Page 24 of Breaker

Especially right now.

“Focus, Break,” Viper says, gripping my arm to face him. “You’re getting all in your head.”

I blow out a breath, my cheeks puffing out as I blink to center my brain and focus on his blue eyes. “Maxim said something like, ‘Always the favorite. I can’t wait to see his face when he finds you.’”

“Who?” Viper snaps, gripping my arm tighter, the same moment Striker says, “Fuck.”

They exchange a look and bile burns my throat.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” I whisper, shrugging off Viper’s grip and turning in slow circles to look around. It’s just like Hunter said. Slightly dank. Thin trees and thick woods. Clearings that pop up out of nowhere. The craggy looking rocks.

The rocks should have told me right away.

That’s where Hunter told us they slept for a week. Until it was decided.

Seeker made the choice, he said. And Reaper refused to leave him behind, tying downed limbs with their laces to make a sled so they could drag his body back with them, risking bears and wild cats, after Hunter slit our brother’s throat.

Because that’s the only way to survive the wilderness.

Loyalty. Courage. Duty. Discipline. Honor. Respect.

That’s what we were taught and at the end of our training, we must prove we’re ready to be his soldiers with the ultimate sacrifice. Prove to our Father we are worthy.

Our father who’s tortured us, and killed us off, one by one.

“This is not fucking happening,” Viper says, but I barely hear him.

My limbs grow heavy, my shoulders drooping from the weight of the realization. The words Hunter whispered to me that night Reaper and him returned, come back, making my stomach churn.

My eyes dart to Viper. Pain stabs into my chest.

Our father sent us out here, to the wilderness, untrained, unprepared, and too young, forcing us to make a choice.

Three go in but only two come out.

We’re here for our final test.

We must make a choice.

We are either killers or the one who is killed.

Chapter 8

Breaker

It rained late lastnight, leaving the world a dull gray. Instead of washing away the ugliness of last night and cleansing the earth, the ground is muddy, saturated with swirling black water, splashes of dark mud marring the white marble chips in the garden beyond the drive. Wet leaves float in the dark puddles in the stretch of lawn toward the cliffs overlooking the sea. Bitter winds blew in overnight, churning the ocean, waves spraying over the cliffs.

Outside the library window matches how I feel. Gray. Angry. Like the sun set yesterday and won’t ever shine brightly again and the waves will always beat against the jagged rocks like angry fits, in a rage now that she’s gone.

Not like we deserve anything brilliant and happy. Delilah does though. Cora certainly.

Just not us.

“She tried to run.”

I don’t bother turning from the window as Viper walks in. My muscles ache with fatigue. my head hurts, and I’m so swallowed up with guilt, I can’t bare to see any of his.

Father left last night, but sleep was impossible. I don’t think any of us did. He left after he had come into our house, drug our fucking hearts through the mud, then told us to clean ourselves up, and keeping moving. Because he knew, he knows, we will. We’ll do everything he asks, like we always do.

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