20. Ember
CHAPTER 20
EMBER
BURN THE MONEY – YOUNG LIONS
Clustered on the ground floor of an empty office building, I linger at the back of the group of black-clad operatives. It’s controlled chaos as weapons, bulletproof vests and instructions are handed out.
At the heart of the wild scene, Warner barks orders at each Sabre agent gathered around him. With the Anaconda Team and the Falcon Team—including Archer and his teammates, Josh, Kyle and Oscar—we’re a decent-sized group.
“We have ten minutes until we estimate the meeting will end,” he calls over the murmured conversations. “Let’s go over this one more time.”
When platinum-blonde haired Oscar fails to fall silent, Warner shoots him a cold look. This Warner’s a far cry from the man who held me tight not so long ago.
It’s odd to see him in his element. He’s worked for Sabre long enough for me to know he’s good at what he does, but reconciling this strict disciplinarian with the gentle man I know is tough.
“Sorry,” Oscar mutters.
“This is your first real raid, Falcon Team. Pay attention, and don’t fuck this up. You don’t want to piss off the bosses.”
There’s a chorus of nervous laughter.
“Believe me,” Warner continues in good humour. “It isn’t pretty when you do.”
While I have yet to meet the infamous Knight brothers or the family I’ve heard gossiped about so many times, their reputation precedes them. Sabre’s directors are equally respected and feared.
After looking at each of his team members to ensure they feel the gravity of Warner’s words, Archer defers to him with a nod. Since I beat his ass, he’s taken to taunting me about a rematch. Though never in front of his team.
“You will be around the back, covering the rear exits.” Warner’s gaze lands on each man. “I want all escape points blocked.”
The younger-looking Falcon member, Josh, awkwardly sticks his hand up. “Are we apprehending or… uh, shooting to kill?”
“Jesus.” Archer runs a hand over his exasperated face. “Did you idiots forget all of your training?”
“We only shoot to kill if there is no other choice.” Warner frowns at Josh. “You know that. Use of force is permitted when your life is at risk.”
With a nod, Josh lowers his hand.
“Hyland, Axel, Ember and I will make up the advance party,” he explains, hands clasped behind his back. “We will be covering the front entrance to catch attendees off guard when they leave.”
“How many are we anticipating?” Kyle asks in a gruff timbre.
“I counted approximately fifteen assailants entering the meeting,” Axel answers him. “Fewer numbers than before. Some are missing.”
“Why?” I speak up.
Looking back at me, Axel shrugs. “Unclear.”
The thought that we won’t catch all of Gael’s honeypots tonight, and some may be left to disappear, sets my teeth on edge. Word will soon spread. The cartel will know we’re gunning for them after we do this.
Tonight could be our one and only shot to gain an advantage over Gael and the intricate web that feeds his business model. We can’t reach him, but we can reach those who prop up his enterprise.
“Our priority is Blaine Madden and his three associates—two male, one female.” Hyland folds his bulging arms. “We need them taken alive.”
Distracting myself by checking my dark cargo trousers, bulletproof vest and attached gun holster, I try to ignore the weight of his gaze on me.
They all seem hyper-aware of the fact that Blaine is here. Sure, I’m hyper-fucking-aware of that fact too. He’s half the reason I’m here.
I want to look that snake in the eye and demand to know what his game plan is and how he knows Gael. What I don’t appreciate is being treated like Blaine is some kind of sore spot for me.
He showed his true colours. Communication was cut. End of story. I don’t care about him or his crew. I’ll be professional tonight and ensure he’s in cuffs.
“We have a few agents on standby at the rendezvous point three blocks over,” Warner continues explaining. “Should you need to, you can call for backup. No injuries tonight, please.”
“Only theirs.” Axel cracks his knuckles, flexing dark swirls of ink. “The fatal force rule doesn’t apply to me, right?”
Everyone gapes at him like he’s joking. Only the punchline never comes. It rarely does with Axel.
“What?” He glowers back.
“Yes.” Warner wearily rubs his jaw. “It does apply to you. Perhaps even more so.”
“Hang on, I didn’t sign up to dance with these motherfuckers. You can take some alive, but I reserve the right to break a few skulls tonight.”
“He has a point,” Kyle mumbles.
Shooting a thumb’s up at his co-conspirator, Axel smirks at me. I wink in return. We need some of them alive, but if he wants to crack a few skulls, I can think of no one more deserving than these operatives.
