Page 17 of Breaker

Like soap and citrus and untamed male.

The bed’s unmade and a black plastic laundry hamper sits at the end of the bed, black pants and shirts spilling onto the floor. Like he was rummaging through it, or tossed the clothes in its direction, not caring if they made it into the basket.

On the dresser sits a stack of books. I run my thumb along the spines of each one, reading the titles, surprised and somehow not when I see they are all Tolkien novels.

With a hint of a smile, because of course, Viper would be a fantasy nerd, I ease the top drawer open. Nothing but boxers and socks. My brows raise when I open the second drawer.

Rope, silk fabric like the black material he used to cover my eyes that night in the dining room, several handcuffs, and an array of things I don’t even know how to identify, littler the drawer. I pick up a bottle of clear liquid and read the label, smirking when I see it’s lube.

Other than his naughty second drawer, the dresser holds nothing but clothes and his masks. I check the large armoire and gasp when I find a massive array of knives lining the interior instead of clothes. On the door, I spot a small one, similar to the one he gave me, and snag it, shoving it in my boot, not at all feeling guilty for stealing.

Or snooping.

Viper’s room has revealed more about him than the others and fits with what I’ve learned of him over the last few weeks.

There is only one room left. My eyes move back to the first door.

Heart pounding, I bolt back and stop in front of it, already pulling my newfound knife from my boot and jamming it between the latch and frame. It takes some wiggling, but it finally pops and the door swings open. Holding my breath, I wait. When Reaper doesn’t materialize to reprimand me for breaking into his room, I run forward, going first for the dresser.

I pause, breath seizing in my lungs when I see what’s in the top drawer.

Handfuls of small wooden figures lay scattered in the drawer, sliding around as I pull it open fully. I reach in, picking up a small bear. It’s not as crudely made as the one I found in Striker’s room, but it’s not as well-crafted as the next one I pick up. It’s another bear, but this one has fur and eyes carved into the soft brown wood.

I set it down gently, staring at the carving, seeing the years of progress the carver made, each little figurine slightly better than the next. In the back, I spot one of two wolves, the carving rough and half completed. Like the person never finished it.

Or never got the chance.

Hemade them.

Their brother.

Slowly, I slide the drawer shut, feeling like I’m invading something far more personal than all the items in Viper’s room. Like I never should have seen these.

My heart sinks, thinking of a man like Viper, or Breaker. Maybe he was like Striker, or Reaper, sitting somewhere carving these little figurines.

It puts a human to the information they gave me.

It wasn’t just a nameless person my father killed. He was their brother. Someone they loved. Someone who carved little animals and gave them as gifts, a show of his love and affection. Possibly even a lover.

My heart pangs and I step back, suddenly not caring about the keys. Suddenly not caring about the why or how. Not caring if they manipulated me, or who was at fault for Cora being sent away.

I just want her safe.

Safe from Rune. Away from the man who killed the person who carved animals from blocks of wood and gave it to his brothers.

I need to get her.

I open the next drawer and search, finding Reaper’s clothes and socks neatly organized. A few belts coiled up tightly. Irritated, I shut the last drawer and head for the little table holding the lamp next to his bed.

I stop for a minute, looking down at the white bedding, the crisp sheets and try to picture him sleeping here. I can’t. It’s hard to picture him as anything but a massive, looming form. But that doesn’t seem to fit him well anymore after who he was with us just two nights ago.

Passionate. Tender with Cora. With me.

As I slide the drawer open, I hear the clanging of metal before I spot the keys. I grip them, shoving them down into the pocket of my sweater.

“Found what you were looking for?”

I scream, my hand flying to my mouth as I spin.

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