17. Ember
CHAPTER 17
EMBER
LIMBS – PLGRMS
“Good, Ember! Again.”
Facing off against Archer, I bob around the boxing ring, appraising my opponent. He’s skilled and well-trained, but after blocking my first few blows, his efforts to avoid me have failed.
Speed is my best asset, and I need every edge I can get over him. The fact that Hyland is watching us spar only increases my desire to finish off the bald agent he assigned to fight me.
At first, I allowed Archer to think that his job would be easy. He managed a strike to the chest before I unleashed hell on him. Three seconds later, he was stupefied and clutching his face.
“Shit,” Archer mutters between puffed breaths. “You’re fast.”
“You’re not.”
Dropping low with one knee drawn to my chest and the other leg stretched out, I sweep my foot in a wide arch to yank his feet from underneath him. Archer goes down faster than a collapsing building.
While less bulky than Hyland, his considerable weight causes a seismic thump when he makes impact with the mat. I rise to my feet, fists raised to my chest and ready to respond if he tries to get back up.
Beating him was fun at first. It got the blood pumping and reminded me why I earned such a formidable reputation overseas. Now I’m bored and want a bigger challenge.
“You asked for that!” Hyland calls out.
Grunting, Archer blinks rapidly while staring up at the training room’s ceiling. “Touché.”
“You’re strong but slow.” I shrug at the sight of him flopping around. “We can keep doing this all day.”
“Rain check?”
Wrestling himself upright, Archer rubs his spine. He’s already sporting a big, black bruise across his cheekbone where I first clocked him. I bet he’s regretting accepting Hyland’s request now.
Looking over at the blonde brute, I gesture for him to join me with a crooked finger. His sandy locks are pulled into a low ponytail today, leaving several silky flyaways to frame his face.
I’ve never seen Hyland out of the all-black cargos, tight t-shirts and signature army boots he’s always wearing. Not even in the mornings when I emerge from my room to find him gulping coffee.
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“Scared?”
“I’m not in the business of beating up my teammates. We have Axel for that.”
Smart man.
After the debrief and discovering that Blaine Madden was at the underground trafficking meet, I was beyond ready to step into the ring. Hyland attempted to put it off, protesting against the idea of me aiding their upcoming offensive.
I’m not going to tolerate his macho, overprotective shit. If that means handing him his ass in the training ring to prove my abilities, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
“You can have a go, dude.” Archer grunts in pain as he finds his feet. “I’ve got a surveillance job tonight. I don’t need any more bruises.”
Hyland rolls his eyes at the grumbling agent, limping off with little more than an unenthusiastic wave in my direction. While his team is still learning the ropes at Sabre, something tells me Archer didn’t expect to be humiliated so easily.
Stretching my arms above my head, I roll my warmed-up muscles. It feels amazing to do what I’m good at again. The fight against Blaine was a taste of power, and now I want more.
Ducking between the ring’s ropes, Hyland hefts a hardshell case onto the mat. It lands with a heavy thud. He kneels beside it and unclips the hinges.
“Forget it, Em. I’m not gonna lay a finger on you. We’re moving on to weapons.”
“We’ve only been in the ring for two hours.” I pout at him.
“Clearly, there’s nothing more about physical combat that I can teach you. You’re already better than the head of our newest team.”
“Well, shucks. You’re giving me a compliment?”
“Uh huh,” he mumbles.
Sauntering over to him, I’m gifted a view inside the equipment case. A variety of weapons are nestled in black foam, including two shiny handguns and a wide selection of knives.
“Sabre needs agents,” Hyland continues. “Being one means learning how to be invisible, to stalk a target and identify their pressure points. How to manipulate, subjugate, and ultimately, capture. Not just punch your way through life.”
“You’re spoiling all my fun.”
Scoffing at me, he sits back on his haunches. “You ever handled a gun?”
