Page 6 of Trapped Truth
“If it weren’t for me, Axel never would’ve been in that warehouse.”
“So what?” His shoulder lifts in a shrug. “He knew the risks. By all accounts, it was his brother who tried to kill him. Are you responsible for The Hunter’s actions too?”
“Well, no.”
“Then it’s settled,” Blaine says firmly. “None of this is your fault.”
My aching head bows, too heavy and sore to hold upright. Even if I screw my eyes shut tight, I can still see their faces. All interspersed with the satisfying horror of Gael’s gaping neck wound. It’s fucking dizzying.
“Life isn’t that black and white. You can’t declare someone innocent then expect them to put their guilt aside. Not after what we just survived.”
“I can, and I have,” he deadpans.
“Blaine… Stop.”
“Why? Blaming yourself is a waste of time. Don’t expect me to stand here and watch you do it without raising an issue. This is foolish.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?”
“Infamously no. Have you only just realised that?”
Of all the people to console me, he’s the unlikeliest. If it were Warner or anyone else, perhaps I’d believe them. But not Blaine. Not the infamous Phantom. No matter his harsh but simplistic outlook on life.
Though he sees past the mask I slide on for the rest of the world to the twisted, ugliest parts of me—the parts forged in fire under Gael’s thumb—I’m not convinced he would recognise culpability even if it were staring right at him.
We’re as broken as each other. By circumstance or what it took to survive our own personal hells, it doesn’t matter. I know Blaine harbours the same violence that thrums in my veins and would never judge me for it. It’s also what makes him immune to the regret and guilt most normal people feel.
“If your father’s base of operations is being wiped out by the authorities, he’ll be desperate.” I raise my head, scraping together a brave mask. “Desperate people do dangerous things.”
“I’m aware. You can assume Sabre will be his number one target.”
“So where do we go from here?”
A scar-laden hand drops on top of mine, his fingers long and elegant, possessing a grace that’s unique to Blaine. I drag in a breath as his grip tightens, encouraging me to meet his forceful stare.
Fuck, he’s beautiful. In a rugged, terrifying way. From his jet-black locks left long and floppy over shaved sides to his jagged, uneven facial scar and the silver ring that pierces his beckoning bottom lip, everything about Blaine Madden is dangerously enthralling.
“We take my father down for good.” He traces over my busted knuckles. “Clean house, no loose ends. He’s going to come at us. You, me, Sabre. No one’s safe as long as he’s alive.”
“He knows you’re working with us now.”
“Precisely why I’m here with you. My intentions coming into this arrangement are null and void. This is our fight now, and the only way we win it is together.”
My palm flips, tangling our fingers together. His skin is warm on mine. For all his gnarly battle scars and defences, parts of Blaine are soft. Lovable. And holding him close feels so goddamn right.
“Together?” I dare to whisper.
The corner of his mouth hooks upward, pulling his lip piercing taut. “Is that what you want?”
“More than anything.”
“Then I’m right where I’m supposed to be. By your side until the very end, sweetheart.”
“What about the others?”
“Their involvement changes nothing about how I feel.”
His forehead teases mine, the scent of woodsy smoke clinging to the plush lips that dare to ghost over mine. I crush my mouth onto his before I physically combust with impatience, slamming our chests together in the process.
