13. Ember
CHAPTER 13
EMBER
EXHALE – RARITY
My breath burns in my airways, forcing the constricted flesh to expand. Each time my feet hit the ground, a flare of pain ignites inside my pounding skull.
How long will 768 take to recover?
I pump my sore legs to run faster, farther. Wishing I could physically escape the sick whispers in my mind.
Get the asset back up and fighting.
London’s dense, urban streets are a grey blur all around me, moving too fast for my attention to capture.
Don’t let me down, 768. Your life depends on it.
The rumble of Hyland’s SUV following me while I run has long since been drowned out by the haunting voices. Flashes of those agony-filled days after my injury when all I could do was hope to die.
The severe head injury didn’t kill me. No matter how hard I wished it would. Weeks turned to months, and gradually, my strength returned. The wounds healed. And the terrifying lasting effects set in.
My skull pounds harder as the distance I can push my struggling body to cover becomes my sole focus. I woke up groggy and disorientated, but rather than wallowing, I’m determined to outrun my symptoms.
After surviving another gruelling four miles, Tom’s apartment building comes into view. I’m drenched in sweat, limbs shaking hard and head buzzing with exhaustion. But at least the voices have stopped.
At the sight of Warner sitting on the wide steps outside the building, a stack of folded cardboard boxes at his feet, I pull up short of collapsing in a lifeless heap.
“Woah. Easy, Em.”
Wavering on my feet, I scrunch my eyes shut to battle a wave of lightheadedness. “I’m… okay.”
“What the hell are you doing to yourself?”
“Keeping b-busy.”
Peeling my watering eyes open, the world is still blurry, but a little less so. Warner squints in the afternoon sun, shielding his eyes as he studies me.
It takes a few minutes of panting for me to catch my short breath. He patiently waits for me to cool down, appearing ready to intervene and catch me if my legs decide to give out.
“Okay,” I concede. “I’m good.”
“You look sweaty.” He laughs lightly.
Bracing my hands on my knees, I blink through my still-hazy vision. “Shut. Up.”
“I’ve been sitting here for half an hour. You’ve never run for that long before.”
“How would you know?”
Warner looks down at his black sports watch. “It’s my job to know things. Especially about our clients.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Maybe. What’s up with the marathon running?”
“Needed to work through some stuff.”
“You’re going to have to open up and deal with some of that stuff eventually.” He pins me with a stern gaze. “Sitting down for our interviews doesn’t count as healthy processing.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Ignoring my headache, I roll my eyes. “Why didn’t you wait inside?”
“Your brother called me a dickhead and slammed the door in my face. I figured waiting outside was safer.”
“Your best friend,” I correct in a saccharine voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” He stiffly rises to his feet. “He’s accused me of endorsing your, and I quote, childish and self-destructive bullshit.”
“Ah. That line. He tried it on me too.”
At the sound of Hyland slamming his car door shut, I awkwardly straighten. A stitch is gnawing a hole in my midsection. It’s taking all my willpower not to collapse on the steps now fatigue is setting in.
“That was a particularly gruelling form of self-torture,” Hyland rasps as he approaches us. “Seventeen miles, red.”
“That’s not even a marathon.”
“It’s damn well close to one.” Warner narrows his eyes on me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
When I don’t entertain his prying, Hyland adds to the interrogation.
“Bloody lunatic didn’t even stop for a water break. She was zoned right out.”
“Em!” Warner gasps.
“Thanks,” I snap at Hyland.
“It’s the truth.” He shrugs.
“I can look after myself!”
“But this isn’t healthy,” Warner reasons like I’m a pouting child. “If you’re working through stuff… then you need to talk to someone.”
“How many ways can I tell you to fuck off?” I look between the two men. “I already have a very pissed off brother upstairs, waiting to scream at me some more.”
Before either of them can respond, I silence them with a caustic glare. I’m not here to be lectured about my mental health. They can stick their concern up their asses.
“Your security clearance came through.” Warner lifts the stack of folded boxes. “The directors have approved your appointment to our team as a new recruit.”
Whistling, Hyland braces his hands on his hips. “Well, fuck. This is actually happening.”
“Yep,” Warner confirms, still focused on me. “I’m here so we can pack your stuff.”