“Sure,” I state sarcastically. “Gael let me walk around with a loaded AK-47 for the hell of it. I just never thought to kill everyone and escape before.”
The look he shoots me is full of ire. “Be serious. I know you shot someone at that auction.”
“Yes,” I admit gruffly. “I told you what happened. But I stole that gun, and my aim was pretty shit.”
“It’s lucky you didn’t blow your arm off, firing a weapon without training.”
“I had to do something.”
Hyland gestures for me to join him on the mat. “After today, you’ll never be in that position again.”
Squatting down to join him, I study the array of weapons he has on display. “What are we learning?”
“I’m going to talk you through the basics on a standard issue, semi-automatic pistol. You need to take this seriously, Em. Respect the weapon. This is life and death right here.”
“Got it.”
He lifts the sleek, silver and black pistol. Hyland is thorough, explaining each component and pointing out the muzzle, barrel, trigger and grip.
He racks the slide to load the gun then talks me through reloading the magazine with more ammunition. To my surprise, he doesn’t grumpily bark at my questions but carefully explains each step until it’s clear.
“Sabre agents are authorised to use force when needed.” He checks the safety before placing the gun back into the foam. “That isn’t a license to run around doing whatever the fuck you want.”
“Noted. Don’t I get to hold it?”
“We’ll go to the shooting range downstairs for that.” He lifts a wickedly sharp switchblade with deep grooves in the grip. “How are you with knives?”
“Um… I’ve cut vegetables with them before?”
Hyland exhales dramatically. “Why did we waste two hours in here?”
“Hey, I told you I could fight with my fists. You’re the one who insisted on a demonstration.”
“Well, enough dicking around. You clearly can handle yourself in a physical altercation, but we’ve still got a lot of other ground to cover.”
Uncertainty makes me chew on my bottom lip. Glancing up at me, Hyland’s golden brows pull together in a concerned line.
“What is it?”
“How am I supposed to learn all of this in less than two weeks?”
“You don’t have to,” he replies easily. “Skip the raid. We’ll handle it.”
“No chance. I want to be there!”
He passes the blade between his hands. “I’m willing to give this a shot, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you walk into enemy fire unprepared.”
“Then help me get prepared,” I implore.
“We train new recruits for at least three months before assigning them to active duty. And even then, it’s nothing too risky or intense.”
Placing a hand on his vein-studded arm, I gain his attention. “I’m not the average new recruit. Teach me what I don’t already know. Help me be ready.”
His nostrils flare. “You’re asking for too much, red.”
“I’m asking for your help. Your guidance. I’m asking for your trust.”
Gazes locked, I can see his reluctance. It twists and tangles in the earthy threads that sculpt his irises. Hyland can’t decide where his priorities lie—protecting me or letting me retake my life.
Sucked into the magnificence of his olive-toned orbs, I find myself wondering when I last pleaded with someone. It’s not something that comes naturally to me. Pleading equals vulnerability in my books.
But I feel safe enough to occupy that fragile space with him. I’ve let Hyland see glimpses of the real Ember, beyond the caricature I play so well. And he hasn’t hurt that broken woman. Not yet.
“I do.” His reply offers some assurance. “We wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”
“Then let’s get to work. I need to be ready for the raid.”
Gaze softening, his reluctance drains away to leave a familiar look of concern. “Why put yourself through it? There will be other chances.”
The scent of a fresh, salt-laced breeze pours from him, a perfect match to the raw strength of his voice. He talks like the ocean is spilling from his lips, full of deafening waves and almighty force.
In another life, Hyland could’ve passed for a surfer. Perhaps even a modern-day Viking. He certainly has the cut muscles and unruly hair to fit the stereotype.
Most would find his intimidating stature exactly that: downright terrifying. Yet he selflessly wields his extreme strength by helping those who wash up on Sabre’s doorstep.
“I need to prove to myself that I can do it,” I whisper back. “That I can take all the evil they poured inside me and use it for good. I won’t know until I try.”
