Page 43 of Trapped Truth

“I didn’t just work for the cartel.” He raises a shoulder. “Perhaps our experiences align more closely than you think. Trust me, you’re going to need every hand you can get.”

We assess each other. Both calculating. Surveying for any cracks in the armour we both constructed to endure this shadowy underworld. When I move to stand, Gunnar doesn’t shift. He merely watches me turn to leave with a blank expression.

“This decision isn’t up to me,” I tell him over my shoulder.

“I’m aware. But whoever’s watching on that camera feed has the power to make the right choice.”

“Then you better pray they’re feeling merciful. If it were up to me, I’d lock you up and throw away the key for daring to hurt what’s mine.”

As I knock on the door to be buzzed out, my neck cranes to spare Gunnar one last look. He hasn’t moved. Part of me hates how nonchalant he appears. The rest is reluctantly impressed.

“Do you have a message for Axel?”

His tongue darts out, skating over his top lip. I patiently wait, but he simply shakes his head in defeat.

“It’s too late for us, Ember.”

“I can safely say I know your twin far better than you do. Axel is many things, but he has the biggest heart of us all. It’ll never be too late for you two.”

With that, I leave The Hunter to his imprisonment, nothing but stunned silence following me out.

CHAPTER 8

AXEL

HOW’S IT GOING TO BE - THIRD EYE BLIND

Awkwardly seated at the marble breakfast bar, my sloppy chopping skills are being eyed by an ever-vigilant Hyland. I’m surprised he let me out of bed long enough to help cook. Though I would escape any attempt he makes to hold me hostage, I’d still like to see him try.

“Can you at least try to make the basil finer?” He grimaces at my half-assed work.

“Dude, you’re asking for too much. I’m injured, remember?”

“I didn’t ask for your help, remember?”

“Ungrateful ass. I’m bored!”

“So you’re annoying me instead?”

“Exactly,” I drawl around a smile.

Eyes rolling, he returns to stirring the bolognese sauce bubbling on the stovetop. The entire apartment is filled with rich, fragrant aromas. I don’t know who taught the big oaf their secret recipe, but I’m sure as fuck going to devour it.

Tackling the next pile of herbs waiting to be diced, I focus on breaking down the green stalks rather than spiralling into thoughts of what my insane mirror image is possibly doing right now. Probably pacing his cell while spinning another wild scheme to buy his freedom.

In my aggravation, the kitchen knife slips, and I almost take my index finger off. Hyland pauses to watch when I loudly curse, slamming the blade down and shoving the board aside.

“I give up. You don’t want my help? Fine. Chop it yourself.”

“Woah, pup. Take a breath.”

“I can’t fucking do it!”

Brows furrowed, he swipes the board to resume chopping in between giving me worried looks. “What’s going on with you?”

I let my head drop into my palms, ignoring how every little movement makes my abdomen twinge. These stitches are driving me up the wall.

“Gunnar tried to kill me. Then the crazy bastard saves my life… after being the one to endanger it. And now he wants to cut some kinda deal to do what? Help us? My head is spinning.”