Page 105 of Trapped Truth

“Clear!” I shout.

Gunnar sticks close to me, his gun poised to mow down any unwelcome surprises. Together we head for the next vehicle, but it seems like Blaine has already checked it. There’s nothing inside but ashes and crisped-up boxes that once held supplies.

It’s an eerie scene, observing the clues that fill in the time it took us to arrive. The place looks like it was firebombed. Hard, fast and brutal. Then their getaway cars were doused and set alight for good measure.

The thought that Nolan Madden could do something so heinous to people who once worked for him makes me want to hurl. In his mind, I’m sure Blaine’s crew are traitors. But a surprise attack with no opportunity for escape is downright inhumane.

Through the approaching squeal of multiple sirens, urgency pushes me onward to catch up to Blaine. The third and final van is in better shape. A little smoke-damaged with blown-out tyres and caved-in windows, but still semi-intact.

“Blaine!”

“He went around.” Gunnar juts his chin towards where he last saw him.

“Stick close. I don’t like how exposed we are.”

“I’m not leaving your side, 768.”

We sneak around the vehicle on light feet, prepared for anything. Only there’s no masked assailants or array of trained guns awaiting to ambush us on the other side. No, it’s far worse than that.

On his knees, Blaine crouches over something twisted and limp. It takes a breathless moment for me to process the scene. His body trembles while his hands hover mid-air, seemingly unsure what to touch first.

“Blaine?” I whisper, fear making it even harder to breathe than the smoke-clogged air.

Shoulders curved down, his head falls. “We’re too late.”

“It’s a body,” Gunnar says in a whisper.

Creeping forward only confirms the truth. Against the side of the van, the gnarled object isn’t an object at all. Skin—bloodied and blackened from fire—is revealed through haphazardly torn clothing.

And pink hair.

Bright. Crimson-soaked.

Unmistakable.

My limbs lock tight, growing roots to ensnare me in place. Any closer, and I know I’ll see her face, slack and lifeless. A woman who enjoyed making my life hellish whenever possible, but a human being nonetheless.

“Oh, Raye.” Blaine smooths down her singed, pink hair. “I’m so sorry.”

A hand nudges my arm. “Go to him, I’ll cover you both.”

Words fail to rise as I leave Gunnar to defend us and approach the heartbreaking scene. Blown, glassy eyes peer up at me from beneath a tangle of blood-caked hair. She’s already gone. Not a single sign of life.

“The evil bastard left her here for me to find.” Clasping her limp hand, Blaine shakes his head. “Propped up like some fucking trophy of his success.”

“Bla—”

“I did this! I let my people down!”

At the lightning crack in his raw voice, a full breakdown advances into position. The shakes develop into body tremors as Blaine seems to cave inwards, his whole posture slumped over the corpse of a friend he entrusted his whole life to.

My legs buckle, carrying me to the ground at his side. I don’t know where to touch, what to say or do. Not for this. Mere inches away, Raye’s ragdoll body stares at us in clear accusation.

You’ve failed.

It’s all I can do to rest my hand on top of Blaine’s shaking fist, now marked with Raye’s still-wet blood.

“He’ll pay,” I swear, quiet but firm. “We’ll avenge her.”