Page 157 of Trapped Truth

“Fuck, love!” I continue prodding and poking, scouring every inch of her body.

Terror like I’ve never experienced rockets into every available nerve ending. Now I’m trembling. Almost too much to assess her body, searching for where she was hit. She won’t have long. We have to stop the bleeding.

But… there’s no blood.

Not a single drop.

Hands coasting over her chest, my index finger snags in a ragged hole torn straight through her black T-shirt and into the Kevlar hidden underneath. Somewhere nestled in the layers of protection, a lodged bullet rests, an inch away from piercing her heart.

Relief almost whites out my vision. “It didn’t penetrate your armour.”

“Really?” she grits out.

“Really. I can see the bullet.”

“Still h-hurts.”

“I know. You’re going to be okay, love.”

Ember lifts a hand to coast over my cheek. “I guess I have a lot to live for.”

“Hell yeah, you do. Never scare me like that again.”

Too overwhelmed to do more than hold her, I’m non-verbal as Hyland clatters to his knees beside us in a flurry of panicked horror. He too checks the faux wound then deflates, paler than I’ve ever seen him before.

“You fucking madwoman!”

“Blaine.” She arches her neck, searching for him. “W-Where?”

“Right here, sweetheart.”

The asshole himself reaches our location, two still-cuffed hands lowering to cup Ember’s cheeks. He plants frantic, near-frenzied kisses all over her lips and face, apparently fresh out of fucks to give.

“You promised,” Ember gasps between kisses. “Everyone comes home.”

“I had no intention of leaving you. Just didn’t expect you to beat me to the punch.”

“N-Nolan?”

“Bleeding but subdued,” Axel calls out. “You clipped his shoulder, dimples.”

“I was aiming for his head,” she groans in disappointment.

“I reckon he’ll live. For now.”

Across the carpet, Nolan Madden is barely conscious, pinned by Axel in a helpless heap. He doesn’t bother to staunch the blood pouring from his shoulder, though he does rest a foot over it. Nolan hurtling back into reality with lung-tearing howl of agony is far too satisfying.

“Finish the job?” I meet Blaine’s gaze.

His eyes tear from mine to scan his mother, still caught in Azrael’s arms. He smiles openly at her, even if she’s too distraught to return it right now. In that moment, I witness something inside him irrevocably change.

His dark gaze clears, scanning over us with more emotion than I’ve ever seen on his face before. The last pieces of The Phantom melt away, revealing someone younger hiding underneath. Someone more innocent. Hopeful, even. And a hell of a lot more whole.

Blaine shakes his head. “He deserves to answer for his crimes. All of them.”

“What?” Axel pouts at him.

“Don’t kill him.”