eating up the space between us. I shrink back, ill prepared forthe level of hatred rattling out of him in heavy breaths as he stalks toward me.

A tendril of fear slithers up my spine, coiling around my neck. My eyes dart to the open door, my heart beating wildly. Before he’s across the room, I leap toward the bed, using the blankets to help pull myself over it, eyes locked on the open door. When I land, my socks slip, but I grip the mattress and remain upright. Behind me, Reaper grates out a low rumbling growl, and before I can take another step, he lunges in front of me, blocking the door. My ass lands back on the mattress, dread pooling like ice in my belly.

Fuck, he’s furious.

“What was your plan, Kitten?” he snarls, inching closer as I scramble back on the bed, reaching for the fork in my sock. “Break the window andjump?”

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