“Pack… my stuff?” I squint at him.
“All teams live together. You’re moving into the penthouse to commence your training.”
When I glance between them and see no hint of a joke, I realise they’re deadly serious.
“You want me to live with you three?”
“Want is a strong word,” Hyland grumbles. “Give me the damn boxes.”
Snatching the stack that Warner hands over, he stomps inside Tom’s apartment building. I’m left staring at his wide, taut back and loose bun disappearing inside.
“He’s clearly thrilled by the idea.”
“Ignore him,” he advises.
“That’s a little challenging when he follows me everywhere like a lost fucking puppy.”
Warner shifts down a step to move closer to me. “Hyland would have us all wrapped in bubble wrap and placed in storage if it kept us safe.”
“Fantastic,” I drone.
“He’s harmless, really. His bark’s worse than his bite.”
“And I’m supposed to want to live with that?”
“No. You’re not.” Warner shrugs. “But it’s the rules, Em. We train together, work together, live together. That’s what makes our teams so strong.”
“What other rules have I signed up for without knowing?”
“Beyond a full physical eval and mandatory therapy with the company shrink?”
I stumble like I’ve been slapped right across the face. “W-What?”
“Don’t take it personally. We all have to do it.” Warner winks at me. “Even me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Wish I was, Em. You wanted this, remember?”
I’m suddenly starting to regret agreeing to this job.
“I’m not seeing a doctor, Warner. You know what they did to me in Mexico. If you expect me to trust some idiot in a white coat after that, you’re mistaken.”
When I brush past him to walk up the steps, he quickly follows, fingers latching around my sweaty bicep before I can escape inside.
“Wait,” he urges.
“Forget it!”
“I understand what you’ve been through, but I can’t get around this. We’ll assign a female doctor—one of our best. Hell, I’ll even go with you.”
“No! That’s not the point!”
“I’m sorry, Em,” he attempts to placate. “You have to be medically cleared for training.”
Chin lowering, I squeeze the bridge of my crooked nose. The horrendous violations we all endured is reason enough to give me trust issues. Add to that my debilitating episodes, and I have a lot to hide.
“Is this really non-negotiable?”
“Yes,” he replies with finality.
“Shit. Fine, but I want a female. And you are so not coming.”
Hands lifting, Warner spreads them in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just want you to feel safe and supported.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements. It’s non-invasive, totally standard procedure. You’ll breeze through it.”
Nodding in defeat, I steer to safer topics. “So… us? Living together?”
His lips roll inwards as he fights a smile. “I practically lived at your house growing up. I think I can handle sharing an apartment with you. Just… don’t bring any dates home, alright?”
“Um, why?”
Giving up the fight, Warner flashes me a full grin. “I’d hate to have to bludgeon any inadequate shitbag who thinks he has a chance with you.”
“You… This… Jesus.” I splutter in dismay while scrubbing my sweat-streaked face. “This is insane.”
“I’m joking, Em.”
“Are you?” I groan, my fierce headache seeming to kick up a notch.
“Mostly,” Warner guffaws.
“I’m being serious! Fuck!”
“Hey, it’s going to be fine. We’ve had women on the team before, and the guys will behave themselves. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about, apart from living with three men?”
His shoulders quirk in another shrug. “Yep.”
“Christ. Tom is really going to kill you.”
Warner’s chin dips, a sigh spilling from his mouth. “You can break that news to him.”
“Screw that. You’re my boss, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then you get to break the bad news about our new living arrangement.”
With a curse so vile I’m surprised it came from someone like Warner, he heads inside the building. Hyland lingers in the entrance hall, glowering at his phone with the boxes tucked under his arm.
“Let’s make this quick. Axel has an update for us at HQ.”
“He found something?” Warner questions.
“Not sure. He didn’t go into detail.”
“Alright.” He punches the elevator button. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
As it turns out, Tom doesn’t kill his one and only best friend the second Warner breaks the news to him. Only threatens to have him arrested on trumped-up charges of kidnapping his sister. Apparently, a grown woman can’t make her own decisions.
We end up spaced out in his black-and-white tiled kitchen, multiple roaring voices lancing deep into my pounding skull. Even Hyland has intervened to try to win Tom around without luck.
