Page 4 of Oathbreaker

“But—”

“I’m not ready for this tonight.” I turn to him, eyes burning into his. “So, for me?” I whisper, watching his face change, his expression soften. “Please, just not now.”

His chest lifts and falls on a breath that has him wincing.

Then he tables the pain.

And nods.

Relief slides through me—Frankie and West and the past and the present and him being here now…

Not tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll brace.

Tomorrow, I’ll be ready.

Tomorrow, I’ll face this.

But tonight?—

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Anything for you, baby.”

More guilt, more confusion, more anger…but I shove that all down too.

Because…not tonight.

I open the door of my car, help him into the passenger’s seat, and buckle him in before rounding the hood and doing the same with myself in the driver’s seat.

It’s only when I’m driving out of the cemetery that I ask,

“Where’s home for you?”

Two

Colt

Pain.

It’s all I’ve known for four long years and today is no different.

Maybe a little different.

Instead of pain drowned out by fear, today it’s just… an ache. Discomfort. A soreness that transcends everyday life. But the bed I’m in is soft and the blanket covering me is warm, which is a step in the right direction. Not like the last four years.

The cold was numbing.

The growls of hunger from my stomach were sometimes louder than my screams during the beatings. Somehow, the pain was always overshadowed by fear. Not of what else they were going to do to me—my training prepared me for that—but of what I was going to miss.

Fear that I wouldn’t live to fight another day.

Fear that I’d never see my brothers again.

Fear that my sacrifice would be for naught.

Fear that I’d never get a chance to tell the woman I loved how I felt about her.