Page 103
Story: Rescuing Ember
“They need discipline.” Wolfe’s composure returns, but something feral lingers in his gaze. “Perhaps it’s time for your first real test. Show me how you’d handle disobedience.”
Time stretches like a tripwire. Whatever I do next will echo through these cells, through these lives, but Blaze’s team is coming.
They have to be.
He said they would find us.
Until then, I dance on the edge of a knife.
“Not yet.” I touch his arm, drawing his attention back. “Let me study them first. Learn their patterns and their weaknesses. You’ve waited years for this—why rush?”
His expression softens, pride replacing rage. “Always the tactician. Yes, observe first. Break them later.” His fingers card through my hair, proprietary. “We have all the time in the world, little flame. All the time in the world.”
Behind us, the girl’s eyes never waver. She sees through my act and recognizes the game I’m playing. Her slight nod is almost imperceptible.
She’ll keep fighting. They all will.
And so will I—until Blaze comes or until I burn this whole empire down.
Whichever comes first.
THIRTY-SIX
Blaze
Blood dripsfrom my split lip. The coppery tang fills my mouth, mixing with bile and desperation. My ribs scream with every breath, broken bones grinding together beneath bruised flesh. The Zip Ties bite deeper into my wrists, plastic edges sawing through layers of skin, leaving them raw and bloody.
My fingers have gone numb, tingling in that unsettling way that tells me if this keeps up, I might lose them. I focus on the pain; let it keep me present. I can’t afford to drift away.
Another blow lands, this one against my ribs. Stars explode behind my eyes, pain radiating through my body like a thousand shards of glass. The room tilts sideways, reality blurring at the edges, the fluorescent light overhead flickering as if it’s struggling too.
“Ready to talk yet, hero?” Bruiser’s breath is hot against my face, reeking of cigarettes and sadistic pleasure. His eyes narrow, dark pits filled with nothing but malice and greed. He enjoys this. He lives for this moment, the power he holds over me.
The question hangs in the air, unanswered. I let the silence grow thick between us, then blood bubbles between my lips,spilling out as I spit at his feet. The anger in his eyes is satisfying, a small victory that warms me in this freezing, dark place.
His response is immediate—brass knuckles slamming into my solar plexus. Air rushes from my lungs in a strangled gasp, a dry wheeze that only seems to spur him on.
Before I can recover, another hit connects with my jaw. My head snaps to the side, the crack of bone echoing through the empty room, followed by the taste of copper flooding my mouth. I choke on it, forcing myself to swallow, the tang cutting through the haze clouding my thoughts.
“Getting tired yet?” Smiley circles behind me, his footsteps a predatory rhythm on the concrete.
The way he moves makes my skin crawl, the anticipation of the next blow hanging over me like an executioner’s blade. He leans down, voice sliding over me like oil.
“All this pain could end,” he says. “Just tell us what we want to know.”
My head drops forward, chin touching my chest. Each breath sends shards of agony through my broken ribs, splinters of pain that blur the lines of time.
The fluorescent light above flickers, casting strange shadows that dance across the blood-stained floor, and I focus on that flickering, on the way the shadows twist and turn. It’s almost hypnotic, a rhythm I try to match my breathing to.
Time stretches, elastic and unpredictable.
Has it been hours?
Days?
The pain blurs everything together, a symphony of agony with no beginning and no end. I can no longer tell where one bruise ends and another begins; it all melts into one monstrous, pulsing ache.
Jenny will know something’s wrong by now. The missed check-in at the safe house will trigger protocols. But Californiais hours away, and every second drags, pulling me further into the depths of this nightmare. My team is coming, but distance is a cruel master. I have to hold on, have to stay conscious, stay aware.
Time stretches like a tripwire. Whatever I do next will echo through these cells, through these lives, but Blaze’s team is coming.
They have to be.
He said they would find us.
Until then, I dance on the edge of a knife.
“Not yet.” I touch his arm, drawing his attention back. “Let me study them first. Learn their patterns and their weaknesses. You’ve waited years for this—why rush?”
His expression softens, pride replacing rage. “Always the tactician. Yes, observe first. Break them later.” His fingers card through my hair, proprietary. “We have all the time in the world, little flame. All the time in the world.”
Behind us, the girl’s eyes never waver. She sees through my act and recognizes the game I’m playing. Her slight nod is almost imperceptible.
She’ll keep fighting. They all will.
And so will I—until Blaze comes or until I burn this whole empire down.
Whichever comes first.
THIRTY-SIX
Blaze
Blood dripsfrom my split lip. The coppery tang fills my mouth, mixing with bile and desperation. My ribs scream with every breath, broken bones grinding together beneath bruised flesh. The Zip Ties bite deeper into my wrists, plastic edges sawing through layers of skin, leaving them raw and bloody.
My fingers have gone numb, tingling in that unsettling way that tells me if this keeps up, I might lose them. I focus on the pain; let it keep me present. I can’t afford to drift away.
Another blow lands, this one against my ribs. Stars explode behind my eyes, pain radiating through my body like a thousand shards of glass. The room tilts sideways, reality blurring at the edges, the fluorescent light overhead flickering as if it’s struggling too.
“Ready to talk yet, hero?” Bruiser’s breath is hot against my face, reeking of cigarettes and sadistic pleasure. His eyes narrow, dark pits filled with nothing but malice and greed. He enjoys this. He lives for this moment, the power he holds over me.
The question hangs in the air, unanswered. I let the silence grow thick between us, then blood bubbles between my lips,spilling out as I spit at his feet. The anger in his eyes is satisfying, a small victory that warms me in this freezing, dark place.
His response is immediate—brass knuckles slamming into my solar plexus. Air rushes from my lungs in a strangled gasp, a dry wheeze that only seems to spur him on.
Before I can recover, another hit connects with my jaw. My head snaps to the side, the crack of bone echoing through the empty room, followed by the taste of copper flooding my mouth. I choke on it, forcing myself to swallow, the tang cutting through the haze clouding my thoughts.
“Getting tired yet?” Smiley circles behind me, his footsteps a predatory rhythm on the concrete.
The way he moves makes my skin crawl, the anticipation of the next blow hanging over me like an executioner’s blade. He leans down, voice sliding over me like oil.
“All this pain could end,” he says. “Just tell us what we want to know.”
My head drops forward, chin touching my chest. Each breath sends shards of agony through my broken ribs, splinters of pain that blur the lines of time.
The fluorescent light above flickers, casting strange shadows that dance across the blood-stained floor, and I focus on that flickering, on the way the shadows twist and turn. It’s almost hypnotic, a rhythm I try to match my breathing to.
Time stretches, elastic and unpredictable.
Has it been hours?
Days?
The pain blurs everything together, a symphony of agony with no beginning and no end. I can no longer tell where one bruise ends and another begins; it all melts into one monstrous, pulsing ache.
Jenny will know something’s wrong by now. The missed check-in at the safe house will trigger protocols. But Californiais hours away, and every second drags, pulling me further into the depths of this nightmare. My team is coming, but distance is a cruel master. I have to hold on, have to stay conscious, stay aware.
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