4. Ember #2
“Want me to take the trash back out?” Spyder offers.
“No, stand down.” Blaine shakes his head in denial. “Our friends may be rude beyond belief, but for once, we’re on the same side.”
The sound of another nearby scream punctuates his words. We all collectively stiffen while Blaine’s lascivious smile widens.
“Care to follow me?”
Pushing off the arm that Hyland attempts to block me with, I cut him a glower then follow behind Blaine. We’re led through the empty workbenches, pockmarked with telltale scars, out towards a storeroom. Only it isn’t boxes or crates being stashed inside.
“One more chance,” someone yells. “Where is Luis?”
Oh, hell. Axel.
The ultimatum is levied with a firm strike, causing blood to erupt from the asshole’s busted nose. Stained metal attached to Axel’s knuckles glints beneath the dim-orange lighting. My lips part on a gasp when he delivers another blow.
“You won’t take Antonio Gael’s secrets to the grave,” Axel warns in a light, teasing voice. “There’s much more we can do while you’re still alive.”
“F-F-Fuck you!”
“I’ll pass. You’re not my type.”
It’s hard to make out the middle-aged man he’s systematically beating with blood-slick knuckledusters. Nor do I recognise the three others, all cuffed and bound on their individual wooden chairs, sporting varying degrees of injuries and consciousness.
“Madden?” Warner motions to the half-dead looking men. “Explain.”
“What did you call them before?” Blaine taps his chin. “Honeypots?”
Every inch of me clenches tight in anticipation. We pumped Luis’s men for information after the raid, including Miguel, before tossing them into cells to await prosecution. But these guys? They’re fresh meat. Brand-new players.
“How?” I rasp.
With a self-assured wink, Blaine gestures for everyone to enter the room. “I have my ways.”
“Who are they?” Warner inches inside.
“Old employees of my father. Men he used behind my back to fuel his trafficking enterprise. Their allegiances soon shifted when his empire collapsed. All four of them freelance now.”
“For Gael?” Hyland asks.
“Among other players.” Blaine tilts his head towards the man being tortured. “I believe Sabre’s been searching for this one in connection with the Sanchez case for several years now.”
It’s hard not to clock Hyland’s visceral reaction—an almost full body recoil at that name. Then he tucks his gun into his waistband and heads to Axel’s side to inspect the captive’s red-stained face.
“I’ll be damned.” He crouches to get a closer look. “Dominic Pit. We’ve had a warrant for your arrest since everything went down in Briar Valley.”
With a grunt, the man spits blood in our direction. “I don’t know anything.”
“Now, I highly doubt that. You’ve been at the top of our shit list for years.”
“Then consider his safe delivery a peace offering from me.” Blaine’s tongue flicks out to nudge his lip piercing. “You’re welcome.”
Warner huffs. “How magnanimous of you.”
“I’m a generous man. I hope this will earn me your allegiance.”
“How did you even find him?” Hyland questions mistrustfully. “He’s a wanted man. We thought he’d fled the country.”
“I told you before.” Blaine shrugs with his Cheshire Cat grin. “You need me. I have resources that go beyond Sabre’s legal scope. This is merely a demonstration.”
Warner’s hands fist at his sides. “So why the cloak and dagger, Madden?”
“We’ve been tracing shipments heading overseas for close to a year now,” he reveals. “Not just heading into Mexico and South America but Europe too. It’s a wide-scale market.”
With each word, the nausea pulling at my innards grows exponentially. I’m no fool—I know this particular brand of evil is international. But hearing that the same mechanism I found myself trapped in facilitates trafficking on a global scale is stomach-turning.
How many more of us are there?
“I have a connection in an underground smuggling circuit. They informed me of Dominic’s return to England.” Blaine folds his vein-studded arms. “He’s been on our watchlist for some time.”
“What kind of connection?” Warner presses.
“Irrelevant.”
“Nothing is irrelevant. You should’ve told us about this.”
“Lead your investigation, and I’ll lead mine. Isn’t that the deal?”
“No!” Warner blusters, briefly losing his cool head. “It’s not the deal. We have to communicate.”
“Frankly, you won’t agree with my methods. The less you know, the better.”
