Page 78 of Ravaged Soul
Coffee in hand, Hyland towers over me. It’s almost intimidating. He’s a solid wall of muscle, standing between me and the world’s dangers, but sometimes, I wonder if the biggest threat lies within him.
“I’m only going to say this once, Ember. You’reours. And we are not in competition with Blaine fucking Madden.”
Delicious treacle pulsates through me at his possessive words. Fuck, I want to be theirs. It’s all I’ve wanted for a long time. But frankly, we do not need any distractions or in-fighting right now.
“Isn’t our current predicament a little bigger than your ridiculous rivalry with Blaine? He’s part of this investigation. You need to put everything else aside.”
Hyland slurps his coffee with a heavy grimace. “People like Madden are the reason why we have to investigate. Just because he sold drugs and not people doesn’t make him any different.”
“He’s atoning for his father’s sins.”
“He’s cashing in on an opportunity to clear his name and remove a threat to his enterprise,” Hyland corrects haughtily.
“Do you really believe that’s all he’s here for?”
For a millisecond, I can see conflict flash in his olive spheres. “Yes.”
“Now who’s the shit liar?”
Grimacing at me, Hyland stomps off towards the elevators, leaving me to catch up to him while swallowing a handful of painkillers. He holds his silence for the journey back to the ICU, a stormy frown fixed in place.
While I don’t understand Blaine or his motives at the best of times, he isn’t like the monsters we’re chasing. Not by a long shot. If Hyland could stop seeing threats all around him, he wouldn’t spend his life perpetually afraid of the past repeating itself.
Back in Tom’s hospital room, Warner is pacing up and down in front of the windows with his phone pressed to his ear. I’m checking on Tom as Hyland sets down the bags when Warner’s curse draws me to his worried stare.
“How many photographs? Are they dated?”
The colour drains from his face, blue eyes darkening with a look of rage.
“Can the techs confirm that?”
I place my coffee down on the bedside table to cross my arms over my lurching stomach.
“Alright, I’ll tell her. Start analysing the images for any locations or spatial context. We’ll be there soon.”
With the phone call finished, Warner drags a hand down his weary face. His short, silver-streaked hair is as rumpled as his dark clothing, far from the pristine professionalism he usually exudes.
“What is it?” I almost don’t want to ask.
“Madden opened the package.”
Hyland spits a cuss. “Of course he did.”
“It appears to be some kind of taunt,” Warner continues grimly. “The parcel’s full of polaroid photos. All recently dated.”
“Photos… of who?”
His hesitation unfurls a dread-filled infestation inside me. The blood-sucking creatures take flight in my veins and almost knock me off-kilter after days of emotional exhaustion.
“Warner?”
“I’m sorry, Em.” He scratches at his stubble-covered jaw.
“Who is in the photos?”
Wincing, he looks outside then back to me.
“Gracie. She’s alive.”
