Page 33 of Oathbreaker

Winter is curled up on the bench of one of the diner booths. Her eyes are open, staring at the empty bench opposite her. Bruises mottle her face. One swollen eye has a cut over it. It’s green and purple.

“Winter?” I whisper. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to touch her or speak louder or what the fuck to do.

“Winter. Sunbeam.” I can barely get the words out—they’re low, choked. She shudders. Then, with agonizing slowness, her eyes meet mine.

The light is dead in her fathomless brown eyes. “Hunter?” she whispers. She trembles, and even though she looks right at me, I know she doesn’t see me.

“I’m here, baby.” She lowers her head a fraction. A nod. Then she lays her head back onto the plastic-covered cushion.

“Winter, I’m here to take you home. Can we go home now?” I kneel on the cracked linoleum, my hand inches from her head.

“Home,” she whispers so silently that I almost miss it.

“Yes, baby. It’s over. This is all over.”

In fragments, I see her break. She weeps. Tears cascade down her cheeks, faster and faster, and her breathing turns erratic as her shoulders shake with sobs.

An inhuman keening sound comes from her gut.

I can’t take it. I shake with her as I scoop her into my arms, pushing the free-standing table to the side and causing the opposite bench to screech against the floor. I place her on my lap as I take her seat.

She clutches at me, and grime and the dark brown of dried blood are embedded around her cuticles. I make a sound in my throat when I notice the nail on her left ring finger is missing—ripped away from the bed.

She fought. She fought him hard. Agony wells in my throat, trapped, unable to release because if I do—I’ll break thoroughly. Completely.

Sunbeam. My Sunbeam....

I found her.

Burying my face into the riot of messy curls, I release a shuddering breath.

She’s here with me. Right here, in my arms.

You did this to her.

The burst of guilt causes the room to spin.

This happened because of me. I put her in this position. If I hadn’t drawn her into my life—this toxic, fucked-up swamp of depravity—this never would have happened.

I gave them the gun. But I’ll make them pay for pulling the goddamn trigger.

I press my lips to the crown of her head and don’t do what I want, which is to crush her to me.

Her body is so broken.

I look down at her wet eyelashes.

How can I help her if her mind is too?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“You’re safe, Sunbeam,” I grind out.

And if anyone tries to take her from me again, I’ll usher them to hell myself.

We rock from side to side.

“It’s over. It’s over. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over,” I say. My voice fractures.

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