“Enough!” Warner snaps. “Everyone in position, prepared to advance.”
All making agreeing sounds, we fan out into two separate groups. Archer exchanges a few words with Hyland before leading his team from the building to find their place outside.
Tailbone still propped against the white wall, I watch my three teammates confer. I didn’t sleep a wink last night in anticipation of the raid. Coupled with my recent symptoms, this feels like a shitty idea.
But after spending all these weeks working tirelessly to be ready for this exact moment, I’m not going to admit defeat that easily. I’ve fought under worse conditions. I just need to focus and hunt down Blaine.
A spasm in my hand causes me to look down at my contorted fingers, twitching and jerking tellingly. I quickly curl them into a fist before anyone can notice.
Not now. Not now.
Wandering over to me, Warner summons a smile. “Ember? You ready?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
“You’ve got this. Just keep calm.”
“Yes, boss.”
I feel far too vulnerable to meet his eyes. Not after the state he saw me in a couple of days ago. He’s checked in regularly since my breakdown, ensuring I’m up for my first mission.
As sweet as it is, his fussing only reminds me of the utterly broken state he found me in that day. I never want anyone to see me like that. Even if I allowed him to in a moment of weakness.
“Remember to follow our lead, stay alert and watch your back.” His hand is a warm on my lower back as we walk towards Axel and Hyland. “We’re going to get to Madden while the others take care of the spineless fucks who’ll inevitably flee.”
“He won’t go down without a fight.”
“I’m counting on it.” Warner’s hand leaves my back to rest over the pistol tucked into his hip holster. “I’d like to have a word with that cunt.”
“Wait your turn,” Axel throws at him.
“Like you’ll even get a chance, pup,” Hyland scoffs. “He’s mine.”
“Enough dick measuring,” Warner snarls at them. “We’ve got enough of that going on with these other fools as our backup.”
“Learned behaviour,” I point out.
When both Hyland and Axel look at me in mock-outrage, I smile broadly back. Being the only female in this all-male, testosterone-filled environment doesn’t bother me. If anything, I enjoy being the one to tear them down.
“Can girls dick measure?” Axel pouts pathetically. “Because it sure feels like you are.”
“I wouldn’t need to, Ax. I’m obviously far more well-endowed than you are.”
“Don’t encourage them, Em,” Warner pleads.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”
Walking past Axel to prepare to leave, I smack my hand against his when he offers me a high-five. Only the lovable psycho himself would take my insult as reason to applaud me.
With Warner and Hyland taking the lead and Axel moving to the rear so I’m sandwiched between them, we exit the office block to head for the warehouses located in the distance.
This is a quiet, industrial suburb with little to no pedestrians. The location of the meet isn’t far, so within a few minutes of walking, the derelict structure comes into sight.
“We want them out in the open,” Warner murmurs, his attention fixed on the front entrance. “I’m not having any of us set foot in that booby trap.”
“Booby trap?” Axel repeats. “This isn’t Scooby Doo.”
“You wanna go in there? These dickheads don’t mess around, Ax. You’ll be walking into a death trap.”
“I could take them,” he declares confidently.
“Be still, and shut up, pup.” Hyland tightens the strap on the extra-large vest that covers his long-sleeved tee. “You’re giving me a migraine.”
“I haven’t succeeded yet? Damn. I need to up my game.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
All crouching behind a brick half-wall that sections off the warehouse’s deserted car park, we bide our time. Warner checks in with Archer via his earpiece while we ensure ours are all connected.
“Come in.” Axel puts on a posh announcer’s voice. “Testing, testing. Ow!”
Lowering the paw that’s smacked into Axel’s head, Hyland spits a choice curse at him. Honestly, if I didn’t already have a headache threatening to take me out, their antics would give me one.
“I can see movement inside on my scope.” Kyle’s voice whispers into my ear. “Seems like an impending exit.”
“Copy that,” Warner acknowledges.
A shoulder nudges into mine as Hyland sends me a stern nod. “This is it.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“You can still sit this out.”
“Not a chance, Hy. I’ve trained for this.”
He flourishes a proud half-grin. “Just testing you. I’m gonna be right behind you watching you take their asses down.”
“Just here for the show, huh?” I tease him.
Reaching for his gun, Hyland checks the magazine one last time then replaces it. “Damn straight.”
“And here I was thinking you’d be my partner in crime tonight.”
