Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

Blaze

Ember tastes of adrenaline and hope, of danger and salvation. My hands cup her face, hers fisting in my shirt to pull me closer. The kiss deepens, releasing pent-up tension and longing. It pours out in a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. It’s not gentle—it’s a claiming, a promise, a defiance against the darkness that surrounds us.

A soft sound escapes Ember’s throat, something between a whimper and a moan. It ignites a fire in my veins, consuming all rational thought. My hands slide down her sides, mapping the curves of her body. Ember arches into the touch, pressing herself against me. The heat of her skin burns through the thin fabric of her shirt.

We break apart, gasping for air. Ember’s pupils are blown wide, her lips swollen and red. A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing beneath her shirt—my shirt. I love that she wears something of mine.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Blaze,” she breathes, her voice husky with desire. “I?—”

A crash from downstairs cuts her off. We freeze, bodies still entangled. Footsteps, heavy and uneven, echo through the building. The scrape of a bottle against concrete. A drunken voice, slurring out a fragmented song.

Ember tenses in my arms, fear flashing across her face. The spell of the moment is broken, and reality crashes back in with brutal force.

I press a finger to her lips, then ease off the mattress. My weapon is in my hand before I realize I’ve drawn it, the weight familiar and comforting.

The footsteps grow closer, accompanied by unintelligible muttering. I position myself between Ember and the door, every muscle coiled tight. The floorboards creak outside.

The doorknob rattles. Once. Twice. A frustrated grunt from the other side. My finger taps the trigger guard, sweat beading on my brow.

“Oi! This my spot!” The voice is thick with alcohol and rage, slurring the words into a barely comprehensible growl. “Get out!”

We’ve come too far and survived too much to let some random drunk undo it all. Her hand closes around a broken piece of pipe, knuckles white with tension.

The door shudders as a body slams against it. The chair wedged beneath the knob groans but holds. Another impact. Wood splinters, a crack spreading like a spiderweb across the aged surface.

I raise my weapon, thumbing off the safety. The click seems unnaturally loud in the tense silence. Beside me, Ember shifts her grip on the pipe, her stance ready for action.

One more hit and the door will give. I take a deep breath. Time seems to slow, each heartbeat stretching into eternity.

The door bursts open in a shower of splinters. A man stumbles through, more rags than human. The stench of cheap liquor rolls off him in waves, making my eyes water. His bloodshot eyes sweep the room, widening as they take in the scene—me with my weapon, Ember with her pipe.

“What the f—” His bleary eyes narrow, confusion giving way to anger.

Time slows, stretching like taffy. The man’s hand twitches toward his waistband. A glint of metal catches the dim light.

“Wait.” Ember steps forward, pipe still raised, but her posture becomes less threatening. Her voice holds steady. “Listen, buddy. We don’t want any trouble. Just looking for a place to crash for the night. Why don’t we all calm down, yeah?”

The drunk blinks, his alcohol-soaked brain struggling to process the situation. Confusion wars with anger on his face.

“This… This my spot,” he slurs, swaying on his feet. His eyes dart between us, assessing the threat.

“We know,” Ember soothes, her voice taking on a gentle cadence I’ve never heard before. It’s hypnotic, almost mesmerizing. “And we’re sorry for intruding. How about we make a deal? We’ve got some cash. Enough for a nice bottle of something. What do you say? You let us stay here tonight, and tomorrow, you buy yourself a real good time.”

The man’s aggression slowly deflates. Ember’s words work their magic. He squints at her, then at me, then back to Ember. Greed replaces the anger in his bloodshot eyes.

“How much we talkin’?”

Ember’s gaze flicks to me, a silent question. I nod, reaching for my wallet with my free hand. The leather is worn, and the edges are frayed.

“Twenty,” I offer, pulling out a bill. The money seems insignificant compared to our lives, a small price for temporary safety.

The drunk’s eyes light up, greed overtaking all other emotions.

“Deal. He snatches the money from my hand. His fingers are grimy, nails rimmed with dirt. He turns to leave, then pauses in the doorway. “Don’t touch my stuff.” He gestures vaguely at a pile of rags in the corner. The threat in his voice is clear despite the slur.

And then he’s gone, stumbling back down the stairs and into the night. His heavy footsteps echo through the building, growing fainter with each step. We stand frozen, listening until the sound fades entirely.

“That was—impressive.” I lower my weapon.

Ember’s shoulders sag, the adrenaline visibly draining from her body. The pipe clatters to the floor, the sound jarring in the sudden quiet.

“Sometimes talking works better than fighting. Especially with drunks.”

“You’ve had practice.”

It’s not a question. The ease with which she handled the situation speaks volumes about her past.

She nods, sinking back onto the mattress. The springs creak under her weight, a discordant melody in the tense atmosphere.

“More than I’d like to admit.”

I join her, the adrenaline crash leaving me feeling hollow and shaky. The mattress dips beneath us, bringing our bodies close.

“Thank you for defusing that. I was ready to shoot him.”

“I know. That’s why I had to try something else. I’ve seen enough blood for one night.” Ember’s hand finds mine; her fingers cool against my skin. The touch grounds me.

