Page 4 of Breaker

Guilt settles in my gut, making my limbs feel heavy. I shake my head.

He emits another sound, less like laughter and more like disbelief. More like disappointment, and his next words hurt far worse than if he had taken his belt to my bare skin. “She’s going to hate you when she finds out.”

I shake my head again, as if doing so will keep his words from settling. But it’s true. I think we know it. Reaper certainly does. I think that’s part of why he’s been so fucking tortured. Weall see how he is with her. Touching her. Like he has zero control of himself when she’s near.

But it’s true. When Delilah finds out, she’s going to hate him.

All of us.

Fallon’s jaw pops as he eyes me. “Did youallenjoy her company in this way?”

I grind my teeth, looking him square in the eye.

“Reaper?”

My silence is answer enough.

Fallon lets out a humorless laugh. “I expect this type of behavior from the Julian girl. She’s a whore like her mother, but—“

I bolt forward, gripping his jacket and pulling him up to his toes. “You do not call her a single foul word, do you hear me?”

That brow raises again, but he grips by hand in warning. I let him go and step back.

Fallon adjusts his suit, then props his hands on his hips, looking down at his feet, chest deflating on a sigh. I feel like a boy all over again. Fucking things up and waiting for his lecture and the following lashes from his belt.

Instead, he shakes his head and says, “It’s my fault. I should have known better than to send four young men to watch them. Of course, you’d get attached. This was bound to happen.”

He’s right. You can’t send four men to stalk two women for so long and not expect them to catch those fucking feelings he tried to remove from us. Yet we did. As much as none of us wanted this, and as much as it makes us vulnerable, we made them a promise. We made themours. Now one of them was ripped from our grasp.

“Breaker.” Fallon’s soft tone makes my focus snap back to him. He cups my jaw and my heart hammers. Growing up, Inever knew if I was getting Father or Fallon when he touched me, but when he smiles, my shoulders relax. “My son. You’ve always been too sensitive and that it my fault. But the Julian girl—“

“Cora,” I tell him. “Her name is Cora.”

His features harden as his hand drops. “She isn’t up for grabs.” Fallon takes a step back. He lifts his chin toward the staircase. “Take care of this mess you’ve made and make sure Rune’s daughter is still willing to cooperate. I don’t want this mission compromised because none of you can keep your dicks in your pants.”

I take in a lungful, watching his back as he stalks to the door.

Right as he steps through, he turns to face me. “Tell Reaper his obsession is going to cost him one day, and I won’t be around to clean it up next time.”

Chapter 2

Breaker

23 Years Ago, May, Age 5

Today I learn howto be a soldier. Myotetssaid that when I turned five, I was going to leave the little house I live in with Nanny in the village and go to school with my brothers. And today I turn five.

I don’t get a gift, not like the other kids in the village, but Nanny made me pancakes and stuffed red, hard candies in my pockets when she sang me happy birthday as she combed out my hair.

“He just pulled up,gentil garcon,“ Nanny says, rushing toward me to make sure my uniform is tidy. She already pressed my gray pants and shirt and made sure my black boots shine.

“I’m ready enough,” I tell her, pushing her hands away.

She swats my bottom, and I laugh. I love Nanny. She’s not my mom, so Father told me I’m allowed to think she’s pretty when I asked. Nanny’s pretty because she’s not like the other women in the village. She talks sweetly and has clean hands and pretty dresses. Myotetsalways smiles at her, so that must mean she’s good. I know she is.

She’s been my Nanny my whole life. I love her, even though sometimes she’s cross with me when I make a mess or don’t do my chores. Or if I get stains on my church clothes, or that one time, I cried so hard I threw up on her favorite dress. But I only did because I was scared when I got stuck in the confessional booth when the door wouldn’t open.

Not like Father. He gets cross, but it’s only ever about big stuff. Like if I don’t say words the right way, or if I don’t listen, or don’t finish my dinner. There was that one time last month I broke the vase in his big library when he took me to the school for what he said was a tour. He whipped my bottom then, but I know I deserved that lesson.

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