The bickering rumbles on without an end in sight, causing my headache to reach bone-splitting levels of agony. I’m still in sweaty workout gear, and now I’m choking on testosterone too.
Shakily downing a glass of tepid water, I try to focus on breathing evenly to hold myself together. This is not the time to break down or black out.
“She isn’t joining anything! Forget it!”
“Listen, Tom…”
“No! She’s my sister. My responsibility. The answer is no.”
“She’s an adult!”
“Whose side are you on?”
When their yells reach a fever pitch, a hot wave of anger and indignation causes me to erupt as I slam the glass down on the kitchen counter. It loudly cracks, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Enough!” I abruptly yell.
Hands raised in the air, Tom rounds on me. “Don’t even get me started on you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re acting like a child. What the hell kind of idea is this, Em? You’re not a spy!”
“I’m not anything!”
“You’re safe and free! You’ve got your life back!”
Anguish is a sharp dagger, sliding deeply into my gut. “My life is fucking gone!”
When he tries to argue, a sob unexpectedly bursts out of me. The sound is guttural, animalistic. So out of my control, it makes me feel like I’m about to lose it.
“It’s gone!” I scream at him.
“You’re home. That’s enough.”
“It’s not!” Something breaks inside me, the words I’ve been holding back forcing themselves from my lips. “I’ve lost everything I ever cared about!”
“You’ve got me!” Tom shouts back.
“That isn’t enough! I lost myself!”
“Oh, fuck,” Warner quietly utters.
The suffocating wave of grief hits hard and fast, taking me completely off guard. Now that I’ve said the words out loud, the reality of all I’ve lost is undeniable. And it bloody well hurts.
Tom tries to step in my direction, but I hold up a trembling hand to halt him. I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t even want his kindness. I just want my fury and grief to be validated.
“Enough. We’re done.”
“Please, Em…” He trails off, seeming to doubt himself for the first time.
“No! That’s enough. Don’t bother trying to talk me out of this. I’m going to use all those years of fighting to hurt the right people this time.”
“Why do you have to hurt anyone?” Tom hurls back. “Why can’t you just stay safe?”
“Because Gracie is still out there!” Tears pool in my eyes then leak free to scald my skin. “Just like countless other women and girls. No one else is going to save them.”
“That doesn’t make it your responsibility. You were a victim too.”
“I’m choosing to be more than that! Why won’t you support me?”
“Because I lost my sister!” Tom booms, his face flushing red. “I lost her, and I don’t want to lose you too.”
Silence reigns.
Thick. Heavy. Ugly.
The entire room stills as his awful words linger in the air. My whole body recoils from the devastation of each syllable. I can easily read between the lines.
I lost her.
Not me. Her. The person I’ll never be again.
Glass daggers bury themselves in my heart, shredding apart fragile tissue and leaving me deathly cold. I’m not his sister. Not the one he remembers, at least.
Now I’m just a broken excuse of a person who came home six years later. A person incapable of moving on in a way that he approves of. A person he can hardly stand to look at every day.
Hearing him repeat what my mind has been cruelly whispering to me is confirmation of what I already know. That confirmation cuts so fucking deep, I don’t know if I can hold the slashed ribbons of my heart together for much longer.
“That may be so,” I croak around the heartbreak lodged in my windpipe. “But I’m still your sister.”
“I know, Em. Shit, I’m sorry… I just want to protect you from this whole mess.”
But it’s too late.
The damage is done.
Glancing up at the ceiling, Tom drags in air. It’s taking everything in me not to look at Hyland or Warner, silently watching our battle play out.
“You didn’t escape evil just to put yourself back in the line of fire.” Tom tries to steady his wavering voice. “This is your chance to rebuild your life.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Rebuilding my life.”
“You’re signing up for a commitment you don’t even understand!” He rubs his temples. “Do you have any idea how dangerous working for Sabre really is?”
“I think she understands perfectly,” Warner speaks up. “We’ve explained the risks.”
“So you’ve told my sister how you lost your leg?” Tom combats.
“I know about the car accident,” I quickly intervene.
Throwing his hands in the air, Tom looks between all three of us like he can’t quite believe his ears.
