Page 67 of Fractured Future
“There was a doctor. He worked for the cartel.”
My eyes remain fixed to the conference table. Beads of water condensate on my glass, rolling down the clear surface to pool on the table. Each rivulet sparkles like an individual teardrop.
Warner audibly clears his throat. “Were you tested?”
“Not for… that.”
The entire room seems to draw in a collective breath.
“But all of us had examinations, measurements taken, questions asked. They wanted to know anything they could use to market us to their buyers.”
“They did that to you?” Warner clarifies.
All I can do is nod, my voice failing.
“Em…”
“Don’t say anything.” I look up to cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“That’s fine, Em. Take a breath for me.”
Fingers anxiously twisting together, I fight back flashes of the doctor’s thin lips, beady eyes and hooked nose. He looked like a rat. A revolting, invasive rat. The kind that bites to kill.
Giving me a few moments to steady myself, Warner ceases notetaking so he can watch me breathe. I struggle to lift the water glass in my trembling hand to sip, but thankfully, no one mentions it.
“Okay,” I grit out. “Let’s continue.”
“We will track down Gracie’s identity and get in touch with her family.” Warner quickly moves on. “It won’t be hard to correlate missing persons reports with your intel.”
“I don’t know if she’s still alive.”
“I’m sure they will want an update regardless.”
All I have to offer is another nod. If I speak, I’m scared every last shameful taunt my mind is whispering at me will come flooding out. How I failed Gracie. Left her to be ripped apart by animals. And never returned.
It doesn’t matter that I spent all that time fighting my own war. She needed someone to keep her safe, and I promised to do that. I promised I wouldn’t leave her alone. Now I have to live with the knowledge that I abandoned her.
“Em?” Tom murmurs to me. “Do you need to stop?”
“No. Keep going.”
Reaching for the water again, I take several more gulps. The distant thuds of where Axel’s feet knock into the ground as his legs jiggle fills the silence. He can never seem to sit still.
“Tell us about Blaine Madden,” Warner redirects to safer ground.
“You already know what happened.”
Warner gestures towards the voice recorder between us. “For the record.”
Placing my glass down, I lace my fingers together then drop my chin on top to hold my head up. “Fine.”
Tom continues jotting notes in a legal notepad between worried glances in my direction. He’s on his third black coffee already. Hyland has remained silent from his perch in the corner, staring at his scuffed boots.
Sabre’s newest recruit—bald-headed Archer with his intense silence and cutting gaze—joined us yesterday. I’m relieved he isn’t here today to study my every move. He’s an odd guy.
“Blaine intercepted me in the changing room after my last fight.” I lick my dry lips. “His team had taken out my trainer, Carlos. They paid off security to allow us to slip away from the club.”
“Carlos?” Warner tilts his head.
