Page 78 of Fractured Future
Ember: Then go eat, duh.
Axel: Warner’s making me comb through maps of rural estates that fit your description. I’ve been staring at the screen for eleven hours.
Jolting upright, my thumbs race across the screen.
Ember: You found anything?
Axel: Nah. I’m gonna hand this over to the intelligence department.
Ember: Why didn’t you do that in the first place?
Axel: I stuck a printout of Hyland’s face on my target in the shooting range. Warner got pissed, and he knows I hate desk work.
Trying to drum up a response, I’m struggling to find adequate words. I’ve heard little from Hyland or Warner since we wrapped up my exhausting interviews.
While Warner investigates and Axel flirts, the complicated grump remains on security detail. I haven’t ventured out much, but he’s always there if I do, providing a constant shadow at a respectful distance.
Another message arrives.
Axel: Talk to meeeee.
Axel: I can still taste you on my lips.
Ignoring him, I drop the phone onto my stomach. His suggestion that I join their ranks and put my skills to good use is intriguing, but given their radio silence, I gather it didn’t go down well with the others.
I’m not sure how much longer I can sit around, watching bruises fade from purple to yellow, itching to do something but stew. Literally anything.
When my phone buzzes again, I pick it back up with an annoyed sigh. Axel’s a classic double-texter. AKA, he’s a needy little fuck. Though I’d never admit to him that I quite like it.
Unknown number: How are the stitches healing, sweetheart?
A cold flush of recognition sweeps over me. Surely not. This is a brand-new number with encrypted text messages, courtesy of Sabre’s programming. No one can find it. Especially not him.
Another message comes through.
Unknown number: Come to Unit 17b, Albatross Industries.
“Shit!” I jolt upright.
That ridiculous, aristocratic accent swims through my mind, calling mesweetheartbefore the psycho flung me out the back of the van. It’s Blaine Madden.
There’s a chance that someone else is trying to lure me in. I don’t know who would know about his ridiculously British pet name, but I can’t be too careful right now.
Ember: How do I know this is you?
It’s a few tense minutes before two back-to-back texts arrive.
Unknown number: I told you I’d be more of a gentleman next time.
Unknown number: Find me.
Indecision is a warring force, but the possibility of information seals my choice. I’ve been tearing myself to bloody shreds while battling night terrors and trying to be patient for two weeks.
No more.
Quickly dressing in the sports bra and workout leggings I found in a box of old work clothes, I throw my hair into a high ponytail before shoving my spare cash into my bra.
I’m twitching all over, full of anticipation and nerves. I have no idea what Blaine’s intentions are, but if he wanted to harm me, he had ample opportunity. Instead, he saved my life.
