Page 53 of Oathbreaker

He mutters a string of Russian curses.

“Right?” I’m almost fluent now, which is weird but also comfortable, so I switch languages. “And she has a boyfriend.”

“Are you going to kill him?” He switches back to English.

“I don’t think so,” I admit. “He seems to adore her. Treats her well. Is very gentle with her. Exactly the kind of guy she should be with.”

There’s an extended pause before he says, “What the fuck are you talking about, Colt?”

Anger I wasn’t expecting.

“Huh?”

“What do you mean ‘the kind of guy she should be with’? You know that kind of guy she should be with? A guy like you—no, wait… exactly like you. Because it should be you!”

I laugh, even though the reality of my situation is in no way funny.

“And what if she doesn’t love me anymore?” I counter. “Or, she loves me, but isn’t in love with me, the way she was before I left?”

“That might be the case, but you can’t know that if you’ve been pussy-footing around. That’s your woman. And your kid! Are you really going to just walk away and let her ride off into the motherfucking sunset with some other guy? Seriously?”

“It’s not nearly that simple.” I tell him about last night.

“Is she hurt?” he asks automatically.

“No, not really. She might have a little bruise, but to be fair, Dash pulled back the moment he saw her move, so it wasn’t even close to the hit it would have been. And I saw it coming, so I managed to get her away before it could do any serious damage.”

More Russian muttering.

“He didn’t mean it. The punch was intended for me. She literally jumped between us. I’m going to have to have a chat with her about her need to protect me.”

He’s quiet again. “A woman who isn’t in love won’t jump into a fist fight between two men who are literally capable of killing with their bare hands.”

Fuck, but I want that to be true.

“You have to fight for your family,” he continues. “I mean, isn’t that why you left the agency? Your country spent a lot of time, money, and resources training you—and you walked away. If you aren’t going back, why aren’t you fighting for the people you left it for?”

I get up and start to pace, ignoring the tugging in my side and the stiffness in my knees.

Carrying Briar to the car the other night set back my recovery, but I wasn’t going to let anyone else put their hands on her and… it doesn’t change what’s really bothering me.

“I don’t know if my family wants me back,” I admit.

“Bullshit. People don’t get upset when they don’t care.”

“That’s what I thought about how angry Dash was to find out I was alive. The things he said about me sleeping with his sister…well, that shit cut deep. It’s a separate issue from me coming back from the dead.”

“What about the other guys?” he asks.

“From what Briar said, Banks had guessed. Frankie’s eyes—her name is Frankie, by the way, named after my dad?—”

“That’s nice,” he says softly.

“Yeah.” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Anyway, Banks had guessed because her eyes are literally just like mine. Hair color too. And he’s okay with it. Royal seemed surprised but not mad because it’s obvious Briar and I had something real back then, if not now. Atlas was furious but you know how he gets—all stoic and pensive, like he has to decide how to react.”

Igor chuckles.

Igor played with us in college, so he remembers what they’re like.