Page 65 of Broken Oath

For a long moment, Rook simply stood there.

The warehouse faded.

The harbor disappeared.

The years rolled backward.

Hammer laughing inside the helicopter.

Ghost checking his rifle.

Viking complaining about the coffee while continuing to drink it.

Tex showing everyone his daughter’s picture.

Ridge walking toward the storage building with grenades in his hands.

Bishop standing behind his machine gun as an army descended on him.

Brothers.

His eyes settled on Tex’s photograph.

The frame sat slightly crooked.

Rook reached out and straightened it.

Cutter had delivered the photograph from the funeral to Tex’s daughter. He hadn’t explained how he had done it.

He had only called Rook three days later and said four words.

She knows he remembered.

That had been enough.

Rook stepped back.

The dead weren’t coming home.

The living still had work to do.

Keys clicked from across the warehouse.

Fathom sat behind three monitors surrounded by cables, hard drives, and enough electronic equipment to make several federal agencies nervous.

When they arrived, that corner had been filled with broken nets and rusted boat parts.

Now it looked like a command center.

Sniper leaned against a support beam, watching Fathom work.

“You planning to hack a country?”

Fathom didn’t look up. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“How annoying they are.”