Page 163 of Broken Oath

Rook almost smiled.

Almost.

A burst of gunfire tore through the dock behind them.

“Move!”

Rook grabbed her hand.

For a fraction of a second, she stared at their joined fingers.

Surprise flickered through her eyes.

Not fear.

Something quieter.

As though no one had taken her hand to pull her toward safety in a very long time.

Then they ran.

Rounds struck the dock behind them.

Steel rang.

Snow burst around their boots.

Rook felt her hand tighten around his as they sprinted toward a line of shipping containers.

They reached cover together.

Neither released the other immediately.

The realization passed between them.

Quick.

Unspoken.

Then she pulled away and changed magazines.

Fast.

Efficient.

Automatic.

No wasted movement.

Rook had watched elite operators perform the same motion thousands of times.

This woman wasn’t merely trained.

She was experienced.

Very experienced.

He watched her scan the ridge.