Ignoring the others nestled close by and inevitably listening to us, Hyland stares deep into my eyes. His olive-toned spheres brim with pride, making my heart patter even harder.
“I’ll be the fuel to your fire, red. Just tell me who you want to burn first.”
My mouth twists into a smile just for him.
“Blaine Madden and his crew.”
“Deal. We’ll give them hell.”
Treacle-like pleasure slicks down my spine at the dangerous spark in his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“I see doors opening,” Warner announces. “Let’s roll.”
Creeping along the half-wall, we circle towards the side of the dilapidated warehouse so we can catch their backs while exiting the meeting. Sure enough, two conversing men have walked outside.
“No one exiting at the rear yet.” Archer’s update comes through our comms. “We’re in place for any runners.”
Raising his balled-up fist, Warner gestures for us to hold position. His entire focus is locked on those swinging, dented doors. We need to wait for everyone to clear before we move in on them.
Through my wavering vision, I squint hard to keep the doors in focus. Waiting for Blaine Madden to show his stupidly handsome, scarred face. I’m going to cave it in for making me feel foolish.
What I’m not prepared for is the slow gait of a tall, well-dressed man who emerges, deep in conversation with three others in rapid, exotic Spanish. The familiar mug of the guard at his back makes my innards contract.
“Oh my God,” I blurt.
Immediately, Warner spins towards me. “What is it?”
Words fail to surface as the four men light up cigarettes, completely brazen in the open air despite being in our territory. Thinking their power still protects them. Just as much as their money does.
Not for much longer.
I couldn’t hurt them last time. No more than I did before they drugged, sold and shipped me off to the highest bidder. Now I have the chance to inflict an ounce of that pain on them.
Disregarding the plan, I ready myself to launch at none other than Luis—the man who sold me to Gael—and his disgusting lackey, Diego. He survived that shot to the leg after all.
“Forget Madden,” I rush out. “Get them! Now!”
“Ember, wait!”
“No time!”
Warner’s shouting registers, but all I can focus on is the roaring of fast-moving blood in my ears, demanding that I lay hands on the man who set me up to endure such depravity before my body fails me.
I’m going to destroy every last joint, bone, ligament and fucking tendon in his body. One by one. Alphabetically. Numerically. I don’t give a shit—as long as he tells me who he sold Gracie to.
Giving the rest of my team no choice but to follow, I execute the approach we planned, moving fast alongside the warehouse’s exterior. Smoking, the four men are now sharing laughter with the other two who first emerged.
At the sound of our rapid approach, one of them startles. Miguel, I think. I recognise his sneering, rat-like features from our time in the cages. His eyes widen when he spots me barrelling towards them.
“ Mierda !”
I drop to the ground and propel myself towards his exposed legs before he can draw his weapon on me. My outstretched foot connects with his ankle, causing him to catapult towards the ground.
Miguel lands hard on his side, head smacking against cracked concrete. I have long enough to look up into Luis’s surprised eyes as he watches me take out one of his men.
Before he can react, Luis is side-tackled by a growling Hyland running full-speed into him. In his element, he resembles an angry boulder rolling over a trapped animal.
“Fucking bitch!”
Scrabbling to reach me, Miguel gets hold of my leg and yanks. I’m dragged towards him close enough to receive the punch he haphazardly throws. It brushes my jaw, barely making contact.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I cackle desperately.
Spitting an insult, Miguel wails another foreign curse when I whip out my other leg to kick him in the face. He’s thrown off balance, blood spurting from his mouth.
Without hesitating, I tackle his slumped form to continue landing blows. Smack. Smack. Smack. I need to take this motherfucker out so I can get to those who really matter.
Luis and Diego.
They’re mine.
My knuckles burn and crack with each blow I levy against Miguel, caught flat on his back and too disorientated to put up much of a fight. When the back of his head whacks the ground again, I watch the light in his eyes wink out.
“Stay down,” I spit at him.
The sense of euphoria from knocking him out is fleeting. Looking around, I find that a few others have emerged from the warehouse to join the fight. Hyland and Luis are locked in a violent battle of fists while Axel and Warner pick off incoming thugs, one by one.
Panic takes root at the realisation that Diego has vanished. I haven’t laid eyes on Madden or his crew yet either. I resolve to deal with the consequences of their bullshit no force rule and start taking people out.
“768! You made it!”
A lilting voice hollers from behind me.
“Over here, 768! Yoo-hoo!”
