4. Ember
CHAPTER 4
EMBER
CIGARETTES I am a mess. I’m sure I can’t see half of the cuts and abrasions I gained in the fight beneath all this blood and dirt.
The tender skin stretched across my puffy knuckles doesn’t hurt. I’ve developed enough scar tissue to deaden the nerves. When I look back up, I realise Hyland’s attention is fixed on my fists.
“Seen some fights?” he asks quietly.
My throat tightens. “Some.”
“I’d say so based on those hands.”
“What do you know about it, huh?”
“They look like mine,” he replies.
Glancing at his oversized paws, similar patterns of calloused tissue warp his knuckles. A twisted part of me feels validated by our matching marks. I’ve earned my battle scars just like him.
“Just a lot smaller,” I joke sadly.
“I guess,” Hyland mutters, keeping his baritone low. “Where have you been all this time?”
“That’s a long story.” My lips pucker and roll together, niggling a scabbed cut. “One I’ll need alcohol to tell.”
“That can be arranged. You hungry?”
Surprise inches over me at his gently-spoken concern. When I met Hyland, he quickly adopted the scowling, silent persona of a social recluse. This gruff but curious person seems different.
“I haven’t eaten since before the…” I trail off before uttering the word fight. “Yeah, I could eat.”
Hyland leans forward to smack Axel on the shoulder. “Run to the store while we get checked in. Food and booze.”
“Sure,” Axel volunteers brightly. “I’m fucking starved anyway. Anything specific?”
He looks over this shoulder at me, a brow raised. “Well?”
The simple question stumps me. Once I was purchased by Mr Gael, I was fed regularly. The psychological torture of being starved ended when he needed me strong enough to earn him money.
That doesn’t mean I was given a choice. Every aspect of my captivity was still controlled. They didn’t use sexual intimidation to control me like the other women. I was quicky designated as off-limits. But my life was still dangled in front of me like a carrot.
When I don’t answer, Warner speaks up.
“She has a sweet tooth. Always has. Her mum used to make her sit on the naughty step for an hour when she ate sweets after eight o’clock and couldn’t sleep.”
Axel chuffs a laugh. “Is that true?”
“She was strict,” I offer neutrally.
“Well, I can work to that brief. Leave it to me.”
Pulling out a crumpled stack of Pesos, Axel flicks through the creased notes as Warner navigates the car into a corner spot, far from the entrance to the abandoned-looking roadside motel.
“I’ll take some of that.” He sticks a hand out to Axel. “We need to keep a low profile. No credit cards.”
“You think we’re being traced?” Axel hands him a thick stack.
“Better safe than sorry.” Warner shrugs. “The entire world knows we’ve been searching for Ember. Now that she’s vanished, you can bet they’ll be looking at us for answers first.”
“Why are you three here?” I blurt out.
All eyes slide over to me.
“Looking for you.” Warner’s mouth curves down after he answers me. “I told you that.”
“No, I mean… You’re thousands of miles from home, and for what? I’ve been gone for six years. Why not give up?”
His disapproving frown deepening, Warner studies me. He’s always had an uncanny ability to read people. It goes hand in hand with his caring nature. He’s a textbook empath.
But I’m not sure what emotion it is that sears behind Axel’s disappearing smile or Hyland’s thick brows drawing together. Neither of them know me well. I’m practically a stranger.
“Beyond it being our jobs?” Warner eventually says.
“Well… Yes.”
“Em, I swore to Tom that I’d bring you home, one way or another. I’m not in the business of breaking promises.”
For someone who doesn’t like crying or wallowing, I’m winning awards for holding back tears today. I can barely see them through my rapidly blurring vision.
“I could’ve been dead for all you knew.”
“That changed nothing.” Warner shakes his head. “But for the record, none of us doubted for a moment that you would fight like hell to keep on living.”
Opening the car door, he battles to heave himself out then slams it shut with a loud rattle. I wince at his departure, swiping a hand over my one good eye.
“He loves Tom like a brother,” Hyland adds softly. “Warner never would’ve let him down by giving up on your case.”
“Yeah.” I swallow the noxious guilt trying to plug my oesophagus.
