Page 30 of Fractured Future

Checking the magazine of my semi-automatic pistol, I focus on the solid weight of it clasped in my hand while he drives.I’m not a nervous person, far from it. I’ve faced enough life and death situations to master my fight-or-flight response.

But having a loved one caught in the line of fire evokes a different feeling. The lack of control, endlesswhat ifscenarios… It’s all too much to hold inside without splitting apart at the seams.

I’d love to unload this round into the motherfucker who did this to Ember in the first place. As soon as she’s secured, hunting down the scum who harmed her is going to be my first priority.

“Take the highway,” Axel shouts from the backseat. “Head east. I’ll holler when you need to turn.”

“Hold tight,” Hyland warns.

Praying to God that no airport worker is watching us abuse their rental car’s engine, we race out of the half-full garage. It’s late at night now, and the roads are quiet. Luckily, May is a slow season for tourism.

“Where was her last location?” I ask over my shoulder.

There’s tapping on a keyboard.

“She moved about a mile or so to the north,” Axel replies distractedly. “Looks like farmland. There are a whole bunch of coffee production sites around there.”

“With any luck, she’s still there.”

“She will be.” Hyland bobs his head with certainty.

A sour-faced asshole or not, he knows exactly what to say when push comes to shove. Hyland is a steady, albeit gruff presence in our chaotic lifestyle. And I’m thankful for that.

Though his steadiness is being called into question by his alarming driving right now. We blast past idling vehicles and bright road signs without taking time to consider the consequences.

“Have you called Tom?” Hyland’s gaze briefly shifts to me.

“Not yet.”

“You need to call him.”

“I will once she’s secured. He’ll want to speak to her.”

Mouth tightening, Hyland swerves around what appears to be a loaded cattle truck driving at a snail’s pace. My shoulder smashes into the car door while Axel curses from the backseat.

“How far, pup?” Hyland barks.

“Not that nickname. Come on, dude.”

“What? It’s appropriate.”

“We’re not having this argument again. Don’t think I won’t make good on my threats to slit your throat.” Axel’s fingers click away. “It’s about eight miles.”

“Shit,” I spit. “Keep calling her.”

“The line’s dead,” he points out.

“I don’t care! Keep trying!”

Summoning the good sense not to argue with me, Axel resumes dialling Ember’s number from his own phone. I drop a hand to my right thigh, tracing the ridge where my residual limb meets the prosthetic socket.

If she’s slipped between our fingers now that we’re this close to bringing her home, I’ll never be able to face myself again. Let alone her brother. Ember’s life is in my fucking hands.

Hyland keeps his attention fixed on our surroundings as we speed past. “We will find her.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He shrugs a huge shoulder. “Because we won’t rest until we do.”