Page 2 of Striker

The biting chill in the air reminds me of that first day here, and maybe that’s why I’m flooded with memories. It’s also probably because we are here so he can teach us a lesson. Much like that first cold day when he left me in the empty room with nothing but a thin sweater to keep me warm.

“Your enemies will use your weakness as a weapon,” Fallon says, his voice barely audible over the roar of wind as he paces back and forth, back and forth, in front of us. “Weakness is a betrayal to your brothers. Do you understand, my sons?”

“Sir, yes sir!” we shout in unison like we are one voice. One person. One unit. That’s what he’s teaching us. To be a deadly force capable of moving as one. A collection of perfect soldiers.

“Viper!” he shouts, turning on his heel to face us. His voice doesn’t have that guttural, gravelly accent like Commander Maxim, but it’s just as deadly. His usually stoic face flashes with something we all recognize as Fallon scans the line, looking for any flaw in our formation. Father keeps it shielded, but sometimes it slips out from under the mask he wears and cruelty shows its ugly face.

His cold, steely gaze lands on Viper to my right, and my jaw tenses. I think we all stop breathing as Fallon steps forward.

We all know what’s coming. We’ve been here before.

“Step forward,soldat,” Fallon says, raising a black leather gloved hand to beckon my brother forward.

My insides twist uncomfortably, but it’s not like when we don’t get food as punishment. It’s that sensation in the pit of my stomach, a gnawing that reminds me of fear.

But I can’t let the fear touch me. Fallon will try to beat it from me again if I so much as flinch. Not wanting to rile him, I push all my emotions down. Down further until I feel nothing but the coldness inside and out. Coldness like in that room, but I know now I can handle it.

I’m going to be a soldier.

Another gust whips across the rooftop, slashing us to the bone. My fingers ache from the cold, frozen in my leather gloves. I want to unclench my fists and stretch my fingers, but Commander Maxim will disapprove if I make the slightest movement.

Gritting my teeth, I keep my hands fisted at my sides, my arms rigid both from the freezing winter wind and from standing in formation for so long as I watch Viper step forward. His black boots scrape over the concrete, but then he stills, straightening his spine, keeping his chin level and eyes straight ahead, focusing on the open stretch of barren landscape around the school. Just as we’ve been taught. He’s a goodsoldat.

To my left, Breaker shifts. My instincts scream to tell him to stop moving. If Fallon sees any hint of unease, it won’t just be Viper up on the platform, it will be all of us taking turns.

Though we probably deserve it.

“Viper,” Fallon says, stepping up close to the broad chested boy I’ve called my brother for the last nine years. Fallon’s at least a head taller than my brother, but nowhere near as large. At sixteen, only two years older than me, Viper is bulky. Built like a tank, Fallon often says, as a good soldier should be. “Remind your brothers what makes a good soldier.”

“Loyalty,” Viper barks out. “Courage. Duty. Honor. Discipline. Respect.”

Fallon steps back, clasping his hands behind his back as his icy eyes move over Viper. My stomach does that gross flip thing again. “And tell me, mysyn, is there honor in theft?”

Viper squares his shoulders against a blast of cold air. “Sir, no sir!”

“Is here honor in telling lies?”

“Sir, no sir!”

“Tell me, Viper.” Fallon’s stony gaze hones in on Viper’s face. “Are these considered weaknesses?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Those clear eyes land on me, making my gut twist, but he continues to speak to Viper. “As a soldier, we must protect our brothers at all costs, correct?”

It’s barely noticeable, and I hope I’m the only one to hear it when Viper stutters, “S-Sir, yes, sir.”

His pale eyes keep me pinned in place, memories of another day on this rooftop making my heart pick up pace as he says, “We do not say or do anything that may threaten our brothers, correct?”

Viper gives the correct response, keeping his chin high, but we all see the tension in the set of his jaw.

Breaking me free of his penetrating gaze, Fallon takes a large step back and Commander Maxim steps forward, an evil smirk shining on his pale, wide face. The sunlight catches on the smooth white scar that runs from his forehead, under the eyepatch and travels down his cheek to his chin. He told us once that a giant crocodile tried to cut off the left side of his face, but he gutted him before he could. The way his remaining right eye gleams darkly as he motions to the platform behind him reminds me he’s vicious enough to take down a crocodile.

There’s only a slight hesitation as Viper steps forward. My stomach cramps, the bread I shoved down last night threatening to come up. Viper steps up on the platform, turning to faceCommander, his back to the thick wooden pole at the center of the raised concrete circle.

“Remove your clothes,” Fallon commands.

A ripple of unease moves through our line. It’s deep winter and bitter cold with the wind ripping across the top of the school. He’ll fucking freeze to death up here, so exposed.

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