Lifting onto my feet, I boot Miguel’s unconscious body in the stomach for good measure before looking over my shoulder. My bloodstream freezes into an arctic dagger that buries in my gut.
“You still alive?” I shout back.
Hand resting on the weapon tucked into the front of his jeans, Diego sneers at me. “Last I checked.”
“Too bad. I was hoping I’d caught an artery.”
“Hope you’re a better shot now than you were six years ago, puta !”
With a sick grin, Diego turns and darts around the side of the warehouse. He’s gone faster than I can draw my weapon to take him out. I know it’s a trap, but I don’t care all that much.
This time, he’s mine.
Without glancing at the others, still knee-deep in the rush of assailants, I chase after Diego. Like hell am I going to let him escape. I want his boss, but I also want him.
As he vanishes out of sight, memories of the last time we faced each other fill my mind, piercing the woozy fog that’s gradually worsening.
With Gracie’s sobs still ringing in my ears, dim light guides me into the overgrowth that creeps up the exterior of the abandoned husk. All manner of litter, detritus and smashed glass pepper the long grass.
“Come get me, 768!” Diego’s voice echoes.
That same voice haunted so many of the bleak days we spent trapped behind rusted bars, stomachs screaming for sustenance and bodies blue from hypothermia.
For Gracie. For myself. For every single woman left to rot in that hell. I don’t care if I die trying—I’m going to make this motherfucker bleed for what he’s done.
“I know where your bitch friend is!” he adds with a hyena-like laugh. “Do you want to know?”
Steps growing wobblier and more unstable, a loud ringing fills my ears. Shit, I can feel myself fading. Still giving chase, I push past the exhaustion sapping my strength.
Not now. Not now!
My limbs are now jerking, growing heavy under the strain of crashing adrenaline. I have to reach him before my body pulls the plug. This may be my only chance.
Pushing past every last warning sign telling me to stop, turn back and find a safe spot to collapse in, I refuse to let Diego get away. I can’t see him or take aim, but he can’t be far ahead.
“Though she’s probably dead and gone by now!”
“I’m going to kill you!” I screech back.
“Come and try, whore!”
Towering weeds and shrubbery cut me as I tear through the wilderness, keeping the warehouse on my left. The thick overgrowth thins out a little ahead, revealing what looks like an outdoor smoking area.
Hunched over as he pants for air, Diego watches me emerge into the evening din. The sounds of the fight unfolding behind us have lessened, enveloping our showdown in anticipatory silence.
The entire world is wavering now as alarm bells howl through every sense. Head-splitting pain has grown into a raging firestorm that feels strong enough to break bone.
Not now. Not now.
Diego is mere steps away from me. The man who helped to ensure my suffering is within touching distance, and I refuse to let him walk away free.
“You know, I heard rumours about what Gael turned you into.” He straightens, still smiling like a lunatic. “But I didn’t quite believe it.”
“You sold me!”
“We saved you.” He snorts.
“This isn’t what being saved looks like.”
“You think anyone else would’ve given you the chance to fight? To avoid your tight little cunt being passed around like an ashtray? You should be glad we let Gael take you.”
“Is that what happened to Gracie?” I roar back.
His laughter causes my rage to expand until I think I might burst into icy, hate-filled chunks. All I can hear, see or conceive of is his disgusting chuckling.
“You know, I don’t even remember who bought the screaming virgin.” He winks at me like this is all a big joke. “I have no idea where she is now.”
The sight of his smarmy grin is broken by flashes of light streaking across my vision. Rapidly spreading spots erupt like neon fireworks painted onto my eyeballs.
Wobbling on my feet, I quickly draw my gun while I can still use it. “I don’t believe you!”
“It’s the truth, 768. She could be anywhere. Dead. Alive. I don’t know or care.”
Terror seeps into my bones and joints, weakening my stance further. My knees are sagging, promising to take me down. Clicking off the safety, I shakily aim my pistol at him.
“Last chance. Tell me the truth.”
He doesn’t even flinch.
“She’s gone. You’ll never find her.”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not.” He chuckles darkly. “But that doesn’t matter. We’re here for you. I’m going to enjoy the reward Gael will pay for the return of his precious champion.”
With a feral scream, I fire off a shot. The bullet soars straight past Diego without making an impact, thrown off course by the continued jerking of my failing limbs.
“I’m here, 768!” He waves his arms, taunting me.
