20. Axel
AXEL
CHALK OUTLINES – REN & CHINCHILLA
Not a single traffic law can stop me from laying a lead foot on the accelerator, blasting us past countless pedestrians and red lights. Blaring horns don’t penetrate my terror. Nor does the madness we’re causing across Central London.
Screw them all.
My knuckles are stark-white on the steering wheel, making my ink stand out even more than it usually does. I’m surprised that I have the focus to drive at all. Warner certainly doesn’t as he actively works on tearing his fucking hair out.
“Who’s securing the crime scene?” he bellows into his phone.
Muffled voices respond, causing him to curse.
“Sabre Security is taking jurisdiction. We’ll have the Falcon Team on-site in eight minutes.”
More audible protests follow.
“Tell the superintendent to fuck himself for all I care. This was an attack on our people! Seal off the scene, or I’ll have you fired.”
When he hangs up, Warner smashes his clenched fist down on the dashboard and lets out an eye-watering string of expletives. Somehow, his phone doesn’t break as he slams the offending article into the centre console.
“Those idiots couldn’t investigate an RTC if their lives depended on it. Let alone an outright hit on two members of our goddamn team!”
“Hospital is four minutes out,” I mutter back.
“Shit.” He looks over his shoulder into the backseat. “Madden, call the directors. Get the Falcon Team sent to Mile End immediately. I’m not having some junkyard police recruits messing this up.”
“Me?” Blaine squarks.
“Yes, you! I can’t think straight right now.”
“I don’t exactly have their contact numbers,” he replies.
“Then use my damn phone! Fuck!”
Warner tosses it over his shoulder, barely able to retrieve the discarded device without losing his shit. If I wasn’t responsible for getting us all to the emergency department, I’d be shaking like a leaf too.
“Broad daylight.” I spit the words in disbelief. “Gael attacked them in broad fucking daylight! And in public, no less. He’s unhinged.”
“He’s desperate and out of cards to play.” Warner strains against his seatbelt, jittering from head to toe. “The medic said they were both found alive. Ember’s conscious too.”
“Thank fuck.” Blaine releases a loud exhale.
“They got lucky. Sounds like the crime scene is a disaster.”
Alive can mean all number of things. The information we received wasn’t exactly reassuring, coming from some hospital worker who called Warner as their emergency contact. But at least Ember was coherent enough to confirm her identity.
All our phones are Sabre-issued and equipped with tracking software, but we had no reason to be following Hyland and Ember this morning. While trawling through classified MI-5 files covering known European criminal rings in HQ, their location was far from our minds.
Last I heard, Ember and Hyland were getting some air after being cooped up in the penthouse for several days. Now we’re violating every traffic regulation known to man to find out exactly how hurt our teammates are and whose head is going to roll for it.
“There are bodies at the crash site.” Warner leans forward, elbows on his knees as he digs his palms into his eyes.
“Says who?” I flinch.
“The DCI in charge of the crime scene. Two, apparently.”
“Motherfucker. What has Gael done?”
“There’s still a bounty on Ember’s head. We never should’ve allowed her out in public. Even with backup and protection.”
“She isn’t our prisoner.” I turn hard, sending us almost sailing on two wheels. “And we both know Ember wouldn’t listen to any of us if we told her she can’t do something.”
In the backseat, Madden mutters an affirmative into Warner’s mobile phone then flings it back up front.
“The terrible twosome are going down there themselves,” he announces.
“Lord help the Metropolitan Police,” Warner mumbles.
“Hudson said they’ll take control and update us later.”
“Fine. Let’s focus on finding Em and Hy.”
East London’s closest hospital comes into view, denoted by glaring emergency department signs. I park up directly outside the Accident and Emergency, my Sabre ID badge at the ready to ward off the security posted outside.
They chunter in disapproval before waving for us to head inside. I follow Warner’s heavy steps, letting Madden bring up the rear. Warner bellows at the receptionist so loud that her cheeks turn pink as she waves us through to the ward.
“Ember Lawson and Hyland Wesson!” Warner doesn’t wait for the two nurses behind the counter to look up at us before he’s shouting at them.
One of them checks the stacks of patient rosters behind the desk, asking a bunch of stupid questions rather than giving us what we want. Patience expired, I rip the clipboard from her hand, causing her to yelp in shock.
“Excuse me! Sir!”
“You’re too slow,” I growl.
“This is highly inappropriate?—”
“Then sue me.”
She huffs, ranting about calling security while I scan the list of occupied bays. Bingo. Twelve and Eighteen. Ignoring the nurses’ chorus of rants, Warner storms inside when I point straight ahead.
