Page 5 of Trapped Truth

Icy, evergreen-scented air whips my red tresses around me. The wind seems to blow down the steep mountain faces that surround the valley, carrying a frigid December chill and the scent of dense fir trees.

In many ways, it’s comforting. We’re far from the city. I’ve learned to love London during my six months of freedom from the cartel, but the sting of fresh air beating my cheeks is its own form of catharsis.

There’s a clatter behind me when the log cabin’s door clicks open then closed. Footsteps join me in the early morning solitude. At the snick of a lighter, I glance to the side, watching Blaine spark up a suspicious looking cigarette.

“Where did you find a joint?”

Lips pursed around the tip, he inhales deeply with half-shut eyes. “Asked around town. That douchebag Ethan’s fiancé knew a guy who would sell to me.”

“I find that hard to believe in a place like Briar Valley.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetheart. You want some?”

I decline with a head shake. “I’m good. I need to keep a clear head.”

“Suit yourself.”

When Hyland’s done fighting sleep, someone will need to take over watching Axel. His condition is touch-and-go, despite being monitored by the town medic, Doc, since we landed yesterday. Even Warner’s had a blood pressure cuff on the man.

“Did you get some rest?” Blaine asks through a cloud of fragrant smoke.

“A little. You?”

“No, I hiked to the perimeter to get service and call the others.”

“What’s the latest?” My heart rate picks up.

“Raye and Spyder are in the wind, no sign of my father or his associates. The Estonian government is dismantling the remains of his operation as we speak.”

Puffy knuckles aching where I clench the cabin’s wraparound porch, flashes superimpose over my vision without warning. The flashbacks have been hitting in random bursts, never once granting me a moment’s peace.

Gracie’s pale, terrified face, matured but still innocent after all these years. The horrifying sight of Axel’s limp body inside a cage, unresponsive and bloodstained. Then Gael… Spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth, a crimson spray oozing from the ear-to-ear slice that ended his evil for good.

And my hands.

Stained. Culpable. Guilty.

I fled the cartel so I no longer had to bloody my fists for them. I’ve spent my freedom doing exactly the opposite for Sabre Security. Now I have to live with the memories of carving skin, tissue and cartilage without skipping a beat.

Even if Gael deserved it.

Stubbing out his joint, Blaine tentatively moves closer along the porch, his onyx stare fixed on my face. “What’s running through that mind of yours?”

“Nothing.”

“You can talk to me, Ember.”

His use of my name sends a jolt of electricity through me.

“Since when do you offer emotional support?”

“Since now.” He tilts his head. “What’s going on?”

“We almost lost Axel,” I croak, looking away from the distant snowy mountain pass. “I didn’t know if I was leaving him in that cage to die. And Gracie… she begged me, Blaine. Begged me not to leave her again.”

The bottomless, black pits that reside beneath his enviable lashes seem to soften somehow. Honestly, this side of the prolific mobster is still a novelty. I’m used to ruthless, business-like Blaine. Not secretive, gentle Blaine who comes out in private.

“You did what you had to. They’re both alive because of you.”