Page 96 of Rescuing Ember

He hesitates, his hand straying to his radio. I hold my breath, every muscle tensed despite my act of weakness.

“Fine.” He backs toward the door. “But if this is a trick?—”

“No tricks.” I slump against the wall, the image of defeat. “I’m done fighting.”

The door clicks shut. Through the walls, I hear his radio crackle to life. My heart pounds as I wait, each second an eternity.

Come on,I silently plead.Take the bait.

Footsteps approach. Multiple sets. Heavy and purposeful.

The door swings open.

Wolfe enters like he owns the air itself, flanked by two guards. His suit jacket is gone, sleeves rolled up. His presence is suffocating, an aura of menace that seems to sap the oxygen from the room.

The bruises on my face throb in time with my racing pulse, each beat a reminder of the danger before me.

“I hear you’re feeling—cooperative.” His voice is a silk-covered blade, suspicion lacing the amusement, the words cutting deeper than any weapon.

I force myself upright, ignoring the sharp protests of my broken ribs. “I want to talk.”

“About?”

“You said what matters is my future. What did you mean?”

“What do you think I meant?” Interest flickers in his winter-gray eyes, cold and calculating.

“You want me, but why? And to do what?”

“Yes, I do, my little flame. I want you very much.” His smile is cruel, a predator’s satisfaction in seeing his prey cornered.

“Blaze walks.” My voice doesn’t waver. “Free and clear. No pursuit, no revenge.”

“Bargaining with the devil?” His lips curl into a mocking smile, teeth glinting in the dim light. “Is that all you want? Not your freedom?”

“We both know that was never an option.” I meet his gaze steadily, letting him see the resignation he expects.

Wolfe circles me, his cologne overpowering in the tight space. The sweet, cloying stench turns my stomach. He revels in the power imbalance, his control over the space and over me.

“You will be the perfect soldier, forged in fire and hardened by pain. My crowning achievement.” His fingers ghost over my shoulder, the light touch making my skin crawl, the promise of pain lingering beneath. “But why should I believe you’ll trade your life for his?”

I turn to face him, letting him see the darkness I usually hide. The ruthless survivor.

“The streets, the system—they made me hard. Made me dangerous.” My lips twist in a bitter smile. “You said it yourself. I was forged in fire. Pain is nothing new.”

“And Blaze?” Wolfe’s eyes narrow, calculating, the amusement fading to cold scrutiny. “You’d sacrifice your—attachment?”

“Attachment is weakness,” I echo his words, cold and devoid of emotion. “You taught me that, even if I didn’t want to learn.”

Silence stretches between us, taut as a tripwire, the tension thick enough to choke on. Wolfe’s gaze pierces mine, searching for deception or any hint of rebellion.

I don’t blink. Don’t flinch. I let him see exactly what he wants.

Absolute defeat.

“If I accept…” he says, each word deliberate, a test. “There’s no going back. No second chances. One hint of betrayal?—”

“And you’ll kill him.” I nod, resolute. “I know.”

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