I’m about to suffer the consequences, except this lesson isn’t for me.
“Father please!” Striker’s scream is cut off by the sharp sound of leather hitting bare flesh. The sound registers before the pain, but when it does it slices through me so cruelly, my knees give.
A breath sucks in, back bowing.
The soldiers stretch my arms out, pulling them taunt keeping me upright.
I hear my name, but then the belt lands again across my back and I hear, feel, exist in nothing but an agonizing burn. Then there’s another, then another.
My eyes drag to Reaper. His own close but then they open, fixing on mine.
The next hit lands so harshly I bite my lip to stop the scream from ripping free, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making a sound. Coopery warmth hits my tongue.
“You’re not counting,” Fallon yells.
No, no, no.This is not their fault. They aren’t monsters like him. Striker is my soft and strong safe place. His affection is blazing heat and heart and scary precision. Reaper is my cold, but passionate shadow. My violence and revenge.
He will not make them a part of this.
“Six,” I hiss, and I swear if it weren’t for the soldiers holding Reaper up, he’d crumble. “Seven,” I scream as another lands. My gaze flickers to Striker. His shoulders slump and he drops, leaning back on his heels. The gold of his eyes are molten with rage. Highlighted with pain. “Eight.” My knees give.
The belt drops to the floor with a loudthudand my head is jerked back. Fallon’s hot breath hits my face, looming over me like a vile monster. The soldiers release me, and he shoves me to my knees. I fall forward, agony tugging the skin on my back.
The shiny tip of his shoe hits my ribs. Pain explodes in my bones, my marrow, stealing my breath. I cry out but it’s caught on that pain lacing around my ribs and I curl into a ball.
“She better be worth it,” he says.
The rhythmic thud of boots hitting wood in perfect unison as the soldiers file out are the last thing I hear before the searing pain and mind numbing fear take over and I burst into tears.