Page 63 of Striker

I didn’t dwell too much on those details. I figured they have been watching us for a while, planning to take us for some time. It was the fact that they gave us things that made us comfortable that disturbed me the most.

She swipes her thumb over my cheek in a way that heats between my thighs.

“If I had to endure another card game with Viper, I was going to scream,” she says, smiling at me so brightly, I tuck my response behind my teeth and don’t tell her we never played cards. I was freezing, scared. Lonely.

Although I’m glad she wasn’t those things, I still can’t help my jealousy that they treated her so differently. I don’t understand why, but then she’s always been treated sweetly. My father dotes on her, always kissing her cheek, or petting her head like she’s a prized pet. Clyde too. He’s crazy about her.

They’ve treated me so different from her over the years, and as we got older it became clear, they expected me to be harder. Like Rune. Cora’s soft light and sweet candy. I’m supposed to be hard stone, unbreakable. Unmoveable.

I wasn’t even allowed to mourn my mother. Instead, I was drug to my feet, my hands still sticky with her blood and told to stop crying.

“Delly?”

My eyes find Cora’s.

Her brows knit. “Did Reaper take you outside? For walks?”

My stomach sinks. No. Not fucking walks. No niceness from any of them.

I wonder…

“Did Reaper….” I bite my lip. Not sure how to phrase the question.

“I’ve barely seen him,” she says, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s mostly Breaker and Viper and sometimes Striker.”

Satisfaction curls in my stomach, but then my gaze lands on the large, black jacket she was carrying, and I wonder which man gave it to her. That slick, gross feeling slips through me again, wishing they’d been nice to me too.

I don’t understand why they hate me so much. Why they’ve left me alone. Why they’re treating her so different.

“I kind of like not having to go to work.” She grins. “Or sit in another meeting.”

A chuckle slips out at her delighted smile. I smirk. “Or spend so much energy avoiding Zane.”

Her laughter loosens something in my chest. I don’t miss those things, but I do miss home.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Cora says, inching closer. Her toes hit my shin the same moment her thumb traces the cut on my lip. “Why do you think they kept us apart for so long?”

I have asked myself that same question so many times and the only answer I can come up with is, “Control.”

Her brows knit, but she nods, understanding. We were easier to control because we were separated.

“Daddy will get us. And Clyde,” I tell her, brushing a fiery ringlet from her face. A dark shadow passes over her features. “They will Cora. They’ll figure out where we are and come for us.”

She nods, but remains silent. When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with tears. “They aren’t bad, Delly.”

“Who?”

“Them.”

Them. Our captors.

“They took us, Cora. They killed Manuel,” I whisper, reaching for her hand under the sheets.

She grips mine and scoots closer. “I know they did, but I think Papa did something terrible to them.”

He took something from me.

“It’s the business, Cora,” I say. “You know Daddy and Clyde do what they have to do.”

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