Obsession (Steel Brothers Saga 2)

Once more I struggled free, my strength unimaginable. But then—

Thud!

Forrester punched me in the nose, and Cline—yes, Cline, her forehead spewing blood—popped me upside the head. I didn’t feel any pain. Too much adrenaline still coursed through my veins. But I went down. I fucking went down. When my head hit the ground, things went black.

Other than a minor concussion, I got out of it unscathed. I was taken to our military base for patching up.

There I sat, healthy as a horse, still fucking alive.

I had done my best to get my ass blown to bits, and it hadn’t worked.

As I lay in bed, still petting Roger, my body went cold. I was truly no hero. I hadn’t risked my life for my men. I’d gone in seeking my own demise.

My eyes shot open.

I was glad I wasn’t dead. Fucking glad.

Jade had done that for me, and I needed to do something for her. I needed to work through this chaos that was my life so I could be worthy of her.

I scoffed. I would never be worthy of her, of her love. I did love her, but did she really love me? Jade wasn’t the type to lie. She truly thought she loved me. But the fact of the matter was, she didn’t know me. She didn’t know the real Talon Steel. She didn’t know the man who had killed overseas…and who still dreamed of killing three men from his past.

No, she didn’t love that Talon Steel.

That Talon Steel was unlovable.

The boy sat on his ragged blanket, shivering. They hadn’t come in over a day, and he had long since finished the meager meal and small glass of water they had left him.

The bucket was full of his waste, and the rancid stench made his eyes water. He should’ve been used to it by now, but he wasn’t. Wasting away in the midst of his own filth… He truly was nothing.

But he dreamed sometimes, when he was able to sleep. He dreamed of escaping and growing into a big strong man…and hunting those masked demons…plunging knives into their hearts… and laughing into their blurred faces as they drew their last breath.

But the walls… In the walls, the face of the phoenix emerged.

“That will never happen, you piece of filth,” the bird chided, laughing. “You are worth nothing. Nothing more than that little gray blanket they’ve given you. You will die here, and they will never pay for what they’ve done to you. You deserve every bit of it.”

And then, even though the boy would close his eyes and cry on the inside, tears would not emerge.

He was too dehydrated to make tears.

He unclasped his hands around his knees and lay down, shivering. As the walls came ever closer…closer…closer.

Until the walls swung back to their normal positions when the door at the top of the stairs opened. The boy squinted at the sliver of light. Footsteps echoed, and one of the three descended, wearing only shorts and a T-shirt…and the black ski mask, of course.

The boy huddled in the corner. Please, please not again. Normally they all came together when they decided to abuse him. But the boy was never sure what would happen when one of them came alone. The demon didn’t wear shoes. Normally they did. When the lone beast turned toward the boy, he carried food. The boy had stopped getting hungry a while ago, but still he knew he needed to eat. His stomach was raw and empty.

He needed to eat to survive. Always to survive.

“Here you go, bitch.”

The one who brought the food. Not Tattoo or Low Voice. This one was almost invisible most of the time, rarely talked, but he took his turns like the others. He set the tray down.

The boy looked up. The man’s eyes glared, but the boy couldn’t tell the color in the darkness. He looked down the devil’s body, all the way to his ugly bare feet. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…

Nine toes. No pinky toe on his left foot.

No pinky toe…

I shot upright.