Page 159 of Oathbreaker

Misha only blinks in response to the gunfire.

“What do you think you know?” Misha asks casually.

That’s the thing. I don’t know shit. All I know is that this eye has popped up too many fucking times, and it’s important.

“Stop playing games, Hroshko,” I say, biting off every word.

“You stop playing games. Where is the book?” he growls.

“What book? We gave you everything that was on Isla Cara. All you need to rule the roost. You’ll be a wealthy man who can own any politician and member of any monarchy you want. You’ve sent me on a trip to Death Island, but you won’t even tell me what for or why. And yes, I get to ask why.”

I walk up to him, gun steady, even though my anger is quickly morphing into rage.

“It’s too damn convenient. You show up right as the FDA blocks Panacea. You show up at my home with information about my abducted girl, all as a setup to make us your bitch. But you and I both know there’s much more going on. So you’re going to tell me every fucking thing.”

Just then, the doors fly open and seven guards, including the three that shadowed us on Isla Cara, stream into the room.

Misha stares at me hard before he slowly begins to clap. “Little Hunter Brigham finally found his balls.”

He gives his guards a dismissive look, waving them away as if nothing about this bothers him. But I won’t allow him to think I’m insignificant. The guards follow their boss’s unspoken command and exit the study, but not before giving Leo and me a threatening look.

I won’t allow him to underestimate me.

His arrogance brings fury to my mouth. Sharp and metallic.

I shoot the leg of the chair Misha sits on.

Misha hisses. “Calm down, Hunter.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, motherfucker.”

An exasperated grin twists Misha’s lips.

“You’ll feel like an idiot when I tell you what’s going on,” he says in a sing-song voice.

The air thickens as Leo adjusts his stance beside me, his steady two-fisted grip a silent acknowledgment of support.

“Let me be the judge of that,” I growl. My hold on my gun tightens.

Misha sighs. “Fine.” All humor drops from his face.

“You are well aware of your father’s dealings and the things he does.” He nods toward the emptied boxes. “But there’s so much more to it than him hosting fuck-fests on his island.”

He stands and raises his glass, finishing the last of his drink. “This,” he rasps, pointing to the crude tattoo behind his ear, “is the sign of The Legion. It’s a secret society that’s actively trying to steal your technology and the organization that will destroy the world rapidly once they have their hands on what they need.”

I want to blink in confusion, but I don’t allow myself to. “Uh-huh, and if this secret society is so evil, why the fuck are you wearing their mark?”

His face grows grim.

“I don’t have this brand because I want it.” There’s so much loathing and anger in his words that I almost flinch. He gives my gun a dismissive glance before settling his gaze back on my face. “If you want to know more than that and how I can save your pathetic lives, stop pointing your fucking guns at me.”

His eyes are hard, and I try to keep any response to his words off my face.

Secret society.

Stealing our technology.

A bewildered chuckle escapes me. I’m in a goddamn Dan Brown novel.

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