Page 99 of Oathbreaker

“It’s good to be back,” I gasp, trying to breathe through the pain of my sore ribs.

“Sniff, sniff, you two are so sweet I’m getting a cavity.” Atlas is standing off to the side, smirking.

“Fuck off,” Dash and I mutter at the same time in the same tone of voice.

“Oh, crap, the terror twins are back,” Royal groans.

He and Banks are out here too and the five of us stand there for a moment, no one moving. It’s weird but comfortable at the same time. We’ve hung out a million times before, but it’s never been quite so…poignant.

“Should we sit?” I ask when the silence stretches out.

“Let’s do that,” Banks says, dropping into one of the lawn chairs.

“What do you need, Colt?” Atlas asks when we’ve all settled around the propane-fueled fire pit. “Money? A place to stay? A job?”

“Nah, I’m good. I was very well-paid while I was in that prison camp. And funny story—there’s not a hell of a lot to buy in a Siberian prison commissary.”

Dash kicks my leg. “Smartass.”

“That’s never gonna change,” I say, chuckling.

“We’re serious,” Banks interjects, leaning forward. “What do you need?”

“Actually, taking me to get a phone would be nice at this point. This burner I’ve been using is really the worst.”

“What, the spy world powers that be couldn’t give you a regular fucking phone?” Dash asks.

“Guess I wasn't high enough on the food chain,” I quip.

“I can add you to my plan,” Atlas says, pulling out his phone and typing something in. “You have a preference in color?”

“Color?” I ask blankly.

“The latest version comes in cobalt blue, blackout black, titanium silver, and burning red.” He doesn’t even look up.

“Uh, black is fine,” I say.

“Okay.” He taps away for another minute and then puts his phone away. “It’ll be here tomorrow. I expedited shipping.”

“I can pay for the phone,” I say quickly.

He arches his brows. “Seriously? After all you went through in that prison? Let me buy you a fucking phone. You’ll buy your next one.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest, because Atlas wasn’t a billionaire before I left for Russia. But he is now, and the look on his face brooks no argument.

So, I give in graciously.

“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

“Are you, uh, going to be living here?” Dash asks cautiously.

I turn to him. “I am. You got a problem with that?”

“Nooo.” He draws out the word. “But they need stability, you know? You can’t just bounce in and out of their lives.”

“I already told you I have no plans to do that,” I snap. “And before you say something else to piss me off—yes, I plan to marry her. But we need a little time to get our feet under us, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He slowly holds out his fist.