Broderick (Sabine Valley #2) - Katee Robert Page 0,100

you can come and go as you please. You’re going to send us to war, and we’re not ready.”

I can’t think clearly enough to lie. “Shiloh brought us to her childhood home.”

Another pause. “Are you saying that Shiloh is an Amazon? Has been an Amazon this entire fucking time?”

“Yes. No. I don’t fucking know, Abel. She left the city years before we met her. What the hell does it matter?”

“It matters,” he bites out. My brother curses. “We can’t do a damn thing for her.”

“The fuck you can’t. Talk to Fallon. She’ll have—”

“I cannot do a damn thing for her,” he repeats, harder this time. “If we come in there to pick you up, guns blazing, Aisling will use it as ammunition to prove we broke treaty first. She and Ciar will join forces to crush the Raider faction.”

“If we don’t get the antidote, Shiloh will die!”

“I’m sorry.” He actually sounds like he means it. “But I have to weigh the lives of everyone in the faction against hers and, fuck. Broderick, I’m sorry but I can’t help her. If you can get her across the river to us…”

“Monroe went after the Mystic. I can’t leave her.” A decision I wouldn’t have hesitated to make a few weeks ago in this same situation. But Monroe went after the assassin on her own. She has no backup. I can’t leave Shiloh unattended, but I also can’t leave Monroe hanging here.

It’s not because she’s the Amazon heir and if she’s harmed, it will go just as badly for us as if Abel brought a squad to rescue us. I can’t leave her because… Fuck, I care about my Bride. More than care.

Gods, this is so fucked up.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Do you trust Monroe?”

“Yes.” It’s the truth.

“The Mystics carry the antidote on them. If she can get it, it will help Shiloh faster than anything I can do.” He pauses. “We’ll be waiting at the western bridge. Get back to us safely, brother. That’s an order.”

I hang up. A quick look around shows the street is still deserted, but I don’t know how long it will stay that way. As much as I don’t want to move Shiloh, we can’t stay here. I hold my breath as I ease her into my arms and stagger my feet, heading for the truck. “Hang on. Just hang the fuck on. Monroe will get the fucker and bring us the antidote.”

I hope like hell I’m not lying.

Chapter 30

Monroe

Rage gives me wings. I fly over the ground in pursuit of the Mystic. I can just see their robes, a deep purple and blue that would blend perfectly into a twilight skyline. They’re moving fast, having obviously already scouted out a quick exit, but I know this faction better than anyone.

I follow for another half a block before I feel like I have a good read on their direction. Then I veer right, cutting down two blocks and scrambling up a porch column to the roof of the building. I pick up speed, easily jumping the gaps between the buildings as I head for the street they should be coming down any moment.

Sure enough, the fucker is pelting in my direction. Their face and hair is hidden beneath a hood, but they don’t bother to look behind them. Fool.

I throw myself off the building as they approach. They look up as my shadow passes over them, but by then it’s too late. I hit them hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs, but who needs to breathe when fury is propelling them? I straddle them, easily dodging a punch, and grab their throat, slamming their head back into the pavement. Once. Twice. On the third time, their arms fall back to the street and lie still.

Not dead. Unconscious.

I keep one hand on their throat and fumble through their robes with the other, searching for… Ah, there it is.

I yank back the hood to find a man with light-brown skin and black hair. He shudders and opens his eyes. Good. I hold up a dart, careful to keep my fingers away from the sharp end. “Is this what you shot my girlfriend with?”

“Fuck off, Amazon.”

“Hmm. Thought you might say that.” I release his throat and grab his arm. It’s a better location, because it will give him time to react instead of knocking him out cold the way he did Shiloh.

Hang on, love.

I jab the dart into his forearm and jump back. Predictably, he doesn’t