Page 2 of Breaker

Bastard.

“Fuck the code,” I snarl, turning to face him fully. I wonder how long he’s been standing there, observing like he always does. Scheming. Planning. Taking in our every move like a chess player and storing it away for later use.

Instead of learning from his mistakes, he’s grown colder.

If that is even possible.

Fallon is icy meanness, and he uses everything he sees as a weapon. It doesn’t matter who you are. Family or foe, he manipulates those around him to get what he wants. We defied him and instead of supporting us, battling this fucking deal Rune made with Zane, he’s spitefully taking her away to punish us.

Fallon quirks a brow, adjusting his suit. Always in control. Always so self-righteous.

I hate the thought he saw Striker so dismantled. Delilah so heartbroken. Reaper feeling so fucking guilty. I don’t care if Father sees me weak. He’s seen me strong and seen me cry. He’s seen me terrified and changed my sheets when I wet the bed as a small boy. But I hate that he’s seen my brothers so devastated. He doesn’t deserve to see their softer sides, not when he’s never given them any of his.

“We must abide by it,” Fallon says, head tilting slightly to the side, like he’s gauging my reactions. Out of all of us, I’m the only one he can read like a book.

“You’ve never given a damn about anycode.“ I don’t know when I moved forward, or how my fingers curled into the lapel of Father’s jacket so tight my gloves creak, but I know when Fallon’s perfect dark gray brow quirks upward, my heart beatslike a thundering drum, and my stomach somersaults, churning with that old slick sensation.

Fear.

I drop my hand and step back.

His features contort in a way I’ve never seen before. Something similar to disgust. “You fucked her.” It’s not a question.

My gaze falls to the floor, heart skipping. Whenever Father curses, he somehow makes the word sound even more crass.

Fucked.

Like what we shared was crude. Immoral. Something dirty and not…

“When I said do with as you please, that’s not what I meant.” The sound he makes in his throat makes my gaze dart to his. Something flares behind his eyes, turning his features hard. Accusatory. “I taught my son better than to force himself on a woman.”

“She was willing,” I growl. Father doesn’t know what I discovered in his office that day we broke in looking for the red file. What Viper and Striker and I found in those files he kept on all of us. That my mother was raped and gave birth to me when she was only fifteen years old, and that I was born from hatred and put in this world only thanks to her.

“Was she, son? You were holding her against her will. Did you once stop to think she spread her legs for you in fear, so you’d not hurt her?” A slick, cruel smile pulls up the corner of his mouth, and the urge to punch him makes my hand jerk. “Consent is crucial, but so is the reason for giving it.”

A laugh erupts out of me, shocking us both with its anger. “What the fuck do you care about consent? Isn’t that what you ordered us to do? Take away choices? Turn Delilah against her father, byanymeans?”

“Even I have limits,” Father says, stepping toward me. Age has taken none of his height or lessened the intimidating glare we’re all so used to seeing. It’s only added to his stern, militant stature. The silver hair, no longer deep black, only heightens his features, making him look dignified and even more handsome.

“Do you?” I snap. “Because I have yet to see them.”

How dare he talk about consent? None of us could give consent to be taken to the school. Even I was too young to understand before I was sent there. We all were. I’ve always, always been careful when I touch someone. The fact he’s implying that I forced Cora makes my stomach knot grossly.

I rip my gloves off, tossing them toward the bottom of the stairs, worry, fear, fuckinghatredfor myself and Father, eating at my gut, then pull my mask off, tucking it in my back pocket. A dull pain throbs in my head. I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension building inside, and glance upwards to the second-floor landing.

I need to find Striker. He must be devastated to relive that day with our sweet Little Red.

Fallon stops a foot in front of me, looking me directly in the eye. Ice blue on ice blue. “I taught mysynsthat—“

“Yoursyns,“ I hiss the word out, lacing it with venom. I continue, anger making me lose all reason, not caring about the consequences of talking back to the man who’s controlled my entire life, “Because that’s what we are, aren’t we? Your sins. Your dark, dirty secret. We’re your greed and hunger for power, for fucking wealth, in human form.”

Father’s jaw tics, eyes narrowing slightly at my outburst. I’m surprised that he clamps his mouth shut instead of barking out an order for me to remain silent. It’s not that I don’t fear him, he scares the shit out of me, but I’m no longer that boy in the school. I may still be his soldier, but I’m stillme.The same boy who rebelled against orders and only followed them out offear for my brother’s safety, not just my own. But I grew into a man who talks back and speaks my mind.

Who breaks rules and codes. Who Father says is just like him.

His favoritesyn.

“Or do you not like that I gained their trust and respect without invoking fear?” I step closer, feeling my mouth twist into a vicious grin, mirroring his own. “Because that’s the only way you could ever gain ours.”

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