“You aren’t evil.” His gentle smile causes warmth to seep through my veins. “What they made you do was evil, but you… are not.”
“Tell that to the trail of people left behind me. Shit, I did far worse than leaving them unconscious after a fight. I don’t know if they all survived.”
“That’s irrelevant.” Hyland flicks his wrist dismissively. “What you did was under threat of death or worse. You had no choice.”
“But I chose to enjoy it.”
“Ember…”
“It’s true. I chose to become the violence I was forced to inflict. I chose to let it make its home inside me.”
The stubbled lines around his mouth tensing, Hyland lifts a big paw to smooth hair from my face. Several chunks have fallen out of the braid after sparring all morning.
“Fine… You’re evil. You win.”
“That’s not funny.” I glare at him.
“My point is that what you do now is your choice. For the record, I think choosing to work for Sabre is brave. Regardless of the shit I give you for it.”
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said for a while.” I laugh under my breath.
“I give everyone a hard time, Em. It’s only the people I care about who get to see why I’m like this. And why I care so bloody much.”
“The more you care, the more of an ass you become?”
A smile unfurls on his mouth. “Something like that.”
“Then you must really care about me.”
“Perhaps I do.”
The sound of the air-conditioning system whirring is the only distraction to our moment. Crouched in the ring, the limited air between us feels charged, laden with the possibility of something unknown.
It’s the same feeling that crawls under my skin when Axel cracks a joke that makes me laugh so hard, I can barely breathe. Or when Warner sends me hurtling back to a safe, uncomplicated time in my life with a caring smile alone.
Inching my head closer to his, I relish in the torment of Hyland’s breath whispering over my skin. Weeks’ worth of loaded looks and gruff, reluctant smiles have built a tension inside me that I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge before.
Then Axel happened.
That tension fucking exploded .
The smooth-talking jokester showed me that I can have what I want again. That I have the freedom to take it. The ability to choose for myself. Whether it’s right or wrong, my body is begging for something from Hyland too.
“If training to meet this stupid deadline is what you want, then I’ll help you.” He closes the weapons case. “I’ll give you whatever you need to face these demons.”
“You will?”
“For you.” He nods. “I want you to have your proof. I want… Goddammit, Em. I want you to see yourself like I do.”
The screaming organ trapped behind my breastbone skips straight over its next beat and launches into a full-blown gallop. His hushed, borderline-secretive words ignite a flame inside my core.
My hand inches across the firm sponge mat, snaking ever closer to his. When our fingertips brush, heat erupts at the faintest graze of his skin on mine.
One stroke is enough to send me into the deep end of my greedy desires. My lungs have seized and feel heavier than a lead balloon. I’m running through the infinite forest that lies within his gaze and wilfully losing myself.
“What do you see?” My breathing grows short.
“Didn’t we have this conversation not so long ago?”
“I want to know if your answer has changed.”
Hyland scrutinises my face. “It hasn’t changed.”
Irrational longing envelopes me, urging me to take what I want with no regard for the consequences. Never mind the complication that my stolen time with Axel may cause.
Starved of all free will and affection, a gaping cavern developed inside me. That excruciatingly empty space is now aching to be filled with all I’ve missed out on.
Hyland’s index finger lifts to skate over the back of my palm, slowly caressing me. It’s perhaps the most innocent touch I’ve ever received, but it still feels like being hit with a lightning bolt.
“Red,” he grates out.
My teeth sink into my lip, holding back every last traitorous syllable I want to throw out.
“We should head downstairs.”
No, I’m desperate to scream.
“When I let people get close…” Hyland audibly swallows. “It only ends in hurt.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m already hurt.”
“So what? You want me to add to the shit you’ve already suffered?”
My hand clenches over his, squeezing his rough skin. “You don’t hurt people, Hyland. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough to say that you’re one of the kindest, most protective people I’ve ever met… Even if that manifests as a miserable, old grouch at times.”