The hospital curtain is practically torn off its metal rings, ripped open to reveal the occupied clinical space inside. Perched on the edge of a white bed, Ember stares at the doctor in front of her, holding up several fingers for her to count.
“Em!” Warner lumbers towards her.
She blinks slowly like we’re little more than a mirage. When her muddied gaze lands on me, Ember frowns, the motion pulling the butterfly stitches across a big, swollen cut along her forehead, visible despite a misting of blood.
“Ember.” I stumble in my rush to approach the bed. “Fuck, babe. You scared us to death.”
“You came back.” She slurs a little. “Where did you go?”
“I’m right here, Em. All of us are.”
Warner hovers his hands over her face, pulling short of yanking her into him. I tangle my fingers with hers while Madden loosely clutches her scrape-littered shoulder, exposed by her torn workout tank.
“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Warner drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You terrified us for a second there.”
“A-Accident.” Her stilted words tumble out. “Crash.”
“We know, Em. It’s okay.”
“H-Hyland?”
“He’s okay,” Warner tries to calm her. “You’re both alive.”
“Bleeding… H-He wasn’t waking up.”
All over her arms, shallow grazes and lacerations mark her skin along with a severe case of road rash. She’s already bruised up, her lip fat and head sliced, though it could be a lot worse if the wreckage they left behind is to be believed.
“You.” She gawps at me strangely. “You were there.”
“I’m right here.” I clench her quaking fingers.
“You saved me… then everything went dark.”
Unease settles over me. “Is she okay?”
“And who might you be?” The female doctor demands.
“I’m her emergency contact.” Warner cuts the medic a harsh look. “Your team called us in.”
“Not to barge in here all at once, I’m sure.”
“You know who we are, so spare us the lecture. An update will do.”
The doctor sighs tiredly. “Ember’s taken a bit of a beating, but nothing too serious. She was struck in the head and rendered unconscious. It’s created some lingering confusion.”
“A concussion?” Madden asks.
“Mild, thankfully. I’m sure her regular physician will want to do some scans, given her pre-existing condition to ensure there’s no exacerbation of her symptoms.”
We exchange worried looks. Ember’s in no state to be managing a head injury. Not when she’s already adjusting to life with a long-term condition and trying to find a treatment plan that works for her PTE.
“What about Hyland Wesson?” Warner straightens up.
“Mr Wesson was taken for a CT scan after his head wound was stitched. He briefly regained consciousness upon arrival, but we’re concerned about swelling.”
Shit, he’s lucky to even be alive. From the little information we have, Hyland was the one driving Sabre’s SUV. The same one now burnt to a husk in some East London suburb after being rammed.
“What happened?” I mostly ask myself.
“Bounty,” Ember gasps, her gaze still clouded. “Someone wanted to collect.”
“Not Gael?” Warner questions.
She licks her split lip then cringes. “No. Hit and run. He tried to k-kill me, but… Axel…”
“Yeah, babe?” I perk up.
Staring at her, Ember continues to frown right back at me. If anyone’s left alive after that wreck, I’ll kill them myself. I hate seeing her all muddled like this.
“Axel saved me,” she finishes hoarsely.
Warner crouches to meet her eyes. “Axel was with us at HQ when we got the call. You went jogging with Hyland this morning.”
Blood-caked eyebrows furrowed in a perplexed look, she doesn’t seem to comprehend Warner’s words. Her groggy attention remains fixed on me.
“What h-happened to your tattoos?” she croaks.
“What do you mean?” I suck in a breath.
“Your hair… the same… the tattoos. They vanished. Where were you?”
“She isn’t making any sense.” Warner drags a hand over his paling face. “We need to call her specialist in ASAP. Get his medical opinion.”
“I can make the call,” the doctor offers.
“Please. It’s Doctor Fawn at St Thomas’s in Westminster.”
“You hit me,” Ember mumbles in a rush.
“Em?” I ask nervously.
“You… Why? Why did you do that?”
The strange sensation crawling all over me could be confusion. It could be fear. Or simply emotional exhaustion at the sudden loss of adrenaline now that we know they’re both relatively intact.
I’d be lying to myself if I believed any of that crap, though. Ember may be concussed, but even injured, she’s always known her own mind. The alarm bells firing inside my skull point in one very real direction.
“No,” she moans. “You have tattoos now. D-Different.”
“My… tattoos?” I repeat.
Ember blinks again, blue-grey irises swimming with moisture. “They were gone. B-But you looked the same.”
“Where, Em? Where did you see me?”
“No… no. Not right… Something… Something else. Different name.”
Her rambles descend into unintelligible noises, but I’ve picked up enough to feel sick.