The images of the men I killed tonight flash through my mind, the bodies I left in our wake.

“Hey.” Ember’s voice pulls me back to the present. Her hand cups my cheek, forcing me to meet her gaze. “How about we forget about everything and get some rest? You need it too, you know.”

I shake my head, my body tense, too wired. “I need to call this in. My day’s far from over.”

She frowns. “We both need rest. You can call it in after a nap… Close your eyes for a bit.”

“I can’t.” My voice is firm, even though exhaustion weighs on me like a heavy blanket. “There’s a body count to deal with. Guardian HRS will handle the cleanup, but it’s still a mess. I can’t let my guard down.”

Her brow furrows, stubbornness flashing in her eyes. “You’re not a machine. You’re running on fumes, and pushing through will only get you hurt. Let me watch your back for once.”

I almost smile at that—almost. “You? Watch my back?”

Her lips press into a tight line, defiant. “Yes. I’ve got two hands and a pair of eyes. You need this. Just rest, please.”

I stare at her, the fight draining out of me, though I’m not about to admit it.

“Fine.” I give her the illusion of winning this argument. “But just for a little while. You go first. I’ll keep watch.”

She sighs, too tired to argue further, sinking back onto the bed, her body curling against mine. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

We both know it’s a lie.

Moments later, her breathing evens out, the tension slipping from her body as she drifts into sleep.

I stay perfectly still, letting her think I’m following her into oblivion, but I remain vigilant as the minutes tick by.

As the hours pass and dawn creeps closer, I don’t sleep.

I won’t.

Not while she’s vulnerable, not while there’s still danger lurking outside this room. I’ll keep watch over her, just like I said I would.

Ember stirs, her eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spreads across her face as she takes me in, and my heart skips a beat.

“Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

“Morning,” I reply, leaning in to kiss her softly.

The kiss is gentle, a stark contrast to the desperate passion of last night.

“Sleep okay?”

She stretches, catlike, and I’m momentarily distracted by the play of muscles under her skin. “Better than I have in years. You make a pretty good pillow.”

A chuckle rumbles through my chest as I run a hand through her tangled hair.

“Happy to be of service.”

For a moment, we lie there, basking in the simple pleasure of being close, but the weight of our situation slowly settles back in, impossible to ignore.

We can’t avoid the world outside forever.

“We should get moving.” I hate to break the peaceful moment. “Find somewhere with a phone. I need to contact my team and let them know what’s happening and that we’re alive.”

In the chaos of last night, my phone is the one thing I left behind.

Ember makes no move to get up. Instead, she burrows closer, pressing her face into the crook of my neck. Her breath is warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Five more minutes?”

My arms tighten around her, savoring the warmth of her body against mine.

“Five more minutes,” I agree, unable to deny her this small comfort.

As we lie there, I’m struck by how little I know about Ember.

“Tell me about yourself.” I run my fingers through her hair. “How did you end up on the streets?”

Ember tenses slightly, then relaxes with a sigh. “It’s not a happy story,” she warns.

“I’m listening,” I assure her, giving her the space to share as she chooses.

She’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she’ll answer. Then, softly, she begins.

“I was in foster care since I can remember. Got bounced around a lot. Some homes were okay, others—weren’t. When I was twelve, I ran away. Couldn’t take it anymore.”

My arms tighten around her instinctively. The thought of a young Ember, alone and scared on the streets, makes my chest ache.

“That must have been terrifying.”

She shrugs, the movement slight against my chest. “It was freedom. Scary, yeah, but better than what I left behind.”

“How did you survive?” I marvel at her strength.

Ember shifts, reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a small, slightly squashed candle. “With these. I use them to make money now, but they’ve always been more than a way to make money.”

“How do you mean?”

“Watch.” She sits, holding the candle reverently.

In the dim light, her face takes on an almost otherworldly quality. She lights the candle with a match from her pocket.

The flame flickers to life, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Ember’s eyes reflect the light, lost in memory.

“When things got really bad—when I was cold, hungry, or scared—I’d light a candle and watch the flame dance. For a little while, I imagined I was somewhere else. Somewhere warm and safe.”

I watch, transfixed, as Ember loses herself in the flickering light. For a moment, I glimpse the lonely child she must have been, finding solace in this small flame.

“Sometimes,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “I saw things in the flame. My dreams, I guess. A warm home. A family. Safety.” She laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “Stupid, huh?”

I reach out, cupping her face in my hand. “Not stupid at all. You found beauty and hope in the darkest places. That’s incredible.”

She leans into my touch, her eyes meeting mine. There’s a vulnerability there I’ve never seen before.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” I say firmly. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Ember’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, heavy footsteps on the stairs shatter our peaceful moment. Voices drift up, angry and all too familiar.

“I’m tellin’ ya’, they were here. Gimme some more cash, and I’ll show ya’ exactly where.” The drunk from last night. And he’s not alone.

“They better be, you useless drunk. Or you’ll be joining them when we find them.”

Beside me, Ember gasps.

“That’s Bruiser.” Her whisper is barely audible, but the fear in her voice is palpable.