Page 32 of Trapped Truth

Our pursuers disappear into the distance as we exit the main road and take a hard left, carrying us away from the scene of the crime.

“Where are we going?”

“Keep driving.” Blaine’s stark order heats the blood already simmering in my veins. “I don’t trust your precious company. We need real backup.”

“What’s that supposed to mea⁠—”

Two beeps of a horn blare through the darkness, alerting me to another vehicle’s arrival. It’s an old rust bucket on wheels, the doors of the peeling van marked with a faded company logo I can’t make out.

“What now?” Hyland clutches his door, watching their approach.

In the tense silence, a ringtone seems to startle us all. Blaine retrieves his phone once more then answers.

“Nice wheels,” he murmurs into it. “Couldn’t have found something a bit sturdier?”

Whoever’s on the other end shouts back what sounds like a whole host of expletives. When the van follows at a safe distance without attempting to intimidate us, the penny drops.

It’s his people.

Hyland rubs his temples. “Looks like we have a criminal escort home.”

“Maybe we need it.” I work on unlatching my aching jaw.

“How can you approve of this?”

“No one knew our route back to London, only the agents working in HQ. If it was leaked, then Blaine’s right; Sabre has been compromised.”

It’s a long moment until Hyland summons a response.

“Well, fuck.”

CHAPTER 6

EMBER

CLARITY - LERION & CVSS

Not even the familiar scent of my own bedsheets can stop my heart from racing to the beat of a gruelling marathon sprint. With a hiss, I roll over in bed, stuffing my pillow to reposition my head more comfortably.

It doesn’t help that my skull is pounding with a fierce headache. I was lucky to have access to my medication in Briar Valley as we brought all our supplies from the raid, but it’s still been a suspiciously long time since my last episode hit.

“Go to sleep,” I hiss to myself. “Just sleep. Shut your eyes. Count some sheep.”

It’s the same mantra I’ve repeated since we stumbled home in the dusk, exhausted and wrung-out after hours of recounting the Estonia operation for the official record. Most of the details have already been provided to Kade and Hudson. Still, we had to endure the formality of a debrief.

Our return to HQ to discuss next steps—including Blaine’s teammates and their worrying intel—looms in a matter of hours. The impending countdown isn’t enough to make me feel remotely sleepy. I’m wound tighter than an industrial spring ready to snap.

“Goddammit!”

Just as I’m about to call it quits and get up, a creak in the corridor sets me on high alert. I shove a hand under my mountain of pillows to finger the switchblade stashed there. Another creak, then the door to my room quietly clicks open.

Jackknifing up in the bed, I’ve pulled the blade free and cocked it, ready to slice my intruder’s face off, when a low chuckle breaks the tension.

“Are you going to stab me, sweetheart?”

“For fuck’s sake, Blaine!”

Illuminated by a faint light, he lingers in the doorway. Smirking, obviously.