Page 107 of Oath

“Oh, trust me,” I murmured, smiling. “I know.”

“Status?” Bones asked in my ear.

“I’m in,” I murmured, following the woman deeper into the house. “Main hall. No signs of other staff yet.”

“Find out how many are in the house,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

I nodded slightly, then glanced toward the kitchen. “Did his wife make it back in town?” I asked, soft and casual, like it wasn’t the question I’d been dying to ask all night.

The woman froze. Just for a second. Her hands clutched at the end of a dish towel she’d carried with her.

“No,” she said after a beat. “Not yet. Still traveling.”

Still.

Traveling.

“Of course,” I said.

Liar.

I glanced toward the wide staircase at the end of the hall. I knew where I needed to go. I just needed her to let me.

“Is anyone else here?” I asked, just as casually. “He didn’t say if anyone else would be working.”

She shook her head. “No, no one else. Just me. The gardener came earlier this morning, but he left around a couple of hours ago. And the alarm is off—he likes it off when someone’s home.”

Perfect.

“Thanks,” I said, pausing by the stairs. “I’ll be quick. Then I’ll lock up behind me.”

“I’ll be in the laundry,” she said, with another tired smile, already turning back down the hallway. “Yell if you need anything.”

She was still choking the dish towel as she walked. Why did she have a dish towel if she was working in the laundry? Maybe folding them?

The moment her footsteps faded, I exhaled and ascended the stairs two at a time.

“House seems clear,” I said into the mic. “Only the housekeeper is here and I don’t think she’s a threat. But…”

“But?” That was AB prompting.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Just—felt weird.”

“Trust your instincts,” Voodoo said. “We’re almost there. Get into his office and lock yourself in until we’re there.”

Adrenaline spiked and a wave of hot-cold slid over me.

“I’m going.” I reached the landing, hand already brushing the small flash drive hidden in my jacket pocket.

Step two had officially begun.

The upstairs hallway was quiet—too quiet for a house this big, with this many doors. Each one loomed as I passed, closed and silent like a mouth holding secrets behind its teeth. But I didn’t hesitate. I had to check behind a couple of doors before I found the right one.

Thankfully, they were all unlocked. Once I located the office, I pushed it open gently, slipped inside, and shut it behind me. The lock was a smooth brass turn. I rotated it with a softclick, then leaned my back against the wood and finally let myself breathe.

The office was colder than the rest of the house.

The curtains were drawn against the gray of the outside, and the room’s palette was darker—navy, deep mahogany, and steel. Books lined the walls with obsessive precision. A matching set. Expensive, but barely touched. Everything in the space was curated, performative. But the real value here wouldn’t be in the display.