“You’re operating under our jurisdiction now,” Warner snarls. “That means we don’t have the luxury of secrets. You can’t play these games anymore.”
“My games yield results. You should be grateful.”
“I should?—”
“Why?” I butt into their debate.
Blaine’s dark gaze snaps to me. “Why what?”
“Why trace those illegal shipments instead of helping the innocent people trapped inside? In fact, why do you care about this at all?”
“Because somewhere in this web of competing cartels, international crime families and trafficking rings, my father has sought refuge. He’s the connecting piece to Gael and dozens like him.”
Connecting piece…
Nolan Madden ran a ring of honeypots to perform paid kidnapping jobs for overseas traffickers without Blaine’s knowledge. He propped up a crucial branch of Gael’s business model, and likely countless others’ too.
The rage churning in Blaine’s black irises magnifies as the situation becomes clearer. This tangled web isn’t just holding my brother hostage; for Blaine, it’s his whole world on the line. His family are neck-deep in a global criminal conspiracy that he failed to prevent.
“This dickhead isn’t talking.” Axel flexes his arms while looking at me for the first time. “But he’s here for Gael. He must have Luis’s location.”
Marching over to Axel, Warner grabs his shoulder. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this? We’re your team. Not Madden.”
Axel shrugs him off. “I didn’t know.”
“Then explain this to me!”
“He got the call from whatever shady fuck he’s bribing, and I offered to come help beat some sense into this lot. Don’t doubt my loyalty.”
“Then you should’ve told us about this.” Warner whirls on Blaine next. “You don’t have our trust in the first place, let alone the right to abuse it.”
“You said it yourself,” Blaine replies steadily. “I don’t have your trust. Why on earth would I divulge my plans to you without it?”
The pained groan spilling from their prisoner interrupts the stare off, forcing all our attention to redirect. Dominic Pit has opened his bruised eyes. As I examine him, something tickles the back of my mind, shrouded in ancient clouds of confusion.
There’s something about his eyes. The palest of greys, an odd hue visible even through the bruises and blood. Over the years, countless foot soldiers passed me, belonging to Gael and the men who would come to conduct business in his estate.
My skull throbs when I try to drag the memory to the forefront, wailing in protest. Much of that time is foggy, particularly the years around my head injury. There was no shortage of scumbags from all over the world visiting Gael in his mansion to strike deals or purchase skin.
“You.” My feet carry me towards the unknown man. “Why do I know you?”
Spitting out a thick globule of blood, Dominic spares me a brief look. “Because I know you, 768. I know what you are.”
His head snaps to the side, bone crunching disgustingly under the force of Axel’s punch.
“Don’t call her that. First and final warning.”
“Ax—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “It’s not your name.”
Barely able to open his eyes through the crimson river spilling from a forehead cut, Dominic spits a curse. My mind pulsates, trying to drag disparate puzzle pieces together.
“I do not know where Luis is,” he chokes out. “And I don’t work for Antonio Gael.”
“You just supply him with product to sell, right?” Axel wipes blood from his knuckledusters.
“N-No!”
“Then who?”
“The European market… it’s f-far more lucrative. Gael is old news to us.”
“Then why are you here?”
When he doesn’t respond, Axel lashes out again, cracking his fist into the bastard’s cheek. His howl plunges me deeper into the shadowy past. Enough to set alight violence in my veins.
“Are you here to source new victims?” Axel shouts between punches. “Who are you selling to?”
Watching him work feels akin to chasing a tornado that’s wreaking havoc on each defenceless town caught in its warpath. Axel isn’t just a thug with a badge; he’s a force of nature. One I’m sure Sabre is glad they have on their side.
Dominic’s face resembles a meaty slab. He’s puffing through each swollen, pulpy inch of battered flesh, somehow still holding onto consciousness. I step forward to rest a hand on Axel’s shoulder.
“May I?” I whisper into his ear.
An enlarged pupil flicks up to me, swallowing the burnt-orange hue all around it.
“Be my guest.”
Axel moves aside to let me take his place in front of Dominic’s sorry state. I don’t look back to see if the others are protesting his decision to let me take over.
“Come to p-pop a shot?” Dominic coughs up blood.