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t protecting four clients being chased by armed assailants. He was left pinned in the crushed vehicle for hours!”
“Don’t you dare.” Warner’s voice has chilled considerably. “That’s enough.”
“Is it?”
My eyes flick to Warner, glaring at his best friend with unfathomable anger. The story of how he lost his limb was always a confidential secret. We all got the same line—a car accident.
It was while he was working on his biggest case. The infamous Harrowdean Manor—one of six private psychiatric institutes scattered across the country—was closed down following the exposure of widespread corruption and abuse.
For years after, he fought to find a new normal. It took months of rehab and physiotherapy for him to even become mobile again, let alone able to have any semblance of independence.
“What about how Becket was killed in a bombing during the Michael Abaddon case?” Tom continues hotly. “Or how Tara was compromised by a trafficker and shot dead by her client?”
“Don’t bring her into this.” Hyland flushes a dark shade of red.
“Why not? You were there! Ethan too!” Tom shakes his head. “He bailed to live on a damn mountainside rather than risk his life again. Why is that?”
Stepping closer to Tom, Warner folds his arms, a grimace twisting his lips. “Our job is dangerous.”
“Haven’t you lost enough friends? You want to risk Ember too?”
Even Hyland flinches at the brutality of Tom’s attack. Sometimes, I forget just how savage he can be after years of courtroom confrontations.
Warner’s face contorts with aggravation. He looks about ready to dent my brother’s skull. They’ve rarely fought or fallen out in over twenty-five years of friendship, but that seems set to change.
“Collateral damage is inevitable,” Warner grits out. “That doesn’t give you the right to parade our losses as reasons to denounce the work we do.”
“No, it gives me the right to ensure my sister doesn’t become collateral damage like the rest of the Anaconda Team.”
“She is a grown adult!”
“Who is clearly traumatised and not thinking straight!” Tom yells back.
“We’re giving her a purpose! A chance to heal!”
“So fighting criminals is supposed to be therapeutic? Seriously?”
Fuck this.
Done with listening to them, I swipe my hands over my wet cheeks then leave the kitchen. If I stay, I may end up actually harming my brother. Even if he’s being a stupid prick right now, I’m not going to risk that.
I slam the door of my temporary bedroom behind me, hard enough to rattle the picture frames hanging on the otherwise plain white walls. The freestanding lamp in the corner sails across the room before I realise what I’m doing.
“Argh!”
Not even the sight of the twisted, damaged metal abates the intense pressure growing in my head and chest. White-hot pain pulsates behind my eyes. I feel like I’m going to explode into a million pieces.
Fear isn’t unfamiliar to me. I know what it does to your mind. How it warps every last fundamental part of who you are and how you think. It can turn even the sanest person into an unstable whirlwind, given enough time.
My brother is afraid.
Perhaps rightly so.
That isn’t going to stop me from taking this chance, though. His fear is exactly that— his . Not mine. And he will have to learn to control it before he permanently hurts the people he loves.
Fisting my hair, I press my fingers into my head, hoping to relieve the deep ache. I easily find the gnarly lump across the back of my skull where Gael’s physician stitched my gory head wound.
After releasing my head, I begin to randomly throw belongings into the boxes that Warner assembled. I unpacked a couple of weeks ago, having nowhere else to go. Now my entire life is back in cardboard boxes once again.
A gentle knock on the door draws my attention.
“Red?”
“Go away.”
“Not likely. Can I come in?”
“I’m packing,” I call back.
“Need help? Tom left. Warner’s gone after him.”
Great. They can verbally kill each other in public instead.
“Fine, come in.”
The thud of Hyland’s usual rubber-soled army boots is unmistakable. I’m focused on haphazardly folding a wool sweater when he lightly taps my shoulder.
“You doing okay?”
“Just peachy.” My voice comes out strained. “What the hell is Tom’s problem?”
Moving to sit at the foot of the bed, Hyland watches me pack with visible concern. “He’s protective. I get it.”
“There’s protective, and then there’s fucking insane. You of all people should get that.”
“Ouch. Thanks for that.”
“Welcome,” I snark back.
“Talk to me, Ember. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“This isn’t some stupid, rash decision!” I erupt in frustration. “I’m trying to find purpose. I have skills to offer.”
