Page 119 of Oathbreaker

“You don’t,” he says quietly, waiting until I meet his gaze to continue. “He didn’t rescue you in Siberia because he expected some kind of debt of honor. He rescued you because it was the right thing to do and he was in a position to do so. Maybe you’re not in that position this time.”

“I am,” I say firmly. “Because if I don’t, and he dies, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You can win your girl back if we get Igor out. You can’t replace him if we don’t.”

I nod.

“So, if you want to do that, without getting yourself killed, you need to be all in. This job can’t be done with one foot out the door. You listening to me, marine?”

It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.

“Yes, sir.” I momentarily fall back into the command structure.

But he’s reminded me that I will get myself—and the rest of the team—killed if I don’t focus.

I’m sorry, baby.

I’ll be home soon.

I promise.

“Let’s do this,” I say quietly.

Igor’s body is limp, lifeless, as we load him onto the plane a day later.

But he’s alive.

Barely.

And it’s going to take a lot of medical attention to help him but he’s alive.

Fuck.

I don’t know how anyone could take so much and still survive, but Igor’s one of the toughest men I’ve ever known. Both on and off the ice. As tough as Grim, as deadly as Rage, as sneaky and stealthy as me. He’s the whole damn package.

He mumbles groggily. It’s in Russian but I get the gist of it.

“You’re a crazy motherfucker.”

“Oh, because you were completely sane when you got me out of Siberia?”

“At least you could walk.” His voice is thready, like it’s taking a lot out of him to talk.

“Just rest, buddy. We’ll be at Ramstein in a few hours, and you’ll get help.” We’re not too far from the air base in Germany.

“There better be pretty nurses.” He says that in English and all of us chuckle.

“I’ll try to arrange that.”

One of the SEALs is a medic, so Igor has an IV of antibiotics going, while we try to get him to drink a little water. He smells vile, and I’ve never seen anyone quite so filthy, but he gets a pass. Hopefully, there will be a pretty nurse to give him a sponge bath or five. He deserves that much.

Now that it’s over, I try not to dwell on how close it was.

How they were in the process of moving him, which made it easy to free him but a lot more dangerous.

How they were somehow expecting us and if not for the skills of the SEALs this could have gone very, very wrong.

How doing the right thing was somehow tempered by the danger. By the knowledge that I have someone—multiple people—to go home to, so the risk is no longer worth the reward.