7. Ember
EMBER
GLYCERINE - BUSH
Standing outside Doctor Richards’s office in Sabre HQ isn’t dissimilar from waiting for the school principal. I’m not sure what the therapeutic term for a scolding would be, but I’m sure he’s intending to give me one after hearing about our recent activities.
As much as I want to hightail it out of here and hide somewhere that doesn’t involve my darkest thoughts being plucked out or examined, Willow’s words still linger. I know I belong in this team, this work, this fight. But if I want to rebuild, I have to start from within.
My head crashes into my palms. Ugh. If I could become a better person without enduring painful cross-examination by a licensed shrink, that would be preferable.
“Ember?”
Jolting upright, I spy none other than Hudson Knight walking towards me down the corridor. Damn, he looks as exhausted as I feel.
“Oh, hey.”
“You doing okay?” He stops a few feet from me.
“Fine. Just waiting for Richards.”
“So I thought.”
Tall, long-limbed and eternally imposing in his all-black clothing and visible tattoos, Hudson still strikes fear in most who cross his path. Being the co-director of Sabre Security only adds to that effect. Personally, I remain firm that he’s a kitten on the inside.
“He’s been held up downstairs with our house guest.” He plucks up a grim smile. “If Axel could heal up and come deal with his brother, we’d all appreciate it.”
“Gunnar still won’t talk?”
“Not a damn word for over a week now. He refuses to even confirm his identity, let alone give us any intel on Gael’s operation or the investigation.”
If I were in The Hunter’s position, I’d do the same. He’s out of easy hands to play. Using his silence as a bargaining chip is the last move available to him in a deck of stacked cards.
“Well, if Richards isn’t coming… want me to give it a try?” I force myself to ignore the unease making my skin itch.
Two vivid aquamarines study me assessingly. “With Gunnar?”
“Worth a shot. I was there in the end when he chose to take our side. Perhaps he’ll talk to me.”
“I’m not sure half-heartedly rescuing the man he shot in cold blood at the eleventh hour counts as a rescue,” he points out. “He hasn’t even asked about his brother’s health.”
I have to bite the insides of my cheek to steady my nerves. I’m sure Richards would love to dig into the flashes of Axel’s brush with death that fill my mind with horror on a regular basis. Intuition tells me confronting Gunnar directly will be a lot more therapeutic than talking it out.
“Let me try, Hudson. We have nothing to lose.”
He runs his thumb over the black piercing in his eyebrow. “I suppose it’s worth trying.”
“Where are the others? We should do this now. Hyland might not approve of me talking to the enemy.”
“They’re in a strategy meeting with Kade and the intelligence department.”
“Still?” I straighten from my perch against the wall.
“We’re running through our previous intel about Madden’s boltholes across the city before Sabre took down his infrastructure. There’s a theory he may use his old stomping grounds to launch an offensive.”
“You don’t think he’d anticipate us checking there?”
“We have to start somewhere.” Hudson shrugs, the dark circles under his eyes gleaming like fresh bruises.
“I suppose that’s logical.”
“We’re having Blaine and his associates cross-reference with their information. Who knows Madden better than his own people?”
“Using his own son against him—smart.”
“My brother thought so.” He rolls his blue eyes. “It was his idea to accept the intel provided by Blaine’s team too. That decision I’m less keen on, but we’re living in desperate times.”
As I think about Axel bed-bound and bandaged, Warner defeated by it all and Hyland unable to sleep at night from fear of when the next attack will come, it’s hard not to agree. We are getting desperate.
“Come on, I’ll take you downstairs.” He turns to head down the carpeted corridor. “We have a section of the detention wing sealed off for Gunnar to avoid any unnecessary casualties. He’s cunning.”
After seeing him kill without breaking a sweat, I’m inclined to agree.
“How many cracks have you had at getting him to talk?”
“Too many.” Hudson grimaces.
“He wants something. Why hasn’t he made his demands?”
“Perhaps that’s coming.”
“We don’t have time for whatever scheme this is.”
“I know, Ember. Believe me. I need his information before we decide what to do with him. There’s no prison in the country I’d trust to keep Gunnar Slaughter safely subdued.”
I sigh through my nose. “Then I suppose this had better work.”
We descend into the bowels of HQ together, nodding to various staff members who greet Hudson when he passes. Both Knight brothers command the same level of respect. It’s hard not to appreciate their authority presiding over such a huge organisation.
“Have you spoken to Tom?” Hudson scans his ID badge to access the elevator.