“Something like that. How do you know my name?”
“Everyone knows y-you, 768.”
This time, I slam my fist into his jaw. “You heard him. Don’t call me that.”
Red spittle flies upwards from where his head is flung back, spraying all around in a crimson geyser. It doesn’t elicit a speck of sympathy inside me.
“Answer the question, or I’ll let my friend here continue toying with you. He has more patience for torture than I do.”
“Nolan… M-Madden!” he screams when I pull back my arm.
Blaine curses nearby. “Bingo.”
My fist lowers, fresh blood soaking into the scabs that have formed over my grazes. “Elaborate.”
“He h-had us making connections with anyone in the market to m-make a purchase. Gael. Sanchez. All their f-friends across the globe. We worked f-for anyone.”
Limbs filling with angry wasps, rage spreads like wildfire. “That’s how we met.”
“Barely.” Dominic sucks in through a coughing fit. “Though I w-watched Gael bend your s-sweet ass over and slice your back up real n-nice with a whip.”
Noxious sickness is roiling inside me when Axel shoves past me to launch a fresh attack. Any pleasure he was finding in playing with his prey evaporates as a bone-breaking beating takes centre stage.
The sound of Axel’s fists hitting his flesh adds to the pain splitting my skull, a flimsy barricade barely holding back memories of the past. Worse still, it’s impossible for me to say when or where I met this asshole. Gael beat me regularly enough for each occasion to blur in my memories.
Turning away from the violence, I breathe through the phantom pain of my skin being slashed all over again. I can’t bear to meet anyone’s gaze. Not when they’re imagining what it took to scar my back.
“Sick fuck.” Hyland doesn’t take his eyes off the beating. “Though I’d expect nothing else from someone working for the likes of Gael, Madden or Sanchez.”
“Who is this Sanchez?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Emotion contorts Warner’s face as he moves closer to me, stopping short of reaching out a hand.
“An old foe.”
“What happened?”
“Dimitri Sanchez was the prime target of a trafficking investigation our old team leader led years back. The victim fled to a small town called Briar Valley. She helped us bring his operation down.”
So if Dominic also worked for Sanchez and that piece of shit knew Gael… it’s very possible we’ve missed a crucial link. The messy, ever-changing spider’s web shifts again, pulling us deeper into a conspiracy that, frankly, feels unsolvable.
Too many dark thoughts to sort through compete for my attention. A hatred that burns so hot explodes inside me, leaving me wondering if it will erupt from my skin and scald us all in one vicious lava spill.
Behind it all… the previously unknown figure of evil. Blaine’s father. A man at the centre of a conspiracy that connects our lives. Each of us have a stake in this, from the Sanchez case to Blaine’s vendetta and my own thirst for justice.
“We need his intel.” I lower my hand from where I was rubbing my temples. “Dominic knows where Luis is.”
“Axel,” Hyland drones like it’s an effort.
Smack. Crunch. Crack.
“Ax! Don’t kill the bastard!”
“You heard what he said,” Axel puffs in exertion.
“I did.”
“This piece of shit watched her being tortured!”
“I know, but he’s no use to us dead.”
Looking over my shoulder, I catch the final punch to the kidneys that causes more blood to spill from Dominic’s mouth. Axel begrudgingly eases off, panting hard through a mask of righteous anger.
His eyes briefly flick in my direction, and he cocks a brow. You good?
All I can summon is a shrug.
Warner gestures towards the restrained group. “We’ll transport them back to HQ for further questioning before we hand them over for prosecution. I want an ID on Luis’s location. I don’t care how we get it.”
“Mind if I lend a hand?” Blaine offers.
“You’ve earned that right. Thank you for finding them.”
I’m not the only one who startles at Warner’s sincere thanks. Even Blaine stares at him for a long moment like he’s unsure quite how to react.
“Okay,” he eventually accepts.
“Don’t look so affronted, Madden.”
“More like disturbed.” He smirks in amusement.
When Warner catches my gaze, he offers me the first genuine smile since Tom was taken. I can’t quite find the mental strength to give one back, but I respond with a semi-hopeful nod.
One step closer.
We’re coming, Tom.