Page 114 of Oathbreaker

Forrester is one of those suit types who never smiles. He literally epitomizes everything stereotypical about spy organizations. But when I mention Grim and Rage, he almost smiles. Almost.

“I need to get home,” I tell Atlas.

He grimaces. “What are you going to tell Briar?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Yeah, and it’s not going to be good enough.

Briar and Frankie are my priorities, but this is a debt of honor—it’s not optional.

Igor risked his life to get me out of Russia.

If not for him, I wouldn’t have Briar and Frankie.

One last mission, I tell myself blandly. Please forgive me, baby.

Thirty-Five

Briar

“What the fuck?” I whisper, mind spinning, stomach churning.

Terror wars with…happiness.

And more terror.

But mostly…happiness.

Such pure, unfettered happiness that I snag my phone from the counter, jabbing at the screen and hitting a number.

“Hey, what’s up?” Atlas asks.

I exhale, try to keep my tone neutral. “Can you cover the Conrad meeting this afternoon?”

A pause. “Yes. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just…need to get home so I can take care of something with Frankie.”

There’s another pause. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“I—”

“But I know that I’ll probably hear about it soon enough, so don’t bother making up another lie.” He chuckles. “Do what you need to do, Briar. I’ll take care of Conrad.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

There’s another voice in the background, and Atlas’s voice turns irritated.

“Is everything?—?”

“I’ve gotta go, Briar.”

“I—”

“Talk to you later.”

He hangs up.