Page 40 of Breaker

“Why?” I ask, Reaper. “Zane is a drunken sleaze.”

“You know why,” Reaper says. “Everything would have been ruined.”

“Oh, yes. Your plan,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You sent her back so not to foil your precious plans.”

“Should we let Rune continue?” Reaper asks, stepping closer like he does when I’ve pissed him off. Like his proximity will intimidate me. Stupid man. He should have learned by now. I know he won’t hurt me.

I take a step forward too. “You made her a promise.”

“We will,” they both say at once, like they are one voice.

“And we promised you,” Striker adds.

I don’t give a fuck about the promises they made me. But I do care about what Cora is feeling right now. Alone. Rejected. Terrified of Rune hurting her again. And she doesn’t even know the worst part yet. She may know surface level what Rune is capable of, but she never saw the pictures in those files.

“But it will take time,” Striker says.

My finger’s curl into a fist in my pocket. “She doesn’t have time,” I hiss, pinning my glare on Reaper. “We need to act now.”

“Whenwe take Cora back, we’ll start a war,“ Reaper says. “These deals are unbreakable unless they’re replaced with something better.”

Anger heats my face, frustration churning my stomach because he’s right, and I know it. We can’t just storm Rune’s house and snatch her up. Zane will get involved along with hisalliances. We have to find a way to break this deal and settle things peacefully so the men can still complete their mission.

“And since Rune will never let Zane get his hands on you—“ Reaper steps even closer— “Since I will never let anyone else get their hands on you, we better be prepared to spill blood. And lots of it if things go south. But first I need you trained.”

And we better be prepared to win,Runes’ words fill my head. He sounds so much like my father right now that maybe I would be smart to be a bit more scared of him. Terrified even.

I glance at Striker, and his handsome face is so hard, that I know they mean it. They’ll get her. They promised us both and they are prepared to kill to do it.

Remember we killed to make you ours.My heart flips, remembering Reaper’s words.

Yet. I can’t go back yet. And I need to be prepared for my role in this war, whatever that is. Apparently that includes learning to fire a weapon.

I take a breath. “What do I have to do?”

Reaper relaxes, the churning in his eyes calming.

“Follow us,” Striker says adjusting his duffle on his shoulder and walking away. Reaper follows and I don’t have much choice but to do the same.

We walk along the long dirt road, past the carriage house, and weave around to the south end of the property where the forest turns slightly swampy, giving way to the marsh. I watch as the two men remove a long, thin rifle from one of the bags then unfold a target. Striker walks toward the tree line and attaches the large target to a thick trunk, then returns a moment later, taking the rifle from Reaper and motioning me forward.

“We’ll start you off with a .22 long rifle,” he says. “It has less kick.”

My heart lurches into my throat. “I’ve never held a gun before, much less one that big.”

“Sure, you have,” Striker says, that playful grin returning. “I’ve seen you handle Breaker just fine.”

My face heats, and I avoid eye contact as Striker walks toward me, rifle outstretched.

“Is it loaded?” I ask when he’s right in front of me.

Reaper chuckles as Striker says, “You think we’re going to hand a loaded gun to an accountant before we show her how to use it?”

I shake my head, feeling out of my element, both with the idea of holding a weapon and with this new dynamic we’ve established. Push, pull. Flirty, serious. Sexy, dangerous.

Before he lets me hold the rifle, Striker tells me about each part, then demonstrates the proper way of holding it, how to place my finger next to the trigger instead of on it.

“Here,” he says. “You try.”

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