Page 170 of Oathbreaker

No time to investigate.

I look left, right, and up in search of more shooters and August.

Just run like hell, Winter.

One. Two. Three—I sprint out of the pavilion and down the path that leads to the hangar. I keep low to the ground, allowing the bushes and blooms to conceal my trek.

Flashing red and white lights shine from the helipad, and the sight causes me to go faster. But the area around the helicopter is empty, and it doesn’t look like anyone is in the pilot’s chair.

I allow myself to take a deep breath when my back hits the structure’s metal siding.

Think, think, think.

Voices come from inside the building, and I keep my steps light as I shift toward the open door.

“We will not leave until we have Brigham’s daughter.” A deep, rumbling voice.

“Well, by now Brigham will have reinforcements coming, so we should pull out,” another man volleys back, an edge of sarcasm lacing his tone. “He told us?—”

“Remember your fucking place,” the other man grinds out.

My brain vibrates when I allow myself to acknowledge that I know the voices.

No….

Things are silent for a second, and I crab walk closer to the door to peer in.

I take in the scene for a moment before pressing back to the side of the building.

August lay on the floor, curled in a ball near the open sliding doors that are large enough to taxi in a small jet. From my vantage point, I see the slight flicker of his eyes open and shut—just a sliver of awareness.

Standing over him is a red-faced Carlos, a lead guard on Hunter’s security team.

…And Marcus Law. My dimple-faced former neighbor.

I knew he was too goddamn smiley.

My heart rate triples as I try to formulate a plan to get August out of the hangar, across the garden, and into the safe room.

It’s too risky.

Angry, hot tears pool in my eyes, and I let them fall. This is all so fucking unfair.

“You know what? Fuck you, Law,” Carlos growls.

“Eh, no thanks,” Marcus says. Seconds later, a familiar pop-thud echoes off the metal.

I chance a look back inside. Carlos is down, blood leeching from his temple as his eyes stare at the too-bright ceiling.

Marcus sighs. He peers over August’s still frame, and I raise my gun, ready to point it through the open door and shoot Marcus in the back, but feedback from his hip forces me to still.

“Law, Rodrigo is out. Tank is down, shot in the garden, but he’s alive. Says he got shot by Brigham’s bitch.”

My heart jumps in my throat. Okay, they know I’m around here. And I shot a guy named Tank?

Marcus pulls his comm from his belt and growls into the microphone. “Well, find the bitch and bring her to me,” he grinds out.

Right then, a loud boom echoes across the manor, and when I take my eyes off Marcus to look toward the mansion, white smoke billows into the night sky.

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