Page 94 of Rescuing Ember

The screen flickers to life, and my heart stutters, a painful, ragged beat against my broken ribs.

Blaze.

He’s strapped to a chair, his face a mask of blood and bruises. One eye swollen shut, his jaw clenched in defiance. Despite it all, even beaten, he radiates a strength that makes my chest ache. They haven’t broken him.

Not yet.

“Quite resilient, your Mr. Hawkins,” Wolfe murmurs, his fingers hovering over the screen as he switches the camera angle.

My stomach twists as the image shifts. Bruiser, looming over Blaze, brass knuckles glinting in the dim light. He circles Blaze like a predator, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Everyone breaks eventually, my little flame. The human body can only endure so much. The mind…” Wolfe taps his temple, a cold smile curving his lips. “Especially when someone they care about is suffering.”

As if on cue, Blaze’s body jerks, his face contorting in agony, his muscles straining against the restraints. The lack of sound makes it worse—my mind fills in the gaps, supplying the screams, the desperate gasps of pain.

“You’re lying,” I whisper, but the words are hollow and devoid of conviction.

Wolfe tilts his head, amused, and taps the phone. Another video. Blaze, screaming my name, his body convulsing as electricity courses through him.

“Am I?” Wolfe’s voice is a dagger, twisting slowly. “How long do you think he’ll last? How much more will he endure—for you?”

For me?

My chest constricts, every breath a battle against the weight crushing down on me. Blaze, protecting me. Believing in me. Trusting me. And now he’s paying for that trust, suffering because of me.

“Attachment is weakness, my little flame. You make him weak.”

Silence stretches between us, taut and suffocating. Wolfe’s eyes bore into mine, searching for a crack, a flicker of weakness. I force myself to remain still, my gaze unwavering, letting him see only what he wants to see.

Wolfe slips the phone back into his pocket, as if he hadn’t just shattered the last vestiges of my hope. Without a word, he turns on his heel, his polished shoes clicking softly against thecracked concrete as he walks away. The door closes behind him with a quiet, chilling finality, leaving me alone with the echoes of Blaze’s pain and my spiraling thoughts.

The image of Blaze, defiant even as his body betrays him, burns itself into my mind. Rage coils tighter in my chest, hot and volatile, fighting against the helplessness. My nails bite into my palms, drawing blood. The room feels smaller, the air suffocating.

What am I going to do?

Silence follows Wolfe’s departure, broken only by the distant hum of ancient pipes. My body throbs in time with my heartbeat, each pulse a reminder that I’m still alive.

The hours drag, each one stretching endlessly as pain seeps deeper into my bones. My thoughts drift, the cold concrete beneath me offering no comfort, just a harsh reminder of my reality. I focus on my breathing, shallow and ragged, as exhaustion weighs down on me.

The light beyond the window fades, the room plunging into a dim, oppressive gloom. Each minute is an eternity, the waiting gnawing at me, twisting fear and helplessness into something darker.

Voices drift through the walls—guards stationed outside. Their words blur, filtering through my pain-dulled senses.

“—breaking him down slow. Boss wants him to suffer.”

“Hear what happened in the last session? Hawkins still wouldn’t crack, even after?—”

The conversation fades as footsteps pass, then picks up again.

“—got some new toys to try out. Boss says we start again in an hour.”

“Shame about the girl, though. The boss seems sweet on her.”

A bark of laughter. “Sweet? More like obsessed. You saw his face when she?—”

Their voices fade again, but the words spark something in my mind. Wolfe’s obsession. His need for control.

The way he looked at me like a possession.

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