Page 137 of Broken Oath

Another stood beside him, refusing to let them fight alone.

The mountain had taken six lives.

It hadn’t destroyed the family they left behind.

Cutter stopped.

“You boys started a war.”

Rook looked toward the hidden compartment below deck.

“They started it.”

His expression hardened.

“We’re going to finish it.”

Cutter nodded once.

“Good.”

The warehouse wasn’t sleeping that night.

It was waiting.

The kind of silence that settled over the building whenever Fathom found something important.

And whenever Fathom found something important, somebody’s world usually became smaller.

Rook entered the operations room.

The clock on the wall read 2:07 a.m.

Three hours of sleep.

Four cups of coffee.

Neither one winning.

Shark sat near the rear wall with his injured arm immobilized in a sling. His face remained pale, but the doctor Cutter trusted had confirmed the wound was clean.

Maverick stood beside him, guarding Shark with enough determination to make an argument useless.

Sniper leaned against Fathom’s workstation.

Reef, Falcon, and Cobra occupied the central table.

Fathom sat motionless before the main monitor.

No typing.

No muttering.

No cursing at databases.

Just staring.

Rook immediately knew something had happened.