Ember #2
After a terse nod, Blaine pushes the coffee table across the living room floor to clear a space. Then he shoves part of the large sectional to one side, creating a barrier with the newly replaced television. The original one didn’t survive the last fight to take place in this penthouse.
When it becomes obvious I’m not going to dissuade them, I retreat to Axel’s side to pour myself a fresh drink. I’ll need it to watch this unfold. Axel seems to have the same realisation as he fixes himself a whiskey.
Gunnar removes his guns and Sabre-issued protective gear, now free to crack his neck from side to side. By comparison, Blaine is already stripped down and prepared, his clothing still stained with dried blood.
“Perhaps we should have some ground rules?” Axel suggests.
Both men decline at the same time.
“Or not,” Ax mutters.
“Is this going to end in someone’s death?” I wince at the spectacle.
“Unclear. I’ll put twenty quid on Gunnar, though.”
“Brotherly solidarity?”
“Something like that.” Axel nudges his shoulder into mine.
“Make it fifty, and you’re on.”
“Damn, babe. You’re confident.”
“No… I just think Blaine’s that pissed off right now.”
Watching him bob around on light feet, observing Gunnar for any hints of his tactics, I do feel confident in my bet. Gunnar’s got the skill and violence down pat. Blaine has precision and blind fury on his side, though.
Without anyone to intervene, Gunnar is free to launch the first attack. Moving faster than the speed of light, he vaults the sofa that separates them, landing in the living area. With a single blink, he’s on Blaine, releasing a flurry of punishing blows.
“Goddamn.” Axel whistles.
“He moves fucking fast.”
“Get ready to pay up, Em. You’re gonna lose.”
With an audible hiss, Blaine propels his fist directly into Gunnar’s jaw. Spit flies through the air. I cringe at the sound, but it doesn’t take long for Gunnar to respond in kind with a solid jab to the midsection.
Another strike to the head. Ribcage. Fists blurring as they trade violence. Without breaking a sweat, Gunnar tosses Blaine across the middle of the space, leaving him to crumple. Before I can intervene, Blaine’s on his feet, delivering punch after punch in a bloodthirsty rage.
They’re evenly matched. Neither man seems to outweigh the other in skill or strength. After fighting Blaine myself, I know how well-honed those instincts are. But Gunnar’s aggression manifests differently. He lashes out like he has a bottomless well of grievances to fuel his muscles.
“They’re going to beat each other senseless at this rate.” I clutch my glass, struggling to track the flurry of skin and fists.
“Might not be a bad thing.”
“Should I intervene?”
“Don’t you dare, Em.” Axel quickly shakes his head. “You’ve thrown yourself into too many fights as it is.”
I’m tempted to ignore him and wrestle the snarling beasts apart regardless. If I didn’t believe Axel would follow and probably re-injure himself, I’d already be in the middle of them.
Knocking back the rest of my liquor is a welcome distraction from Blaine hitting the floor again, his face now marred by a bloody trail. A cut has opened up next to his eyebrow. Meanwhile, Gunnar seems unharmed. Perhaps they’re not so evenly matched after all.
“Do you yield?”
“Fuck you.” Blaine wipes blood from his face.
“I can do this all night, Phantom.”
Before Blaine can find his feet, Gunnar knocks him back onto his spine with a well-placed kick to the side. I watch the air shoot from Blaine’s nostrils. He sprawls out in a heap, making no attempt to respond.
“Stay down.” Gunnar uses his forearm to mop up his sweat.
I ditch my glass then move closer, intent to break them up. “Alright, that’s enough.”
“I’m not done,” Blaine wheezes.
“Yes. You are.”
“Sure you don’t want me to knock him out?” Chuckling, Gunnar peers down at his victim. “That’d make him rest.”
“Thanks for the offer. You can go back to your post now.”
“Whatever you say.”
With him sidling out of the way, I’m free to crouch at Blaine’s side. He bats away my hand, twisting his head away to hawk up a globule of bloody saliva.
“Blaine,” I groan. “Come on.”
“Leave me alone, Ember.”
“Not a chance in hell. Let’s clean you up so we can both get some shut eye.”
This time, he reluctantly clasps my hand, allowing me to yank him upright. Axel and Gunnar trade quiet whispers as I push Blaine towards the hallway that leads to our bedrooms. Neither stops us from retreating.
Blaine grumbles to himself while entering my dark bedroom. I flip lights on so he can find a clear path to the en suite. Inside, he ducks over the sink to repeatedly splash water on his face.
“Let me see.” I inch closer.
“He barely touched me.”
“Then let me check.”
