Page 1 of Breaker

Chapter 1

Breaker

The day I metFallon was the day I lost my father. He walked away, leaving me in the yard, my small boots already dirty with the things I’d later do, not knowing I wouldn’t see Father again for many years.

Not until the day we buried his son.

Or what remained of him.

To this day, I’m unsure which man was real. Commander Fallon—cold, ruthless, eyes devoid of all emotion, so icy blue it’s like looking into a frozen wasteland, nothing below the surface but jagged rocks and dead things.

Myotets.Father. Mr. Byrns. The man who smiled and tucked me into bed the nights he stayed late. My father who placed puzzle pieces on the table for me to fit together, or softly corrected me as he taught me his mother’s language. He would pat my head and tell me how proud he was that I could say the words, and my chest would swell with happiness.

Foolish kid that I was. I didn’t know that behind his impeccable three-piece suits and charming smiles he was hidingthe devil himself. I didn’t know it was the devil I so desperately wanted to please. Before I knew what he was capable of. Before I knew he wore two faces.

Fallon and Father.

Although it was Father, not Fallon, who buried his son.

The day we placed Hunter into the earth, the world was painted too vividly, the sun so bright overhead it was nearly blinding. As I watched Fallon fall to his knees before Hunter’s open grave, the earth shone evergreen, the sun so warm and alive it burned my eyes. Or maybe it was the tears that refused to flow.

All that bright color felt like a betrayal to what was inside my chest. A cavern of emptiness, an inky darkness that felt like it was bleeding out of me, soaking into the soft green grass, staining it with pain.

I remember wondering as his legs gave way, if what Father felt then was remorse. I wondered too if what made him crumble was the agonizing realization that he was the reason his son was dead. The reason there were just pieces of the man we all loved in the casket.

I don’t have to wonder anymore what that type of pain feels like. I feel it right now, like a thousand tiny slivers of sharp metal shards stabbing what’s left of my heart, letting rage leak into the room around me.

Anger at myself. At All of us.

And rage feels better than guilt.

Delilah’s screams scrape through me, and I look at Reaper. He feels it too. This cleaving in half. Yet another piece, something we’ve just admitted we’ve wanted, craved, desired, needed for years, someone we’ve claimed as ours, taken from us.

Because of him.

Fallon. Father.

I’ve never hated him before. Not even as he took the belt to us, or when he shoved me in solitary. Not even the day I was named, when he told me it was okay to break things. No. I have never hated father for turning us into soldiers.

But I think I hate him now.

And this hatred is deep, boiling inside me a with red, fiery heat. Like a corrosive acid, eating away at all thoughts until it’s all just violence in my head.

“No one takes what’s ours.”My voice doesn’t sound like mine. I don’t feel like me. I feel like the man Fallon created. The soldier. The Breaker. Thesynwho destroys frail bones and soft skin in order to quench the insatiable thirst of the thing that lives inside me. The dark creature that Fallon created. The thing he fed.

Behind me, Striker kneels, watching as the past and present collide, forced to relive the day we had to leave a huge portion of ourselves behind to save another. The day we sacrificed Hunter and left him with Rune. Except we aren’t leaving. We’re sending her away, directly into his arms, knowing acutely what he’s capable of.

My fingers tighten in my gloves, curling into a fist.

“Why?” I hear myself asking.

It’s silent now. I’ve been standing so long, watching the dark night sky, so lost in thought that I didn’t hear them leave. I glance around the empty foyer, almost in shock that they’re no longer here. That they somehow got our tiny girl off the floor and took her away.

I whirl around, eyes scanning the second-floor balcony and the dimly lit hallway that leads to the dining room. My heart races as I search for her, holding on to the doorknob tightly to keep myself upright.

We did this. I can blame Fallon all I want, but we still did this.

“The code,” Fallon says, and I snap my head over to him. He’s leaned against the wood doorway leading to the library, arms crossed, smug satisfaction oozing from him.

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