Broderick: A Sabine Valley Novel Katee Robert (bts books to read txt) 📖

open edge of my boot and draw the long knife I lifted off Shiloh when she wasn’t paying attention the other day. “I would have gutted you,” I repeat.

Broderick blinks. “You have a knife.”

“Yes.” Nothing more to say to that. With a sigh, I turn the knife around and offer it to him, hilt first. “I suppose you’ll be taking this, since it’s a prohibited item for a Bride to have and all that.”

He gets a strange look on his face. “Keep it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Promise me you won’t stab someone without cause, and you can keep it.”

Now it’s my turn to blink. Surely he’s not going to actually let me keep the knife. It’s a weapon, and Broderick isn’t the kind of fool who hands his enemies weapons without a fight. “Define cause.”

“Monroe.”

I sigh. “Okay, fine. I won’t stab someone unless I feel directly threatened. Is that good enough?”

This is where he crushes my fledgling hope, dim though it is, and tells me that no way will he allow me to keep it, promise or no. What good is the word of an Amazon to a Raider, after all? But he simply nods. “Good enough. Now put that away before your uncle and sister get here.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll wait outside while we talk.”

He gives me the look that question deserves. “I will give you the relative privacy of reading a book over there while you talk.” He points at a short chair tucked back within the bookshelves.

It’s far enough away from the couches and chairs in the center of the room that it should actually offer privacy, but I’ve spent more evenings than I care to count in the last three weeks wandering this library. The acoustics are such that any conversation held within this room seems to echo to each corner of it.

As soon as I realized that, my fantasy of fucking Shiloh against some bookshelves went up in smoke—at least if we didn’t want to get caught.

I slip the knife back into my boot and give Broderick a brilliant smile. “Works for me.” I don’t actually expect my family to have much in the way of information to impart. They’ve been trapped in this place, collateral against my good behavior while I travel back and forth from the Amazon faction. Still, there’s plenty of gossip to share, and I just miss Winry. We’ve only seen each other a handful of times since Lammas, almost always with the other Brides around.

If Cohen’s mistreating her, I’ll fucking kill him.

I don’t have to wait long for Winry to show. My little sister is practically glowing, her pale cheeks pink and her blond hair looking particularly bouncy. Oh, she has a bitchy look on her face, but she’s obviously not suffering through being a Bride or being tortured by Cohen. That’s something at least. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, both of which I’m certain aren’t hers. They dwarf her curvy body, baggy in a way that can’t be intentional. I frown at them. “Are you stealing Cohen’s clothing?”

She blushes a bright red. “These are Maddox’s, actually.”

I stare. “You’re wearing the clothing of your husband’s best friend.”

If anything, she gets redder. “Don’t you dare accuse me of causing problems, Monroe. It’s not like I’m sneaking around behind Cohen’s back.”

I didn’t think my little sister could shock me. Apparently I was wrong. Obviously, I knew she was sharing room with both men, but sharing more than that? “I’m going to need you to explain yourself.”

“I’m going to need you to mind your own damn business.” She crosses her arms over her generous chest. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

I’m about to ask her what the fuck she’s talking about, but our uncle chooses that moment to walk into the room. Jasper, quite frankly, looks like shit. He’s lost weight since I saw him last, and he wasn’t a particularly large man to begin with. His beard has also become long and almost unkept. If not for the clean clothes on his body, he might be mistaken for some mountain man wandering into the city by accident. His smile when he sees us, though, is bright enough. “Hey, girls.”

“Uncle Jasper.” Winry throws herself at him, hugging him for all she’s worth. He was a late-in-life baby for our grandmother, so he’s only a few years older than me and seven years older than Winry. She’s been greeting him exactly like this ever since she could walk.

He keeps an easy arm around her shoulders and walks over to pull me into a hug, too. “How are you holding up?” he murmurs.

“Oh, you know me. Causing chaos and sowing discord.”

Jasper gives me a long look and then glances over my shoulder to where I can practically feel Broderick drilling a hole in the back of my head. “Your groom is spiraling.”

“Pity. I can’t imagine why.”

Instead of laughing like I expect him to, he sighs. “I’m not one to tell you how to go about your business, Monroe. Aisling has taught you well, and you’re more than ready to take over running the faction.”

I raise my brows. “I’m sensing a but coming.”

“But.” He lowers his voice. “You can’t afford to underestimate the Paines. You were still so damn young when they were run out of town. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

I blink. Of all the people I might have expected to underestimate me, Jasper never numbered among them. He’s the perfect Amazon, especially when it comes to supporting the women in the family. “It’s not like you were that much older than me, Grandfather Time. You were only twenty-two.”

“Old enough to make decisions I regret.”

I wonder about that. Best I can tell, he’s been pretty damn happy with Beatrix of the Mystics for the last eight years. No one on the outside looking in would begin to guess that he still had unresolved feelings for Ezekiel Paine.

That’s personal, though.

“I was briefed on the history,” I finally say. For all that