Page 74 of Broken Oath

Not buried beneath a mountain.

Alive.

Rook sat on the edge of the narrow bed and dragged both hands over his face.

The clock on the wall read 4:17 a.m.

He wouldn’t sleep again.

He rarely did after the dreams.

Rook pulled on his boots and walked onto the main floor.

The warehouse had changed during the past five months.

Cutter repaired the roof and reinforced the exterior doors. Fathom installed security cameras, encrypted communications, and backup generators. Sniper created a training area near the rear loading bay.

The rusted stairs had been replaced.

The broken windows had been sealed.

Weapons filled locked cabinets hidden behind movable walls.

Three motorcycles and two black SUVs waited near the side entrance under false registrations.

What had once been an abandoned boat-repair warehouse had become a headquarters.

Shadow Division had a home.

But it still didn’t have answers.

Rook stopped beside the memorial table.

Six photographs.

Six challenge coins.

Every morning began here.

He straightened Viking’s coin, though it wasn’t crooked.

“You told me to find him.”

Viking smiled at him from the photograph.

Rook lowered his voice.

“I’m trying.”

The dead didn’t answer.

They never did.

Blue light glowed across the warehouse.

Fathom sat at his workstation wearing the same black shirt he had worn the day before.

Possibly the day before that.