“Come on. He’ll get us a couple rooms, then you can get cleaned up.”
“Hang on!” Axel reaches into the footwell to rifle in a bulging backpack. “Put this on.”
He tosses me a scruffy, blue baseball cap. I laugh at the embroidered words scrawled across the front.
“ Less Upsetti, More Spaghetti? What the fuck is this?”
“My fantastically hilarious cap, obviously.” He re-zips his backpack. “Keep that.”
Looking over his outfit again—the dark denim tight to his strong legs and full of rips, his shirt displaying some elaborate cartoon of a pizza slice with legs and a cheesy grin—I come up short.
“Do you buy all your clothes in the kid’s section?”
Next to me, Hyland fails to smother a laugh.
“Why?” Axel asks in confusion.
“Just sensing a theme.” I lift the embroidered baseball cap.
“Wow. That’s two for two.” Axel’s smile fades into a look of supreme disappointment. “Keep it up, and you’ll only have this bucket of joy left to talk to.”
Casting me a loaded look, he joins Warner in leaving the car with a ceremonious door slam. Fabulous. I’ve been awake for five minutes and already pissed off two of my rescuers.
“Can you just tell me what I can say to piss you off too?” I remark flatly. “Then I can get three for three.”
Hyland’s throaty laughter tumbles over me like a rockfall, crashing down a steep mountain face.
“Finding you alive is the best thing to happen to me since I arrived in this bloody country. You’d be hard pressed to piss me off right now.”
Giving him the side-eye, I search for any signs of deceit on his golden features. Two honest, mossy pools stare back, a tiny smile playing on his well-shaped lips.
“Huh.”
“Problem?” He widens his eyes at me.
“Just re-evaluating my initial opinion of you. For future reference, perhaps you should be nicer upon first meeting someone.”
“I’m nice when I have a reason to be.” Hyland grabs the door handle. “This fucked up world doesn’t deserve any less than my suspicion.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“Alright, enough analysis. Move it.”
Letting him climb out, I take a second to breathe while tugging the borrowed cap on. My door is ripped open before I can attempt to piece my scattered thoughts together.
“You need help or something?”
“No,” I snap at him.
“Anytime today, then.”
Teeth gnashing, I manage to get my legs out of the car without admitting how badly my whole body is throbbing. But standing up poses a whole other challenge.
“Just ask for help.” Hyland watches me struggle to move. “I’m right here.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You’re clearly in pain. I can make a good guess that you’re hiding all kinds of mess under that sweatshirt.”
“Maybe you should keep your guesses to yourself.”
Hands braced on his wide hips, he refuses to budge. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Infamously so.” I yelp at the agony racing up my spine when I try to move. “Shit!”
Hyland taps his thick-soled army boot on the ground. “It’s fine. I’ve got all day to wait for you to pull your head out of your ass.”
Ignoring his intensifying glower, I try to heave myself up again yet fail. The first day after a brutal fight is always the worst. I’ve just never dealt with it around people who notice or care before.
“Dammit!” I curse loudly.
Slumping onto the seat, I’m no closer to lifting myself. My usual routine is to remain horizontal and ignore the world until I can handle my injuries. Not go on the run while barely able to move.
“Just ask, Ember. Fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t want your help!”
“You need it.” He allows a thread of sympathy to enter his voice. “Believe it or not, you can trust me.”
“I don’t trust anybody,” I hiss out.
“It’s my job to help you. Trust that.”
Feeling like a complete fool, I finally crack under the pressure. “Fine.”
Hyland stretches out a meaty paw. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Come on. Nice and slow.”
Accepting the hand, I have to bite down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep a whimper in. It’s bad enough they saw me having a total breakdown when Warner found me.
Once I’m up, my pounding head spins with nausea. I’m forced to lean into Hyland’s muscle-hardened side to stop myself from toppling over. The bottle of water I chugged earlier has done little to steady me.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
“Sorry. Dizzy.”
“Mind if I touch you?”
“Hold your horses. We hardly know each other.”
“Hilarious.” Hyland huffs impatiently. “I’m just gonna help you move a bit, alright?”
“Just… be gentle, please.”
“I will,” he reassures.
