Page 53 of Trapped Truth

Craning over me, Blaine bears down on the protruding blade, watching in satisfaction as more liquid crimson bubbles up. The assailant’s out-of-control, frenzied screaming intensifies to inhuman proportions.

“I am the Madden dynasty now.”

Lightly touching my shoulder, Axel peers down at us, his face ashen. I muster up an attempt at a smile that feels a lot more like a grimace. He’s pushed aside for hospital security to enter, a burly man in all-black offering me a hand up from the floor.

“Don’t touch her,” Blaine warns icily. “Here, sweetheart. Let me help you.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.”

“I don’t care. He won’t see the light of day again.”

The security swarm over our attacker instead, leaving Blaine free to carry me over to the medical bed where Axel anxiously awaits. He places me down then immediately puts pressure on my thigh, causing me to yelp.

“I’m so sorry,” Axel rushes out all at once. “I tried to find the gun, and then the door and⁠—”

“Breathe.” I clasp his bicep.

“I’m so fucking useless!”

“You’re still injured,” Blaine mutters curtly, ignoring Axel’s distress. “We need a doctor in here. Now.”

I should be concerned by the heavy flow soaking through his hands and spilling over the cotton sheets, but all my attention is fixed on the slumped body I’ve left behind. Barely breathing. Probably not for long.

“He w-works for your father,” I gasp out.

“Yes,” Blaine confirms. “An assassin.”

“How d-did he know where to find us?”

With medical staff running in to assist, his obsidians meet mine.

“Someone on the inside.”

CHAPTER 10

BLAINE

SOLO DOLO (NIGHTMARE) - KID CUDI

The façade of the disused warehouse is nondescript. Unassuming. To most, it looks abandoned. Exactly the impression we want to give. The less imposing our boltholes are, the less likely we’ll be found.

If Spyder disapproves of the entourage I’m bringing into our latest base of operations, he doesn’t admit it. I’d have his tongue for less. No one dares to protest the sombre group trailing behind me with Ember limping along at the rear in Hyland’s protective embrace.

“Trouble, boss?” Spyder drops his cigarette then crushes it with his boot.

“You could say that. Where is Raye?”

“In the office going over this week’s exports.”

“Good. Send a couple of rats out to keep watch then join us there. We have important business to discuss.”

“Loud and clear.” He flashes his teeth at the team in a not-so friendly manner. “Hello again.”

Gun cocked, Warner boasts a wearisome frown. “Control your guard dog, Blaine. I’d hate to put a bullet in the wrong person’s face.”

“Rude,” Spyder remarks.

“Don’t mind him,” I dismiss. “It’s been a long day.”