Page 32 of Oath

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Shit. We didn’t have it. I doubted they would believe us.

We rounded the next turn, ducking into an alcove of corroded pipes and graffiti-painted concrete. I keyed the mic.

“Bones. Talk to me.”

Static.

Then—“Two down. Third’s armored. I’m bleeding.”

Not a complaint. Just a fact.

“How bad?”

A pause.

“Worse than it sounds.”

“Worse thanyourstandards or human standards?”

Bones gave a low chuckle. “Keep going. I’ll meet you back at the safehouse.”

I glanced at Voodoo, who shook his head.

“We’re not leaving you.”

“Yeah,” Bones said. “You are.”

And then?—

Silence.

I clenched my jaw and turned back to the path. No time for sentiment. Not down here.

We moved.

Faster now. No chatter. No lights.

O’Rourke stumbled again. I didn’t catch him this time.

Let him bleed.

When we finally surfaced, it was behind an abandoned garage just off the highway. Two miles from the bar, maybe more. The sun had just started its descent—drenched everything in gold and shadow.

I slammed the hatch behind us.

Alphabet’s voice came back, clearer now. “You’re clean. Thermal sweep passed over. Bones bought you time.”

I didn’t respond.

Voodoo walked O’Rourke to the rusted-out SUV we’d parked the night before. Slammed him against the hood.

“Start talking,” he growled.

“I told you everything,” O’Rourke gasped. “Vega’s a group now. They took what was left of the operation, turned it into something new. Self-regulating. Self-funding. You think someone gave the kill order?”

He looked up, eyes wide.

“No. Theyarethe kill order.”

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