Page 55 of Broken Oath

He intended to keep that promise.

But he would have to find another way.

“I’m sorry,” Rook whispered.

His throat tightened.

“I should have brought you home.”

The rain answered.

“I should have brought all of you home.”

A hand closed around his shoulder.

Sniper.

Steady.

Silent.

Fathom stepped beside them.

Three survivors standing before six graves.

Rook reached into his other pocket.

His fingers closed around the silver coin.

The woman’s warning echoed inside his mind.

Stay dead.

He removed the coin and studied the sword with dark wings engraved on it.

Cold.

Heavy.

Real.

“So what now?” Sniper asked.

Rook looked down the row of graves.

Hammer.

Ghost.

Viking.

Tex.

Ridge.

Bishop.

Then he closed his hand around the coin.