He offers a thin smile at my assessment.
“That’s the opposite of hurting people,” I add.
The tip of his tongue peeks out, moistening his lower lip. That generous pillow, surrounded by blonde scruff and golden skin. God, I want to bite it. I want to feel it against my mouth.
“All love is hurt, Em.” His finger drags over my prickling skin. “If you stick around long enough for it to become painful.”
When his hand pulls from beneath mine, I’m swamped with disappointment. Just like the near-miss in the elevator. I get achingly close to breaking his defences only for him to withdraw.
No.
He can’t choose for both of us.
Grabbing his wrist, I yank hard to make him look back at me. The ardent intensity of the craving in his eyes steals the limited breath I have left.
“I survived this long by hurting other people and letting them hurt me,” I spell out. “Pain is all I’ve known for the longest time.”
He seems to grit his teeth, like he’s holding something back.
“What does it tell you that I’m willing to join this team, to let people get close to me, knowing I could get hurt all over again?”
“I… don’t know,” Hyland admits.
“Then let me illuminate you. It means I’m choosing this. I’m choosing to trust you. To get close to you. To join this family and this team.”
Still, his firm jaw remains locked tight, keeping himself closed off. He won’t even allow himself to consider his own wants and needs, so I land the killer blow.
“I’m choosing to get hurt if that’s what’s required. You don’t get the right to tell me whether that’s allowed or not.”
Releasing his wrist, I press a chaste kiss to his cheek before standing up. The sudden departure seems to penetrate his overwhelming doubt.
“Ember!” he thunders from behind me.
Walking to the edge of the boxing ring, I look back over my shoulder. He’s still crouched on the mat, frozen and fiercely staring at me.
“There are marks on your neck. Marks that weren’t there before you had dinner with Axel.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away. “And?”
“And… If you tear my family apart, I will truly have nothing left. Do you understand that?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Then why are you playing this game?”
Every shitty answer I could placate him with flashes through my mind, but I won’t lie to him. I’m not that person. I’ve created this mess, and I will own it just as easily.
With a jittering hand, I gesture between us. “Does this feel like a game?”
“This being… us?”
I nod sharply.
“No,” he answers.
Struggling not to squirm under his intense attention, I watch him square his shoulders as if charging into battle.
“This isn’t a game for me, and I don’t think it is for you either.” He studies me intently. “Which begs the question… Why are you doing this?”
“Axel showed me that it’s okay to laugh and smile again. He gives me the space to feel light. Carefree. To feel alive.”
Hyland’s eyes shutter, anticipating a rejection. “I see.”
“And despite how unbearably overprotective and downright infuriating you can be… You make me feel safe. I feel like nothing and nobody can touch me when I’m in your presence.”
“Nobody would dare.” His tenor deepens into a hair-raising growl. “Not while I’m here.”
“Exactly.”
Tiny butterflies of fear take flight behind my ribcage, but I pay them no attention. I want him to understand. No, I need him to understand.
“Do you have any idea how many times I wished I had someone there to protect me? Someone who could save me? Someone capable of making the pain stop?”
His face wrinkling in a look of immense pain, Hyland drops my eyes. “I can imagine.”
“Then perhaps you can begin to understand why it means so much to me now, no matter how much of a hard time I give you. The truth is, I want to feel safe. I want to feel protected.”
When he climbs to his feet, disregarding the weapons box, I press against the ropes at my back. Hyland huffs a short breath then stomps over to me, stopping mere inches away.
My neck protests at the sharp angle it takes to look up at him. Gruff, grumpy, asshole Hyland. The handsome face hiding a hurting heart with so much left to give.
“You’re playing with fire, red. Someone will get hurt.”
Stepping into his space, my sports bra brushes against his torso. “I guess I’m greedy because I don’t care.”
“I don’t have that luxury.”