Chuntering, Blaine turns so I can get a better look at his features. The cut above his eyebrow isn’t too deep, sitting an inch or so from the beginning of his winding facial scar. Still, I grab the first aid kit Warner stowed in here to dig out antiseptic.
“I can take care of myself, sweetheart.”
“But you don’t have to.” I point to the closed toilet seat. “Sit.”
He has the good sense not to argue with me. Plonking himself down, Blaine visibly deflates, tilting his chin up for my benefit. I place my supplies on the edge of the sink then shuffle over to commence cleaning the wound.
“Tell me how you got this scar. I know Raye stitched it.”
“Poorly.” Blaine briefly closes his eyes, a heavy exhale hurtling from his nose.
“You must’ve been young.”
“Fifteen or sixteen, I think. Raye hadn’t long joined our crew. Her father was high-ranking, but he got killed by a rival drug trafficker.”
Lips pursed, I focus on blotting the graze to halt the blood flow.
“I fucked up a delivery run.” Blaine’s revelation is emotionless. “Got jumped on the road, and a bunch of product was stolen. It was my first big solo outing, and my father had high expectations.”
“Even for a teenager?”
“I was never a child to him.”
Now that I can believe.
“I’d gotten used to his beatings.” He shrugs, gaze growing faraway. “Just never expected him to lose control and throw a fucking knife at me.”
“A knife?” I gasp.
“Like I said… I didn’t mean a whole lot to him. It took being sliced from ear to chin for me to finally realise that and begin gathering allies beyond his sphere of influence.”
“Jesus, Blaine.”
“One of those people was Raye.” He allows a jagged spike of pain to infiltrate his tone. “She helped me in the aftermath, but we were young. Her stitches were sloppy as hell.”
The prospect of two teenagers caught in an adult’s world and finding some safety in each other only adds to my confusing maelstrom of emotions. Madden didn’t just strike randomly. This attack was meant to deal a killer blow against his son. Perhaps even to incite his surrender.
With the antiseptic cream applied, I kneel to meet Blaine’s empty stare. Only it’s not so careful and considered now. Writhing flecks of navy compete against the matte-black surface of his obsidians, carrying great tides of grief.
“We will hit him back twice as hard,” I vow, squeezing his knee. “And this time, he won’t get back up.”
“I’m tired, Em. I want this war over.”
“You and me both.”
“Why does it feel like we must sacrifice everything to win?” His tongue flicks out to roll over his lip piercing.
I lean back against the sink, considering. “Because peace isn’t supposed to be easy.”
He slowly nods. “You have to fight for it.”
“Tooth and nail, apparently. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on our happy ending, and you shouldn’t either. We both deserve to have peace.”
“I’m not even sure what it looks like.” Blaine’s shoulders somehow slump even more.
“Then when all is said and done, we’ll find out together.”
His red-marked hand covers mine, the skin tacky from dried blood. Yet I don’t flinch. Not from this man. The other half of my dark, broken heart. My equal in the depravity that bore us both into this messed-up world.
“I’m sorry.” His confession is almost a whisper. “You’re trying to help.”
“You’re allowed to be all kinds of fucked up right now, Blaine. Don’t be afraid to show that vulnerability to me. I can hold your broken pieces too.”
“I’m still not used to having someone to do that.”
“You’d better start getting used to it, because me and you?” I smile ruefully. “That’s forever.”
Facial muscles releasing to surrender his frown, Blaine rises to capture me in a reverent kiss. It’s all the acceptance I need. He’s used to being strong—something I understand well. But around me, it isn’t necessary.
“Will you come to bed now?” I peck the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe for a couple hours.”
“I need you to hold me tonight.”
“How could I refuse that request?” His lips skate over mine, light and teasing.
Before I can pull away to usher us both to bed, a hand snaps out to halt me in place. Vulnerability carves Blaine’s forehead into a stern mountain plane, his brows pinched and jaw ticking.
“What is it?”
“Ember, there’s something I need you to know.”
“Okay… I’m all ears.”
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I need to say it anyway. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring for us, and I refuse to take another breath without admitting—”
“I love you too,” I interrupt, feeling myself grin.
He blinks. Brain stuttering. Mouth open on a confession I can easily read in his gaze.
“You had to walk all over my grand moment, huh?”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“I’ll show you sorry,” he growls in unfiltered, primal possession.
In one smooth advance, Blaine sweeps me into his arms. I cling onto his neck, carried bridal style into my bedroom. The bedsprings groan in protest when he tosses me onto the mattress, stopping to tear off his shirt.
“We have company,” I gasp.
The smirk that flashes over his face is a shot of pure reassurance. My Blaine is still in there. My Phantom. He hasn’t given up the fight yet.
“I don’t care. Right now, you’re all mine.”