Page 27 of Oathbreaker

He jerks when I stop at the side of his chair, and when I sit on the arm like Royal did with me on the couch, his shoulders relax incrementally.

Going on instinct, I take his hand.

And he relaxes further, the words coming more freely.

“It was bad—sleep deprivation and beatings. They knew I had information, and they did their best to extract it. I held out as long as I could, and then I gave small shit I knew wouldn’t hurt anyone, knew would buy me time. But I was running out of it, knew that if I didn’t get out and do it soon, I was going to die there.”

Royal curses.

Banks starts pacing again.

I just hold Colt’s hand more tightly.

“Finally, a month ago, I caught a lucky break,” he says quietly. “You remember Igor?”

Banks turns toward us. “The kid we played with in college?”

Colt nods. “Yeah. Turns out he’s more than just a hockey player—back then and now.”

Royal’s brows fly up in surprise.

West is harder to read—his expression blank as he takes it all in.

“FSB,” Colt tells us.

“I thought he was playing in the KHL?” Banks asks.

“Cover.” A shrug. “Lucky for me because he heard about me, and he put his ass on the line to get me out. It was dicey. I thought it was the end for both of us more than once.”

My fingers convulse around his, thinking how close we were to truly losing him.

His gaze comes to mine.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs and for a moment, I have the old Colt. The one I fell in love with. The one who I could talk with until all hours of the night, discussing our dreams and ambitions, sorting our plans for the future, sharing everything.

Then he looks away, and the moment is broken.

“I was in bad shape when I got home?—”

“No offense,” Royal mutters, “but you look to be in pretty bad shape now.”

Colt scowls. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Royal says dryly.

“You got home,” Banks prompts.

A nod from Colt, though his scowl remains in place. “I got home, spent some time in the hospital, debriefed, and then searched you guys up.”

“Nashville,” I say softly.

Bright blue eyes come to mine. “Nashville,” he says.

“But you didn’t talk to Atlas.”

“I didn’t want to intrude. Atlas needed to focus on his woman, especially with all the press attention. I was going to follow you guys back here, but I had a setback and ended up in the hospital again.”

Plain words.