3. Ember
EMBER
BEAUTIFUL PAIN - EMINEM & SIA
Scanning over Tom’s worried text messages, I’m thankful the poor signal in the mountains gives me a good enough reason not to respond. He knows we’re safe. I’ll call when we leave town, which if Willow’s husband has any say, won’t be long now.
I can’t say I blame the guy. Peace is a rare commodity and one that has to be guarded at all costs. He doesn’t want to roll the dice on his family’s safety. We wouldn’t be here if any of us didn’t feel the same way about ours.
In a spare bedroom, the late winter sun is shaded by thick curtains, dousing the room in shadows. Axel’s pale face is illuminated by a bedside lamp, revealing the soft, boyish curves I’ve come to know and love, his pallid skin stark against the tattoos that paint his throat.
Doc reassured us he’s stable and doing well, but the bullet that tore through his lower abdomen did considerable damage. He’s lucky not to have lost any major organs. It’ll be a long road to recovery—requiring time which right now, we don’t have.
“Never do that to me again.” I stroke a fingertip over fresh stubble, dark compared to his vivid amethyst locks. “I thought I’d lost you. I know I wouldn’t have survived it.”
The desolate cage that entrapped his still body flashes across my mind again. It’s always there in the periphery, lurking like a predator, primed to strike at any moment. We came so close. Too close.
“You were so still and pale.” My voice wavers, rasping painfully. “Dammit, Ax. I was terrified. I love you so much, and I can’t lose you now.”
The IV bag he’s connected to drips steadily, covering the quiet sound of my sobbing. I have to bow my head to hide in his bedsheets, unable to hold the wave of grief and terror at bay any longer.
It spills out in an ugly, overwhelming torrent that obliterates my self-control. I can almost hear the frayed boundaries in my mind shattering apart. Steep, defensive walls collapse into rubble as all the horrors of the raid barge their way to the forefront.
I’m not sure how long I sit and fall apart for. Soon there’s a hand rhythmically stroking the top of my head, silent but present. Through streaming eyes, I look up and spot Axel’s sleepy, drugged smile.
“I’m not dead yet,” he croaks, the words only slightly slurred.
“Ax! You should be resting. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
Eyes fluttering, Axel groans under his breath. “Maybe a little. Think my pain relief is running low.”
“Shit. Should I get Doc?”
“Nah, I’m done being all doped up. Where the fuck are we?”
After fluffing his pillows a little and double checking the IV line feeding fluids into his forearm, I retake my seat. At least my tears have dried up now that he’s awake.
“Still in Briar Valley, though I don’t know for how much longer. We came here to lie low after returning from the operation in Estonia.”
“That’s right,” he mumbles. “Fuck, I remember now. See? No more drugs.”
“You were shot, Ax. Your body needs to rest and heal.”
“It can do that without being shot full of chemical shit. I need to keep my mind sharp.”
The urge to continue fussing over him is strong, but he captures my hand in a loose grip, prompting me to freeze. I have no choice but to meet his whiskey-rich eyes, the pupils a little blown but surprisingly alert.
“Why were you crying?” Axel asks softly.
“You heard that, huh?”
“I’ve been in and out for a while. I don’t like hearing you in pain, dimples. Least of all because of me.”
“Remember that next time you almost die on me.” My joke falls flatter than a dud pancake.
“It’ll take more than a bullet or a rogue twin brother to kill me. I’m gonna be around to annoy your cute backside until the end of time and into the apocalypse.”
Acidic tears sting my waterline, threatening to spill over again. “I think I’d like that.”
“Then it’s settled. Wanna come here and give me a real cuddle?”
“No! You’re hurt!”
“Only my ego, babe. Come kiss it better.”
If I roll my eyes any harder, they’ll pop right out of my head.
“Fine, but only for a minute.”
He remains still at my insistence, leaving enough room to fold myself up and squeeze against the side of his blanket-clad limbs. I tentatively rest my head on his shoulder, listening for any signs of pain or discomfort.
“This okay?”
“More than okay.” Axel sighs in contentment. “Missed you.”
“I’ve been right here the whole time.”
“I still missed you.”
Beneath the unfamiliar smell of cotton bandages and medical wash, Axel’s signature concoction of masculine, dangerous musk and a sharp note of spice remains. I burrow into that smell, latching onto its familiarity and the levity only his goofy presence can ever provide.
As long as he’s okay, we’ll be alright.
The world hasn’t ripped us apart yet.
Lulled by the steady pounding of his heart rate, I’m not sure how long I nap on his shoulder for. Long enough for the faint light streaming through his curtains to fade, giving way to impenetrable night with no city pollution or streetlights to break the darkness.