Banding an arm around my back, his arm slips beneath my shoulder to lift me. The added strength allows me to put one foot in front of the other, getting blood moving back through my strained muscles.
By the time we reach the deathly silent building up ahead, Warner has emerged from a dim side office with two sets of keys. He gestures towards the farthest two doors.
“Paid in cash, no names. Two rooms.”
“They ask any questions?” Hyland grunts.
“Out here? Hell no. The guy was just happy to have customers.”
“Sweet. Let’s roll.”
We shuffle towards our rooms, keeping our heads lowered just in case anyone passes by. Hyland’s hand remains clamped under my arm to take the weight off each footstep.
“You’re in 302.” Warner stops outside the first door, selecting one set of keys. “I need to come in to look you over, Em. You’re barely walking straight.”
“I’m f-fine,” I strangle out.
“Convincing.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not. Ideally, we’d let Sabre’s medics check you out, but I’m not prepared to wait that long.”
Extricating myself from Hyland, I try to stand straight. “Look, I’ve survived worse.”
“That’s…” Warner pushes out a frustrated breath, “so not the point, Em. You know I was a field medic in the military. Let me check you over.”
“Really, I’m okay.”
“Still being a stubborn shit, huh?”
Hyland smothers a chuckle. Dickhead.
“Yep,” I hum.
Reaching for the door handle to escape inside, another rush of pain and dizziness causes me to fall into the painted wood. My body hits it with a thud that can’t be played off.
“Ember!”
I slump back against the taut body that moves behind me. “Oh, fuck.”
“What is it?” Warner demands.
“H-Hurts. I’ll take some painkillers if you have them.”
“Get the supply bags from the car,” Warner orders, his hands moving to grasp my hips. “Inside, Em. No more arguments.”
I’m frogmarched into the dark room, letting Warner pause to flip lights on. It reveals a small, basic space. With a tiled, terracotta floor, simple double bed and rotating ceiling fan, the sparse furnishings fit our needs.
Depositing me on the edge of the bed, Warner surveys me. “Where are you hurt?”
“Ribs,” I wheeze. “Spine. Asshole kept slamming me.”
“Who?”
“Long story.”
“Dammit.” He shakes his head in barely contained anger. “What else? Dizziness?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have a head injury?”
Not a recent one.
Saving me having to cook up a lie, Warner moves to let Hyland in when he raps on the door. The pair flash to my side, a backpack ditched next to me on the mattress.
Toeing off my shoes, my bare feet are rubbed raw from being rushed to shove them on. The reminder takes me soaring back to my earlier escape. Or rather, the stranger who orchestrated it.
No one explained when I revealed Blaine’s name as he’d instructed. But from the widening of Warner’s eyes and Hyland’s colourful curse, they have a history. One I’ll need to uncover.
“I still need to call Tom to update him.” Warner rifles through his supplies, pulling out medical paraphernalia. “You should speak to him.”
His words hit me with the ferocity of a destructive hurricane. The thought of talking to my brother in this state threatens to undo all the mental work I’ve done to lock up my hysteria.
“I can’t yet.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain shooting down my torso. “Just… Call him and let him know I’m safe. I’ll see him when we’re home.”
“It may help,” he attempts again. “Talking to him.”
Hit by another wave of vision-blurring vertigo, I drop my head into my hands. I’m fighting a familiar black tide that’s threatening to pull me under.
“And tell him what? I don’t know how to answer the questions he’ll have.”
After a beat of silence, Warner sighs. “One problem at a time. Tell me how you got these injuries first.”
Looking up at him, I don’t immediately respond. The thought of revealing every last horror-filled moment to the sweet boy who once played with me as a kid may just break me.
Back then, he looked at me like I hung the fucking stars and moon just for him. Warner was a sad teen, fleeing his broken home and warring parents mid-divorce. I made it my mission to make him laugh.
But we’re not kids anymore.
And no one is laughing now.
Warner finishes spreading out his supplies then moves to kneel in front of me. He stops short of placing a hand on my leg, though he clearly notes my bouncing knee.
“I just want to help.” The genuine empathy in his tone pulls at my already aching heart.