“Goddamn you!”
Another two quick shots fail to take the son of a bitch down. I want to attempt a fourth, but somewhere internally, a plug is yanked out. All of my waning energy instantly drains away. The gun falls from my unresponsive hands.
My spasming legs quickly give out. Knees cracking against the old pavement, an anguished shriek lodges in my throat, cut short by my clenching muscles. Everything pulls taut and stiff.
The bright strobes have intensified, blurring darkness into breathtakingly white nothingness. My vision cuts in and out, offering snapshots of Diego casually strolling towards me.
“What’s this?” He leers down at me. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
As much as I want to yell, shout and rave back at him, not a single word can escape. Only guttural whimpering that seems to satisfy my opponent as I collapse in a locked-up heap, chin wet from leaking spittle.
Moving into a crouch, Diego watches me shudder and involuntarily convulse, imprisoned by my own malfunctioning body. His confusion fails to rival his delight at watching me suffer.
“Gael really fucked you up, didn’t he?” Diego’s lips curl downwards. “This is a sorry sight.”
When the flashing white strobes give way to encroaching blackness, I know I’m in deep shit. All I can hope is that someone heard the gunshots. I’m not going to be conscious for much longer.
“You’re so weak, 768. Pathetic.”
Convulsions sweep through my extremities, straining muscles and tendons. Pain becomes an acute force, holding me in the cruelty of consciousness as a black out races closer. All I can do is gag on my own saliva.
I can’t feel Diego’s hands on my body when he straddles himself above me in a position of supreme power. Trapped in my own skin, I silently choke on my terror, infused in the moisture that fills my mouth.
“Does he know that his product is damaged?” Diego wonders aloud. “Perhaps he won’t mind if I deliver you in pieces instead. Maybe I’ll ruin that cunt of yours first.”
My vision dims and sputters. The darkness overwhelms me, receding in a hateful taunt for split-seconds until it rises once more. Every time the world comes back into focus, I see him.
Laughing. Relishing in my paralysis.
His twisted face inching ever closer.
When the next wave washes over me, I let the shadows swallow me whole. In the darkness comes relief in the form of defeat. I don’t have to see Diego here. I don’t have to think about what he’s doing.
Open your eyes, Ember!
Fight back!
The tear-stained face yelling at me is young. Bruised. Familiar. She’s shouting so loud, but I can’t figure out why. Who is she? How does she know my name?
Get up! Now!
Wait. It’s… Gracie. I know her voice. The sound of her pleading. I want to reach out and swipe her tears aside, but there’s nothing around me but an empty, black void.
Fight for me, Ember!
Fight!
Her wails hit like a direct defibrillation to the heart. The darkness shudders and splits wide open, filling with flashes of blinding light. Agony infects every nerve ending and skin cell.
When the light fades enough for me to blink through great, murky tides, I see dark sky. Emerging stars bursting forth through beautifully stormy clouds. A nearby building’s roof.
The haze parts enough to reveal someone looming over me. Face blurred. Hair swimming with each woozy wave that hits. Two soulful black pits emerge through the confusing obscurity.
My tongue feels like an oversized lump of dead skin in my mouth, refusing to move or carve out a single syllable. I can’t find my limbs through the steadily increasing pain that scurries through me with each sharp breath.
Then the black pits vanish. Eaten by blinking lids and fascinatingly curled lashes. Oh, they’re eyes. I’m staring into onyx orbs, sparkling with a midnight sheen.
“Easy. Don’t try to move.”
That voice.
“You’re okay. Just breathe now.”
The aristocratic drawl slicks over my still-shuddering body, burrows inside my cavities and finds a new home in the hollowed-out carcass of my skeleton.
Looking past the black eyes that seem to drink me in, dark stubble, carved cheekbones and a twisted scar are all obscured. Each identifying feature is covered in brilliant-red splats.
Blood.
He’s covered in blood.
It’s everywhere.
“Miss me, sweetheart?” my captor croons. “You didn’t have to pull this dramatic crap just to get my attention.”
The smell of crushed peppercorns and citrus-sharp bergamot offers undeniable proof that I’m awake. From what exactly, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know why I’m sprawled out or how long I’ve been out for.
I’m cradled in a pair of wiry arms while blood-speckled fingertips stroke over my face, easing the ache that emanates from my clenched teeth.
I’m being soothed. Comforted. Protected.
By Blaine motherfucking Madden.