Page 16 of Oathbreaker

He blinks, glances at Jade, whose eyes have gone wide with concern.

“Both of you,” I say, knowing that my voice and manner aren’t anywhere near the calm I affected for my daughter.

And knowing that if anyone has any chance of making it so that Royal won’t lose his mind and beat up an already injured Colt, it’s Jade.

Royal glances back at me. “Okay.”

I nod, heart pounding even more intensely.

God, I was supposed to have time to plan, supposed to have time to know the right words to say to explain, supposed to?—

I hear a thud from upstairs and know I’m out of time.

I need to explain, and I need to do it quickly.

“Kitchen,” I say. “Now.”

Six

Colt

After four years in a Russian prison camp, I learned to sleep lightly and assess my surroundings before opening my eyes. Always. And based on the uneven breathing I hear, someone is hovering over the bed. Since I’m no longer in that prison camp, I’m not particularly worried, so I slowly pry my lids open.

There’s a pair of cobalt blue eyes just inches from my face, staring at me intently.

The eyes belong to a little girl with wavy dark hair, and she doesn’t seem to be at all uncomfortable watching a stranger sleep.

She’s beautiful, no more than three or four years old, but I’m not sure what she’s doing here at Briar’s?—

Briar’s words from the other night suddenly come rushing back.

There have been a lot of changes since you’ve been gone… things you don’t know.

Is this little girl one of those changes? One of the things I don’t know?

Did one of the boys have a kid? I know Banks recently had a baby–it was all over the sports pages I scoured–but this kid is too old for that. I can’t picture Atlas or Dash having a kid, but Royal would… maybe. I probably shouldn’t assume anything since I’ve been gone a long time.

Maybe this girl is–

“Are you my dad?” she asks, interrupting my rambling and probably incoherent thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard.

“I…don’t think so.” I clear my throat, frowning. Taking in the shape of her face. Her eyes. Even her hair color…

It’s not possible.

Is it?

“Then why is your picture in my room?” She puts a fist on her hip, narrows her eyes, and gives me a piercing look that’s going to send little boys scrambling in the near future. “And why does Mommy cry when she sees it sometimes? And how come?—”

“Okay, give me a second, kiddo. I just woke up.” I rub my eyes and slowly try to stretch, see what hurts the most, and try not to aggravate it.

Mostly, I’m trying to buy myself some time to wrap my head around this little girl who has eyes… Just. Like. Mine. Cobalt blue with thick, dark lashes. In college, my teammates used to tease me about my lashes, asking what kind of mascara I use. It was funny then. Not so much now.

Looking at this kid is like staring into a mirror.

I think there’s a picture somewhere of me at a similar age—in my storage unit maybe?—where we might be twins.