“Please…” I bleat. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m just here to get you home in one piece. No judgement, no expectations. You can be honest with me. Tell me as much as you feel able to.”
A swarming hornet’s nest has gathered in my still-pounding head, applying bone breaking pressure. He wants to help, but he has no idea what kind of monster he’s aiding.
“You don’t understand what I had to do to survive.”
Exhaling, Warner looks down at the tiled floor. “I don’t give a shit about that.”
“You will.”
“No, Em. I won’t.”
“The things they made me do… It disgusts me.”
“You’re my friend,” he insists. “I would never judge you. The main thing is that you’re here. Safe.”
My chest rises and falls in a speedy rhythm. Traumatic flashes of every time I’ve punched, gouged, strangled and beaten a total stranger to buy myself another breath pour into my fracturing mind.
It doesn’t matter if the people I hurt deserved it. If they were career criminals or deadbeats looking to make a pretty penny by humiliating me. I survived by embracing violence. By becoming it.
“I was sold,” I say in a hush. “There was an auction after we were shipped here. I’d caused some trouble, so they put me up for sale first with…”
My voice dissolves into a parched whine. Just saying her name aloud feels insurmountable.
“Get her some water.” Warner reaches for a bottle of antiseptic and packaged swabs. “Hands, Em. Keep talking.”
Letting him tackle my abused knuckles first, I flinch at the sting of cold liquid. Warner hesitates when he notices the thick layers of battle scars scored across my knuckles.
“Mr Gael purchased me. He said he had a use for me.”
“Gael?” Warner repeats thickly.
“Antonio Gael.” My hammering heart leaps into my mouth. “You know him?”
Lips pursed, Warner lifts my hands to inspect my wrists. Two thin but jagged bands of silvery skin circle them, evidence of countless handcuffs and restraints. My skin was repeatedly rubbed raw over the years.
“We’ve spent years researching the Mexican cartels.” He lowers my hands. “Our intel gave us Gael’s name and a few other high-profile players. You just confirmed what we suspected.”
“Great.” I laugh icily.
“Tell me about Gael.”
“He’s… powerful. Richer than God. Ruthlessly violent. I’ve seen no less than a hundred women come and go in the last six years, all from different countries.”
Dabbing at my right hand with a swab, Warner hits a sore spot that makes me suck in a breath. He mutters an apology then resumes with a lighter touch.
“He didn’t want me to be his pet. I wasn’t ordered to entertain his friends or colleagues. The moment I shot that thug at the auction, Gael spotted an opportunity.”
“You shot… Jesus, Em. What the hell?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
“Evidently,” he grits out.
Watching him gently treat my busted knuckles, I try to summon the words to tell him just how much has changed since we last saw each other.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
“Just start at the beginning. Take your time.”
Returning to the bedroom with a glass of water, Hyland hands it over for me to gulp down. The liquid moistens my aching throat, allowing my voice to strengthen.
“It’ll be easier to show you.”
I hand him back the glass then grab the hem of my sweatshirt. It’s no easier to yank it off this time, but I push past the stiffness, needing to get the big reveal over and done with.
With the bloodstained fabric pulled over my head, I hear their audible shock when the room reappears. Beneath the splattered sports bra, my torso has darkened to a miasma of vivid black, sickening green and deep, angry purple.
“Gael wanted to shore up his fight club enterprise with a new champion. Someone he could wheel out and milk dry through underhanded betting schemes. A champion.”
Letting them take a good look at my scarred back too, I try not to let the memories of numerous whippings that marked my skin sneak in. The shiny, vertical stripes tell the tale of many punishments.
After the first couple of years, I learned how to play the game. When I didn’t follow Gael’s commands, the punishments were severe. Once I figured that out, I made it my mission to avoid his wrath.
“This is what I had to do to survive.” I sigh in defeat as my secret is revealed. “I had to fight.”
Slumping on his haunches, Warner scrunches the red-tinged cotton balled in his fists. His brilliant blue eyes catalogue my bandaged arm and every last discoloured blotch proving my agony.
As the motel door reopens, admitting a beaming Axel with two plastic bags, Warner’s voice hits like a thunderclap.
“Who the fuck did this to you?”