“We know that.” He shifts, crossing his ankles. “And he will come to that realisation too. Right now, he’s just worried sick.”
“And lashing out like a total dick?”
“Well, yes. That too.”
Giving up, I lob the sweater into a box. “That stuff he spewed about Sabre and your job was fucked up.”
Hyland hesitates before replying, his hand massaging the back of his neck. “He’s not wrong. We’ve lost a lot of people in the line of fire.”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“I’m not sure Warner sees it that way.”
“Why?” I exclaim. “He isn’t to blame.”
“He’s been a part of this team the longest. Every loss has been personal for him, and it’s been that way since he began working for Sabre.”
The extent of Warner’s loss isn’t something I’ve ever considered before. When his parents finally divorced and his father left the country, I think he was relieved it was all over. But he still lost his family.
Then as an adult, not only has he lost a limb and his independence for a long period of time afterwards, but Warner’s also lost multiple co-workers and friends. Especially in the army. Grief just seems to follow him.
Yet it hasn’t closed him off or turned his big heart to stone. Quite the opposite. I’ve never known someone more devoted to his work or willing to put his life on the line to help a fellow human.
“You’ll quickly learn that everyone who works for Sabre has a colourful past.” Hyland releases his neck. “Our histories are what make us committed to this line of work.”
“Perhaps go and tell my brother that.”
“He knows it already. Tom will come around.”
“I don’t care if he doesn’t.” Grabbing a stack of t-shirts, I toss them into the box next. “This is my life. I’m entitled to do with it what I please.”
When another wave of vision-blurring pain sweeps through my skull, I have to pause for a moment to lean against the built-in wardrobe. My legs are ready to give out.
“Ember?”
“I’m good,” I force the words out.
“Let me help. Your folding is giving me fucking anxiety anyway.”
With some deep breaths, I keep hold of consciousness and manage to respond. “Like you ever get anxious.”
The bedsprings squeal as Hyland stands up. “You’d be surprised.”
Nudging me aside, he begins to pull clothes from the rail inside my wardrobe to neatly fold and pack. The longer I watch him, the tighter my throat becomes, constricting with an odd emotion.
For someone who has always craved independence, having him recognise that I’m struggling and insist on helping feels weird. But also good. Soothing. Like I’m not alone in this endless fight to survive.
“Everything is going to be okay.” Hyland folds the lid shut once the box is full. “You’ll see.”
“Are you coming around to the idea of me joining the team?”
“Hah. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
If I didn’t have a headache before, his constant mood swings would give me one.
“I really don’t understand you sometimes.” I rub my aching forehead. “One minute you want to train me so you can keep me safe, the next you’re moaning and stomping off.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, red.”
“Try me.”
Shoving the full box towards the door, Hyland silently starts emptying the wardrobe drawers to fill another. I’m left waiting for an explanation that never comes.
When it’s clear that he isn’t going to indulge me, I take another breath then move to empty my underwear drawer into a third box. No way am I letting him touch my bras and panties.
“Why do women have so many clothes?” he grumbles quietly.
“I have less than most. Don’t be an ass.”
Stacking his box on top of the first one, Hyland averts his eyes when he spots me sorting through cotton and lace. I think the oaf is actually fighting off a blush.
If all it takes is the sight of my underwear to freak him out, he’s going to have a whale of a time living with me. I’m really not sure if Warner has thought this plan through.
Between the two of us, we get Tom’s spare room packed up relatively quickly. I’m shoving my toiletries and toothbrush into a washbag when the apartment door slams loudly.
“Time to face the music,” Hyland murmurs. “Ready to go?”
“I guess so. But I’m not arguing with him again.”
Shaking his head, he gestures for me to go ahead. “I won’t let that happen.”
When I pass Hyland, who has already hefted a box to rest on his shoulder, warmth spreads through my lower back at the feel of his palm resting there. My stomach flip-flops.
Shit.
Perhaps this is a bad idea.
I’ve already kissed Axel in a moment of madness. Even if he hasn’t brought it up since, it still happened. Now I’ll be living in close quarters with him. And my heart hasn’t quite realised that Hyland isn’t up for grabs either.
Double shit.