Page 48 of Broken Oath

A rifle detail raised its weapons.

The first volley cracked across the cemetery.

Rook flinched.

He couldn’t stop it.

For one brutal second, he was back on the mountain.

Muzzle flashes along the ridges.

Bullets striking stone.

Viking firing into the darkness.

The second volley came.

His ribs tightened around a breath that wouldn’t come.

The third volley echoed through the rain.

Then a bugler lifted his instrument.

The first notes of “Taps” drifted across the cemetery.

Sniper bowed his head.

Fathom removed his glasses and pressed two fingers against his eyes.

Rook stared straight ahead.

He wouldn’t look away.

He owed them that much.

One by one, the folded flags were carried to the families.

Hammer’s mother accepted his.

Ghost’s older brother took his with both hands.

Viking’s mother sat rigid beneath a black umbrella. Even from a distance, Rook could see the fury beneath her grief.

Viking had been right.

She was pissed.

The thought almost made Rook smile.

Almost.

Then the officer moved to Tex’s family.

A little girl stood beside her mother.

Six years old.

Brown hair.