Page 113 of Broken Oath

Ridge.

Bishop.

Six reasons.

The silver sword coin rested beside the photographs.

Its polished surface reflected the overhead light.

A mystery.

A promise.

A warning.

Rook picked it up.

Closed his fist around it.

The engraved sword bit into his palm.

Then he looked at his team.

Shadow Division.

Not broken.

Not beaten.

Not finished.

A slow smile crossed his face.

The kind that made enemies nervous.

"Gear up."

Every man straightened.

Rook's voice turned cold.

Precise.

Deadly.

"We're going to steal a shipment."

Chairs scraped backward.

Questions flew.

Maps appeared.

Plans formed.

For the first time since the mountain...

Excitement replaced grief.