Page 55 of The Oath We Give

If Stephen has something to do with this, it’s best if they are all here.

The slamming of car doors makes me flinch. The four of them move in sync, looming shadows that glide in unison. A part of me had always been jealous of them, their bond. How they were never alone, always in a pack.

I’d been fascinated by the idea that something more than their family’s legacy tethered them together so tightly. You don’t just connect with a person over history. What they do for each other? There is trauma and secrets binding them.

As enigmatic as they all are, I find myself only looking at Silas. Those deep-set brown eyes speak words his mouth doesn’t. When dealing with someone like him, someone who doesn’t speak or show any emotion, you quickly learn to pick up on the micromovements.

Like right now, with his eyebrows lowered, eyes squinted just a little as they look me up and down? He’s concerned for me, checking me for injuries, making sure I’m alright.

When he stops his gaze on my hand, I instinctively glance down at it, looking at the small pool of blood gathering on the ground below. As if my brain just now reminded me of my injury, a dull throb radiates from my wrist.

I lift my hand, looking at the wicked cut that stretches from the corner of my wrist to my knuckle, leaking blood.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” I reply curtly, rubbing my wrist across my jeans to wipe away some of the blood. “Just a cut from the car window.”

I am not weak.

Not on the outside.

I will not show them just how broken I really am.

Even if one of them already knows.

Regardless of my indifference toward him, my internal struggle with my attraction and need for distance, I know Silas will keep that secret. He won’t tell them just how broken and scared I am.

Silas Hawthorne is the keeper of secrets. The unstoppable force and immovable object. Silent water, with unknown depths filled with mysteries he will take to his grave.

“I found her phone but can’t find any mention of where she might have been going, if she even made it out of this parking lot. I think we should split up.”

Rook, Alistair, and Thatcher watch me, the three of them conjuring up their assessments of me, drawing conclusions about what they know and what they see. Eyes on me have never made me uncomfortable, just fucking annoyed. I can deal with the stares; it’s the judgment that bothers me.

“What?” I snap. “What are you looking at?”

“No introduction?” Rook asks, lifting an eyebrow. “You pay for our meal the other night, and that makes you think you can start giving orders?”

They don’t understand me. They don’t get it, and that’s fine. I don’t need them too, but I didn’t come here to make friends with them. I’m not here to bond or talk about our sad stories.

I want to find my sister.

I didn’t call them. I called Silas. If they have a problem with that, they need to take it up with him.

“I’m not interested in introductions between us. Not when you know my name and I know yours. Right now? That’s all we need to know about each other,” I retort harshly. “The temperature is dropping. If she is somewhere on Black Sands Cove, she will not survive the elements through the night.”

“No offense, but why should we help you?” This question comes from Thatcher, hands tucked in his slacks, watching me like he can see my skeleton. “The only reason we are here is because you claim this has to do with Stephen. Why would he get out of prison just to go after your sister? If you’re taking advantage of the situation, you won’t like the outcome.”

My molars grind together, jaw twitching as I slip Lilac’s phone into my back pocket. From the corner of my eye, I watch Silas step a little closer to me before speaking.

“She isn’t the enemy here. Watch your fucking step.” Silas’s voice is harsh, slicing through my skin with heat, shocking his friend, it would seem by the look on his face.

However, I don’t need anyone to defend me.

I make direct eye contact with the man they call death. The one that’s rumored to fillet people alive for fun and falls asleep to the sounds of screams. His harsh blue eyes dig into my own, but I refuse to flinch, to look away.

“You think I’m afraid of you, Pierson?” A cruel smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “I withstood torture that would make you shit your Brioni slacks. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying to intimidate me.”

I take a moment to look at all of them, and then I grab the bottom of my shirt and tear off a long piece of fabric, feeling the fabric give way beneath my fingers.

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