Page 92 of Rescuing Ember

He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Give me what I want, and this all stops. You’ll be free. Ember will be safe. Isn’t that what you want?”

For a moment, the offer is tempting. So tempting, but Ember’s face flashes in my mind—strong, defiant, a survivor. I think of my team and the trust they’ve placed in me.

I meet Wolfe’s gaze, summoning every ounce of defiance left in my battered body.

“Go to hell,” I spit, blood and saliva splattering his immaculate shirt.

Wolfe’s expression darkens. He steps back, straightening his jacket.

“Very well,” he says, voice cold as ice. “Remember this moment, Mr. Hawkins. Remember that you chose this.”

As he sneers at me, a grim certainty settles in my chest—the worst is still ahead.

I say nothing, watching him warily through swollen eyes.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Wolfe repeats himself. “You give me the information I want about your team—their capabilities, methods, and weaknesses—and in return, I grant you your freedom.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in. “And, of course, I ensure Ms. Winters’ safety. She walks away, unharmed.”

The offer hangs in the air, tempting in its simplicity. For a moment, I imagine it—walking out of here, Ember safe by my side, but the tactical part of my brain, honed by years of training and experience, recognizes the trap.

“You must realize,” Wolfe says, his tone almost pitying, “that resistance is futile. You will break eventually. Everyone does. Why suffer needlessly when you could end this now?”

I meet his gaze, summoning what little strength I have left. “Because some things are worth suffering for.”

Wolfe’s eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “Nobility is overrated, Mr. Hawkins. And often fatal.” He straightens his jacket, composing himself. “I’ll give you sometime to reconsider. To truly weigh the consequences of your choice.”

He moves toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Remember, your stubbornness doesn’t just affect you. Ms. Winters’ fate hangs in the balance as well.”

The door closes behind him with an ominous click. I slump in my restraints, every breath a symphony of pain. My mind races, trying to find a way out of this impossible situation.

Minutes pass, or hours. Time loses all meaning. Just as I’m about to slip into unconsciousness, the door opens again.

A guard enters, wheeling in a small TV on a cart. Without a word, he sets it up and turns it on. The screen flickers to life, static resolving into a grainy image that makes my blood run cold.

Ember.

She’s in a room like mine, curled up in the corner. Her face is a mask of terror as the door opens and Wolfe enters, that predatory smile on his face.

A cold realization hits me, almost knocking the breath out of me. Wolfe’s been playing us both, ping-ponging between me and Ember, using every ounce of fear and desperation he can squeeze out of us. My stomach twists, bile rising as I watch him approach her, that same sick satisfaction on his face.

The guard’s cold and emotionless voice cuts through my horror. “The boss says to remember this while you consider his offer.”

The room seems to tilt, my vision narrowing to a tunnel focused solely on Ember’s terrified face. Rage is a living, breathing thing beneath my skin, but I force myself to stay still.

I can’t afford to react. Not yet.

Wolfe wants me to break, to give in. But I can’t. I won’t. Not while Ember is still counting on me.

The guard leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. I’m alone with the image of Ember, vulnerable and afraid, with Wolfe circling her like a shark scenting blood.

Rage and fear war within me. The need to protect Ember clashes violently with my duty to my team. I strain against my restraints, knowing it’s useless but unable to stop myself.

As I watch Wolfe approach Ember, her eyes widen with fear. The image burns into my mind.

THIRTY-TWO

Ember

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