“Only briefly. I need to go over there to check on him properly. He wants to go back to work now that he’s feeling stronger, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Can’t bubble wrap him forever.”
“He was kidnapped and almost died. I have a right to be concerned.”
“This is the world we live in.” He assesses me from the other side of the metal enclosure. “Tom knows this job is risky, whether you’re on the front line or hot-desking in the legal department.”
“So you’d be fine with someone you love being used as a bargaining chip too?” I glare at him.
“Obviously not.” He glowers back just as passionately. “But if I locked my wife inside and forbade her from taking risks or doing what she loves, I don’t think I’d live long enough to tell you about it.”
“From her reputation, I’d agree.”
“Hah. She’d be happy to hear that.”
As we lower into the bowels of the skyscraper that Sabre calls home, a shudder crawls down my spine. The detention floor still gives me the creeps. I don’t know how Axel works down here every day.
Lit with industrial strip lights, illuminating rows of unoccupied interrogation rooms and long, endless corridors to the holding cells beyond, the entire subterranean level is soulless. There are few staff members down here, mostly security with the odd agent or two.
We halt outside Interrogation Suite 6 to scan to access the observation side of the room, marked by a bay of live feeds recording the interview within. Through a two-way mirror, there’s a clear view inside the cell, where a metal table and two chairs are occupied.
“You may speak freely, Mr Slaughter.” Richards lays his best therapy voice on thick. “This conversation is off the record. I’m merely here to provide a psychiatric opinion to my superiors.”
Seated on the opposite side of the table, Gunnar appears rough. Looking at his round jawline smothered in unshaved stubble and blazing, honey-hued eyes, it’s hard not to see Axel staring back at me.
Their differing hair colour and lack of matching tattoos are the only visible differences that set them apart. Even the way he sits is the same; shoulders slumped, posture relaxed. Like he doesn’t have a goddamn care in the world despite being buried here with no hope of escape.
“He’s completely silent?” I watch the awkward scene.
“Every day,” Hudson affirms. “Not a word.”
“Jesus. He’s fully checked out.”
“Get anything out of the asshole, and you’ll be on my good list forever.”
“Yeah, right.” I cut him another sharp glower. “I’m already on your good list, dickhead. Don’t dangle that in front of me.”
Hudson smiles. “Busted.”
“Pull him out. I’ll see what I can do.”
Hudson nods, calling for Doctor Richards through the intercom. Rolling my shoulders back and forth, I watch as Richards abandons his futile attempts to crack the prisoner—sighing, gathering his notepad and leaving the room, all without stirring a visible reaction from Gunnar.
“Any luck?” Hudson asks in greeting when Richards joins us.
Doctor Richards rubs underneath his spectacles. “It isn’t often I get frustrated after almost five decades in this field, but he’s a tough nut to crack. I’m not sure if he’s even hearing me.”
“There’s been no response at all?” I ask him.
“None, not even a nod.” He spares me a brief, clinical look. “Apologies, Ember. I didn’t mean to run so late to our scheduled session. Are you well?”
“Bearing up, doc. I’m here to have a crack with your newest patient.”
“You’re going in there?”
“I’ve approved it,” Hudson answers for me, his tone brooking no argument. “Ember was the last person Gunnar spoke to during the raid. Until Axel is recovered and willing to engage, she’s our best bet.”
“That seems like a risky endeavour.”
“As much as I respect your professional opinion, this isn’t the time for caution. We have to utilise every resource at our expense to regain control of this case.”
Doctor Richards disregards Hudson and turns to face me, clutching his notes close. The old man looks wearier than usual. His floral shirt is a pale shade of blue today with no flowers. By his wacky standards, that’s positively funeral attire.
“I trust you to know your own limitations,” he says assuredly. “But after your recent operations, I’d advise caution. If Gunnar decides to speak, he may use the events of the raid to his advantage.”
“I’ll be fine, doc. He can’t hurt me.”
“But you’re more than capable of hurting yourself, my dear. Don’t let him get in your head.”
Despite being concerned for my welfare, he’s actually trusting me to give this a shot. The show of faith is strangely endearing.
“I can handle Gunnar, but thank you,” I assure him. “After what we survived, I’m more tempted to put him out of his misery than let him manipulate me.”
“Perhaps that’s the point,” Richards replies ominously. “Remain calm.”
Jaw locked, I nod and wait to be buzzed into the cell. Adrenaline frissons through my extremities at the impending reunion with the man who tried to take Axel from me.