Page 30 of Oathbreaker

“I…” I feel faint, hot, and cold. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since my last can of unwarmed beans.

“Honey, sit down. Let me get you somethin’. Terry! Fire up that griddle quick and get me some scrambled eggs and grits. And hurry up!”

She turns sideways, assessing me without saying anything for a long moment.

“Sit down, child,” she says, and I do as she commands, sitting on the stool attached to the diner counter. I can tell it used to be red, but now it’s worn—almost pink.

“Ma’am,” my voice cracks. “I don’t have any money for food. At least, not on me right now. I just...if I could trouble you for a phone so I can call someone, I’d be so grateful.”

She blinks at me, then leans closer.

“Who’s looking for you, girl?” Jean rests her elbows on the counter, lowering her voice even though it’s just her and me in the dining area.

I think about it. Is someone looking for me? My lower lip trembles as I think about Hunter.

“No one is looking for me,” I say in just as low a tone. “But I am in a spot. I need to call my friend, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She looks at me, and I can tell she doesn’t believe my story. The smell of breakfast sausage cooking wafts from the kitchen. A man’s voice utters, “Shit!” and without turning around, Jean says, “Language, Terry!”

“Sorry, Ms.Jean!” he yells back.

“I tell you what,” she says, grabbing a glass. She pours apple juice into it and pushes it toward me. “I’ll get you that phone. Nothing but landlines out this way. Cellphones don’t work up here. But eat something. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Terry taps the bell twice, and Ms. Jean walks to the window. When she places the plate of food in front of me, I’m startled to discover tears tracking down my face.

I touch my wet cheeks and look at my damp fingers for a long moment. My eyes drift back to Ms. Jean, and she looks at me with a look I don’t quite understand, but it telegraphs that she does understand.

“You’re safe here, sweetie.” She pushes a napkin toward me. “Now eat,” she says and wanders down to the other end of the counter.

When my plate is clean, Ms.Jean places a cordless phone in front of me.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, and I dial the only number I know by heart.

When I hear Veronica’s voice on the other end, I let out a choked cry.

“Rons?” I whisper.

“Winter? Winter! Winter, Winter, Winter, oh God, where are you? Are you hurt? Are you safe? Do you need?—”

I pull the phone away from my face and hand it to Ms.Jean.

“Please tell her where I am. I’m going to...” I look around the room and spy one of the four empty booths. Without a word, I shuffle over and curl up on the long bench of the corner table.

Then, finally, I allow myself to lose consciousness.

SEVEN

HUNTER

When we get to the spot where Winter should be, there’s nothing more than a dead body being torn apart by a pack of wolves. They growl at our intrusion but scatter when we advance toward them in three SUVs.

By the size and shape, I know it’s not her. And that’s all that counts in this exact moment.

We landed at the nearest airfield that could handle the 767, which happens to be two hours from where Misha located the vehicle that took Winter.

Misha’s detail stands behind the two vehicles in front of us, and I see our guys exit too. They suit up with the firearms they grab from the open trunks.

“Fuck,” Leo mutters, pulling his phone up to his ear to talk to Rio back at Amelia Manor, who is tracking the vehicle along with Misha’s tech guy. Out here in the forest, we’re relying on our satellite phones to communicate with our home base.

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