“Because you won’t allow yourself to have it,” I correct him. “What would it feel like to take exactly what you want for once? Can you imagine it?”
His loaded pause almost convinces me that he’s going to stalk off. Until his hand finds the back of my neck while the other moves to clasp my Lycra-covered waistline.
The forest-green of his eyes has been nearly swallowed whole by impenetrable blackness. If I could throw myself into the depths of his pupils, I doubt I’d be able to crawl out again.
“I don’t have to imagine, Em.”
Euphoria smacks me in the face and nearly knocks me off my feet when his mouth brushes over mine. The featherlight touch screams through my extremities and sets each limb alight with need.
“Just once won’t hurt,” Hyland adds hoarsely.
His lips press on mine again in a more commanding kiss. The kind of kiss that stakes an irreversible claim on a person’s soul. A kiss so hard and demanding that I gasp into his mouth.
Trapping me against his barrel chest with the hand that cups my neck, Hyland’s lips are possessive and firm. He kisses like he’s trying to communicate something through his touch alone.
I pour my confusing emotions into it—my appreciation and desire for him, my need for belonging and the turbulence of being pulled in different directions by the way they all make me feel.
Hands sneaking up the solid lines that carve his chest, I curl my arms around his neck and reach onto my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. Hyland responds in kind, a rumble echoing from his throat.
My tongue glides over the seam of his mouth, offering another vulnerable plea. He relents immediately, allowing me to sweep inside and taste every ounce of desire that fuels his movements.
The thought that I’ve broken this strong, usually unaffected man enough for him to give me this one moment of relief is staggering. He’s relented for me.
Lord fucking forgive me, I want to break his resolve again. Over and over. Smash it apart, collect the pieces, then admire them while he fucks the life out of me.
At the sound of a very loud, very deliberate throat clear, Hyland’s mouth tears from mine like I’ve scalded him. Sheer panic infiltrates his face as he looks over my shoulder at something I can’t see.
“Training is going well, I see.”
Fuck, fuck, triple fucking fuck!
“We’re just heading to the shooting range,” Hyland rushes to explain.
“Sure looks like it.” Warner’s voice is unmistakable, albeit unimpressed. “You’re wanted upstairs. Go.”
Abruptly releasing me, Hyland avoids meeting my eyes as he collects the weapons box and exits the ring. I work on catching my breath before I turn to duck through the ropes after him.
Dread invades my body and makes itself at home when Warner doesn’t move from where he’s leaning in the doorway. He lets Hyland pass without sparing him a glance.
I’ve never quite understood the expression caught red handed until now. Not even when Tom caught me making out with my first boyfriend and promptly threw him out of the house.
As I scurry across the room, hoping Warner will let me escape without confrontation, my cheeks feel like they’re aflame. I didn’t mind toying with Axel or Hyland. But Warner? That’s a whole other ball game.
“Not you.” His arm shoots out to block the exit.
Internally wincing, I halt in front of him. “Um...”
“Enjoying yourself?”
“It isn’t what it looks like.”
“What does it look like, Em?” He inclines his head.
“We… uh, we’re training. Going over weapons. Hand to hand combat.”
“What sort of combat requires sticking your tongue down my agent’s throat?”
When the ground doesn’t open to swallow me up like I’m praying it will, Warner steps closer to me. I’ve never been afraid of my brother’s best friend before. Now I’m fucking petrified.
“We don’t fuck around in this family.” His low, threatening tone makes my stomach lurch. “So be careful where you put those lips, or you may get more than you bargained for.”
My shocked brain nearly implodes, unable to fathom his words. This feels like a loaded threat. Perhaps far beyond merely kicking me off the team.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I squeak.
“Good. Now get out of here.”
Nodding with my gaze still lowered, I dart past him to flee the room without looking back. If I do, I’m not sure what I’ll find written on his face—resentment or rejection.
I can’t handle either.
Not from him.