Page 50 of Breaker

Viper’s disappeared. I haven’tseen him for three days. At all. When he realized that Breaker left, left him behind, he walked away without a word, and we let him.

What was I supposed to say?

Nothing.

The three of us made a promise to each other while trying to survive in the midst of hell that we’d never be apart. We’d always protect one another. And for the last fifteen years, we have. Only ever separating for a few days at a time.

As difficult as it’s been, I’ve let him be, Reaper too. But this morning, Reaper flat-out ordered me to find him saying I’ll be the only one who could coax him out of this dark episode. When I finally find him, Viper is in his room sitting on the edge of his bed facing the windows.

The sunlight slants across the dimly lit room through the open curtains, cutting long lines of bright white over his black shirt. His back is to me, but I can picture his frown from his posture. His shoulders slump, hands in his lap holdingsomething I can’t see. He hears me close the door, and turns his head, leaving his face in profile. My heart skips, seeing his full lips and the misery painting his features dark.

I hate it when he is upset. He either becomes quiet or grows angry. And from the fact we’ve not seen him, means he’s retreated into himself.

When I come to a stop next to him, Viper holds up his phone. “You know we’ve never been apart more than three days since he stepped foot into the school and we’re already on day three?”

I take the phone, unlocking it with my thumbprint. My heart aches as I read the message that came through the day he left in the encrypted messaging app Breaker created.

B: I’m sorry. She needs us.

“I know,” I say. None of us have. With the exception of Reaper leaving for the wilderness, the four of us never been apart for more than a few days at a time and even that’s been few and far between the last few years. Most missions we do together, or two of us leave for a day or two and return once the job is done.

His heavy sigh as I set the phone down and sit next to him, makes me want to wrap an arm over his shoulder, but I keep my arms crossed, looking out at the window at the line of trees, wondering if we’re ever going to be whole again.

Not that we ever were. Fallon took us, broke us, and then pieced us back together with cruelty, doling out handfuls of affection when we least expected it. And even though we all know it’s toxic, the love he gave us was all we’d ever felt outside of the bonds we formed with each other.

But that last night with them, I felt the hope. I felt the possibility. The sweet sensation of what if, what if…

“What are we supposed to do?” he asks. I glance at him and catch his furrowed brows and haunted expression. I know he means Cora.

“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him, guilt eating at my gut. I should have warned him Breaker was leaving, but I knew he’d try to stop him or try to go with him. Breaker defying Fallon is enough. God knows what he’ll do if the rest of us tried yet again to go against him. “Besides, he’s there, so we know he’ll literally kill anyone who tries to hurt her.”

Viper nods. “That’s what I’m worried about. He’s so reckless sometimes.”

My laugh makes him frown. “You’re reckless, Viper. Breaker is impulsive.”

“How does he plan on keeping someone from touching her?” Viper asks. “He didn’t think this through.”

I quirk a brow. “This coming from a man who thinks nothing through?”

He scoffs but grins when I nudge his shoulder with mine.

“He’ll figure something out. And in the meantime, we get Delilah prepared.” When he doesn’t answer I say, “She’s absolute shit with a gun.”

“According to you, everyone is a shit shot.” Viper smirks, leaning back on his palms, gaze dropping to where our thighs press together. I’m not sure which one of us shifted. Probably him. He’s always been handsy and a little greedy for touch. He glances at me. “Our girl isn’t made to fire a gun. She’s made to slice throats.”

I picture her with the various guns I’ve had her try in the last two days and I think he may be right. She’s not terrible, and she is improving already, but everything about Delilah with a gun looks and feels unnatural. There’s something slightly feline in her movements, with her entire demeanor. She’s smoothedged and a little feral. All the guns I’ve placed in her hands didn’t fit her.

“She has potential with the knife,”Viper says, sitting upright. “Delilah is drawn to them. I think she likes the subtle violence, and the sharp edge.” He glances my way, and I see the gleam in his eyes has returned. “I’ll train her.”

My grin feels lopsided, and I tuck my chin to hide it. I fucking hate it when Reaper is right. “Good. Don’t go easy on her,” I say, even though I know he won’t.

He’s absolutely brutal when he’s training. I would know. Viper insisted on training me after we returned to the school.

He smirks, leaning back on his hands again, features softening, and I’m glad that sad look is gone. I hate seeing him low. When he gets like that, it’s hard to lift him back up. Breaker seems to be the only one to break his dark moods, so I’m glad I was able to.

Viper needs this. Princess needs to train with something she can excel at not just to boost her confidence, but her determination. Viper will be perfect for both.

“Has he told her yet?” he asks, eyes dropping to my lips, and I realize I’m still grinning, picturing Delilah with a knife, trying to slash Viper’s throat. I’m going to have to sit in on those lessons. I think he’s right. Our Princess is absolutely made for this.

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