When his snoring startles me awake, I lift my head to work the kinks out of my neck. We’re no longer alone. Warner rests in the antique armchair pulled up to the bedside, dressed in a scruffy tee and sweats rolled up to his exposed residual limb.
“Hi.” I yawn groggily.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“What time is it?”
“Late, I didn’t want to wake either of you. It looked too peaceful.”
“I think I must’ve needed the rest.”
“We all do.” He absently massages where his leg ends in a smooth, discoloured stump. “Killian’s backed off for now. We can stay a few more days, but this is temporary. He made that pretty clear.”
“I can’t say I blame him. We’re a walking liability.”
“I suppose. Not sure Willow agrees.”
Axel moans in his sleep, soothed when I run a hand over his messy purple hair. The last thing we need is him thrashing and hurting himself while he’s unconscious. As I carefully sit upright, Warner watches us with an unreadable expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s going to be out of action for a while.” Warner’s brows pinch together. “And this fight isn’t going to wait for his wounds to heal.”
“Then we protect him. Simple.”
“When has this case ever been simple?” Warner shakes his head.
“We have the upper hand now that Madden’s operating from the shadows. He’s lost his base of operations and his biggest ally. Even if he makes a move against us, we’re ready to take him down.”
“Do we look ready to you?”
“Then we prepare.”
“It’s never that easy, Em. You should know that better than anyone. We don’t even know which country Madden is holed up in, preparing to strike us next.”
Seeing him so drained hurts more than I care to admit. All this time, Warner’s been the driving force behind our team’s fight for justice. He’s the constant, steady rock that keeps us all afloat, no matter the setbacks or complications with the case.
It must take its toll.
Bracing myself on the edge of the bed, we’re almost knee-to-knee, an inch of breathing space holding us apart. I rest a hand on his good leg, eliciting a minuscule smile.
“I’m not used to the roles being reversed,” I admit. “Usually you’re the one talking me back from the brink, not the other way around.”
“I’m sorry, love.”
“Don’t be. Back when I joined Sabre, you told me this is what teams do. We bring our worries to each other then solve any issues as a family.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Then let me share the burden with you.”
With a weary nod, his hands clasp mine. His grip is firm. Steadfast. A silent promise that no matter how far this case drives us to the edge of no return, we’ll always have each other. Just like a real family.
“You should sleep.” I study the smudges under his eyes. “Axel’s doing fine, and for now, we’re safe.”
“Only if you come with me.”
“Someone should stay with him.”
“I’ll send Hyland in here.” Warner tugs on my hands. “He just got a couple hours sleep. Come on.”
Reluctantly, I rise from the bed and hand him the borrowed walking stick tucked against his chair. I don’t know where he found it, but I’m thankful he’s off his prosthetic for a while, at least.
The cabin is eerily quiet in the low light. I’m not sure where Blaine has skulked off to, but Hyland presses a kiss to my temple as he passes us to take over Axel duty. I’m guided towards the back of the cabin by Warner’s spare hand on my waist.
“Here, we can use this room.” He gently clicks the door of the master bedroom shut behind us. “Maybe it’s best if we leave town. I’m not sure how much longer we can go on living in each other’s hair like this.”
“Don’t fancy getting up close and personal with Blaine?” I snort.
“Not particularly, no.”
“You surprise me.”
“Watch it, Em.” Warner sits on the end of the bed, tugging off his T-shirt. “I’m not so tired I can’t punish you for being a brat.”
“Promises, promises.”
While leaner than Hyland with his mountain-like bulk, Warner’s no less trim and muscular. His chest, stomach and arms are corded, packing well-honed strength built over years of patient endurance.
As he skates a hand over his haphazard, silver-peppered hair, my core somersaults with desire so acute, it almost bowls me over. Years haven’t lessened his effect on my nervous system.
He drives me as crazy now as he did when I was a teenager, when he was a forbidden thought that kept me awake at night.
Only now I know how his body feels nestled against mine.
How he drives into me and splits my mind apart.
How his hot, possessive commands and dominant streak bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed.
“Stop staring at me like that,” he says throatily. “Otherwise, we’re going to be doing anything but sleeping in here.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“You’re tired. We should rest.”
“I’m too geared up to rest right now. I need an outlet.”
Seizing the hem of the shirt I stole from our donated pile, I unceremoniously tear it over my head, leaving me bare. I opted to forgo a bra while sitting with Axel. Mine is bloodstained, and I wasn’t about to ask Willow or a stranger to borrow their underwear.