Page 110 of Fractured Future
“Get your ass off that floor, Ember Lawson,” he says sternly. “That’s an order.”
Muttering under my breath, I take his hand then find my feet. The oversized t-shirt I was sleeping in gathers around my striped sleep shorts, but he keeps his gaze firmly locked on my face.
“I’m up!” I grumble. “Satisfied?”
“Fucking thrilled. Come with me.”
Rather than releasing my hand, Warner entwines his fingers with mine. It feels strange, like we’re breaking some invisible rule that was set long ago. Yet his tight grip doesn’t relent.
I follow him from the bedroom, shielding my eyes from the light filling the long hallway. While soft and understated, it still temporarily blinds me this late at night.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” I offer.
“Don’t be. I was already awake.”
“Why?”
Warner steers me into the kitchen, pausing to slip the gun he carries into a console unit before flipping on the under-counter lights.
“Axel’s following up a lead from Stillwell. I wanted to be awake if he called in for backup.”
A quiver makes my muscles twitch. “What kind of lead?”
“We don’t need to talk about this now.”
When he eventually releases me, I lean against the marble counter. “Tell me.”
Warner walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of milk and what looks like several bars of dark chocolate. He moves to locate a saucepan from the drawer next to the stove.
“Stillwell couldn’t confirm any of the identified players you’ve named. I figure he’s too low in the chain of command for that kind of knowledge.”
“We knew that was a possibility.” I try not to sound disappointed.
“Granted, but he did offer us a juicy tidbit at the offer of a new prison cell that isn’t infested with rats and mould.”
“You’re seriously bribing him?”
“Gently encouraging,” he corrects while lighting a burner. “It did the trick. He’s desperate to give us something after a few months in that shit-hole prison.”
Realising what he’s doing, I move to his side so I can begin breaking up the chocolate. It’s been a long time since we made his fancy version of hot chocolate together, but Warner knows I can’t resist anything sweet.
“What did he give you?”
“There used to be a biweekly meeting that takes place outside the city with other operatives.” He pours milk into the saucepan to heat. “Axel is checking it out.”
“Other operatives?”
“There are more honeypots working for Gael. These people operate as a network. They coordinate their hits. Plot, scheme and target women on mass.”
Nearly dropping several chunks of chocolate, I make myself take a deep breath. These are the sickos providing victims to the market—the same market that Gael uses to feed his exploitative trafficking machine.
Just thinking about them all huddled together, listing off their hits and relishing in the earnings they will provide makes me want to break into the prison and cut Stillwell’s face off.
“Axel’s gone to track these other honeypots down?” I grit out. “They may be long gone.”
“Perhaps.”
Locating a wooden spoon, Warner begins to gently stir the milk. He appears calm as ever while I’m internally spiralling at this revelation.
