Page 25 of Fractured Future

After six years, the likelihood of finding Ember alive feels remote, let alone finding her at all. We’re searching for a needle in a haystack, chasing ghosts in a country that’s suited to quick disappearances.

Limbs heavy with fatigue, I head out into the small kitchenette that connects our two rooms. Hyland is crouchedover an ancient-looking coffee machine, scowling at the blinking red light.

“Why is it still cold?” he asks the lifeless pot. “You stupid lump of junk.”

“Careful. Axel will tell you off for being mean to the machines.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the man in question hollers from their shared bedroom. “I hope Arnold Schwarzenegger kills you.”

“If I get a break from you, I’m game!” I shout back.

Clapping Hyland’s massive shoulder as I pass feels like petting the face of a mountain. At well over six foot two, he outweighs us all in size, height and muscle. The man is the walking embodiment of overgrown brawn.

His shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail today, leaving his glower front and centre. Not even his olive-green eyes, full lips or wide, flat nose can soften his perpetually furrowed brows.

The toothy smile he occasionally unleashes does counteract his monstrous height and grumpy disposition, but it’s reserved for family only. And nine times out of ten, we get gruff Hyland, not gentle Hyland.

“You get some sleep?”

“Some,” he grunts.

“We need to see who arrives for the club’s night shift. That government official was approving shipments for the cartel for years. If Ember was in one of them, she passed through here.”

“Women,” Hyland corrects.

“What?”

“I said women.” He stabs a thumb into the control pad. “Not shipments.”

“You know what I meant.”

“We’re talking about people here.”

“Shit, man. I bloody know!” Tiredness coupled with frustration causes me to erupt. “And she could be one of them!”

Turning my back on him to grab coffee cups, I feel my mobile phone vibrating in my trouser pocket. Probably Kade calling to try his luck moaning to me about the late-night wake up call.

“All it takes is one sighting.” I reach for three mugs, setting them on the stained countertop. “This venue funnels victims from across the globe through its doors. She could’ve come through.”

“We need to shut it down.”

“And we will. As soon as we’ve verified whether Ember was there. I don’t want to spook the owner—it’s a front for the Gael cartel, and we both know it.”

“Do we?” he chuffs.

My curled fist slams against the countertop, rattling the empty mugs. I’ve been awake for ten minutes, and already I’m fighting the urge to batter my teammates.

“What is your problem, Hyland?”

My phone stills in my pocket as I stare up at him. His narrowed, moss-coloured gaze is full of challenge. I know how hard it is for him to be away from home, but I’m not going back to England without answers.

“I want to finish this just as much as you do.” He forces a calmer, even tone. “But after all this time… don’t you think it’s cruel to keep getting Tom’s hopes up?”

“He’s my best friend.” I blow out a tense breath.

“Exactly. You should be helping him move on.”

“And if it were someone you loved out there? Lost and alone? Could you move on?”