Page 22 of Trapped Truth

Warner ends the phone call, his shoulders deflating as he rests his forehead on the steering wheel.

“What did the directors say?” I dare to ask.

“Nolan Madden’s on the move.”

“Wait, what? Says who?”

“Apparently, they’ve been in contact with Blaine’s people; that pink-haired chick and the big dude with the weird name reached out with intel.”

“Raye and Spyder?”

He nods solemnly.

Not blinking, I stare at him for a moment. “You’re not serious.”

“They made contact, that’s all I know.”

“To what end?”

“Perhaps we should be asking their leader that question,” he grumbles. “If Blaine haggled himself a plea deal and Sabre’s protection, maybe they want the same thing.”

Granting Blaine clemency is one thing. Sabre was already toeing a line by bringing him into the fold a few months ago. But willingly using his connections and conspiring with his allies crosses some serious legal and ethical lines.

“I don’t understand what the directors are thinking by trusting them. They might’ve helped us in Estonia, but their allegiance is certainly not to Sabre.”

“I suppose the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He straightens, scraping a hand along his jaw. “The Madden empire is embedded in London’s criminal underworld. It makes sense to bring his subordinates onside.”

“Do you think Blaine knows?”

“Perhaps they haven’t been able to reach him out here and decided to contact Sabre instead. I suppose we’ll find out.”

“If his father is officially on the move, Blaine needs to know. We’re going to be under fire from all angles.”

Warner tosses the phone into the cupholder. “Madden’s recruiting loyal supporters, offering to pay handsomely.”

“Pay for what?” Unease swirls through my belly.

“Muscle, protection. Bodies on the ground. If he’s really coming back to London, he’ll be making a play for the throne. That would involve an all-out challenge to his son’s rule.”

Staring out the front window, I contemplate the snow-swollen skies like they hold the answer to all our problems. We knew Madden would make his first move on the chessboard soon enough. But stepping into our territory? That’s bold. Even for a man of his calibre.

Warner throws the borrowed truck into gear to begin our descent. “We have to leave. It’s time to go home.”

“I think you’re right.”

“A bit of peace and quiet was nice while it lasted, though, huh?”

The drive down the mountain is fraught with tense silence. We make it through the spiralling snowflakes to re-enter town without skidding too much. The truck’s tyres are adorned with thick chains, steeling it against winter’s onslaught.

“Drop me at Willow’s cabin. I need to speak to her before we leave.”

“Now?” Warner turns to peer at me, a divot between his brows

“Yeah, I’m all packed. Didn’t bring much to begin with.”

“True.” He chuckles without humour. “I need to get Axel prepped to move. He can walk to the bathroom alone now, but enduring a long journey south is another matter.”

“Can’t we take a jet?”