Page 6 of Oath
I ran a hand down my face, exhausted but still very much wired beneath the skin.
“She asked me today why I stuck her in the apartment like it was a cage,” I said. “I didn’t tell her it’s the only place I can breathe when she’s not in the room.”
Alphabet gave me a long look, then stood, joints popping.
“You going to tell her that?”
“No.”
“Maybe try it. You don’t need to give her the whole op. Just the truth.”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t wait.
“Wake me before your shift’s up,” he said, and whistled for Goblin. “And Bones?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“We’ve got your back. Always have. Don’t forget it.”
The door clicked shut behind him. I sat there, watching the lights blink and blur until my reflection stared back in the darkened glass, all sharp lines and heavier eyes.
I didn’t forget.
That was the problem.
Chapter
Two
VOODOO
Braxton Harbor smelled like rust, salt, and old lies. Felt like home, in the worst ways. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions, just kept swallowing what people dumped in it—bodies, deals, regrets. Each day spent here pulled memories I’d buried deep, ones I’d stopped trying to scrub out. Not nostalgia. Just familiarity. Like the ache of a healed break when the weather shifts.
The warehouse was quiet—too quiet, if you asked me. Grief hung like low lying fog over everything. Doc, his girl, and his people—kind of funny that one of the most standup guys I knew not only hung out with an actual gang, but seemed very much at home with them.
I trusted Doc. For the most part, I trusted Doc’s judgment. If it came down to trusting him with my life? I would. But I didn’t—and wouldn’t—extend that trust to everyone else around him. I wasn’t alone in that decision. When Bones made the call to distance Grace from the Vandals and their trouble? None of us argued.
With that in mind, I took care of setting up an apartment where she could be comfortable. Neutral ground, no links to the people here, good sight lines, and private enough to keep hershielded from anyone looking for her too. We were taking turns watching over her, playing musical chairs with paranoia. She didn’t like it. Not even a bit, but so far, she focused her irritation on Bones.
Probably because he’d been the one to drop the bomb on her about sitting out the next week or two. Hopefully, the job here wouldn’t go longer. If it did, it did, but I suspected Grace’s cooperation would be stretching it to go even one week without a solid reason beyond—we would prefer she kept her distance.
Funny thing was, most people probably assumed she’d be high-maintenance, fragile. A model wrapped in designer threads and glass expectations. But she’d adapted. Fast. Slotted in like she’d been around this world longer than I had. Joked with us. Looked after us when we needed it. Knew when to keep quiet. Knew when not to.
Firecracker was fierce, and more, she was tough as hell. Still, none of that meant I wanted her near the Vandals. They weren’t just criminals—they were chaos barely held together by blood and code. They had a long and bloodied history, and, based on recent patterns, dangerous enemies. You didn’t throw someone like Grace into that fire, no matter how well she walked through smoke, without a damn good reason.
It was nearing midnight when my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I sent it to voicemail. Three more calls. Three more declines. After the fourth call, the unknown number sent a text message.
Answer the phone, Asshole.
I almost smirked, but no, I didn’t answer it. I didn’t know the number and I really didn’t give a fuck if they wanted to call me an asshole. Definitely didn’t encourage me to answer the call sooner.
Five minutes elapsed before another text came through.
We need to talk. One more call, then I don’t bother. DOR
DOR.
I knew whyhewas reaching out to me and no one else. I was the one person whomightanswer the call. Then again, I wouldn’t have a problem slitting his throat after what happened in France, either. So maybe not the win he was going for.
