Page 110 of Trapped Truth

“She was my second in command!” Blaine lashes out.

“You didn’t put her in harm’s way.”

“Yet she’s still dead!”

Watching him splinter apart at the seams unravels my sanity faster than I care to admit. Blaine’s always cool. Calm. Our calculating, strategised force of nature. Grief and turmoil have turned him inside out.

“Fine.” I roll back my shoulders. “You want to hit something? Let’s spar.”

He cuts me a disbelieving glance. “I’m not going to hit you.”

“What makes you think I’d let you?”

“Not a chance. You were seizing on the floor not so long ago.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get this rage out so you can sleep. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve fought.”

“Blaine’s right,” Axel calls out. “You’re in no shape.”

“I’m perfectly capable!”

“And I’m not risking it.” Blaine’s voice flatlines.

In the resultant silence, a plate clatters, then footsteps near our position. Gunnar wipes crumbs from his chin, eyeing Blaine like a piece of meat he’d happily sink his teeth into.

“I’ll fight you.”

“You?” Blaine recoils.

“What? You afraid?”

“You’re no challenge to me, Hunter.”

“Then you have nothing to fear.” Gunnar winks at him. “Let’s go.”

Rubbing my tired eyes, I heave a sigh. “This was a bad idea.”

In the kitchen, Axel chuckles, watching the men appraise each other. “You suggested it.”

“Clearly I’m sleep deprived and making poor decisions.”

After a terse nod, Blaine pushes the coffee table across the living room floor to clear a space. Then he shoves part of the large sectional to one side, creating a barrier with the newly replaced television. The original one didn’t survive the last fight to take place in this penthouse.

When it becomes obvious I’m not going to dissuade them, I retreat to Axel’s side to pour myself a fresh drink. I’ll need it to watch this unfold. Axel seems to have the same realisation as he fixes himself a whiskey.

Gunnar removes his guns and Sabre-issued protective gear, now free to crack his neck from side to side. By comparison, Blaine is already stripped down and prepared, his clothing still stained with dried blood.

“Perhaps we should have some ground rules?” Axel suggests.

Both men decline at the same time.

“Or not,” Ax mutters.

“Is this going to end in someone’s death?” I wince at the spectacle.

“Unclear. I’ll put twenty quid on Gunnar, though.”

“Brotherly solidarity?”