Page 42 of Trapped Truth

“She’s spent two decades behind bars for you,” I taunt, watching his vein throb. “Axel has spent his whole life living a lie. But somehow, you’re the victim in all this. At least in your own mind, right?”

When his mouth clicks open like he’s going to respond, I lean my elbows on the metal table, prepared for whatever barb he may throw. Only it never comes. He merely stares and holds his tongue.

“Of course.” My laugh sounds grating even to my own ears. “You won’t deny it. Even knowing what your brother did to keep you safe, the unthinkable things he was forced to do. Do you care at all?”

A flush creeps over his skin, carrying rage I’m longing to rip out and wrestle with my bare hands. Just a little further. If I twist that knife deeply enough, he’ll reward me with first blood.

“No. You only cared about some childish sense of revenge. Against the wrong person, no less. You might’ve chosen the right side in the end, but that won’t save you. Not from your crimes.”

A pin drop would sound like a bomb going off in the silence of the room, but when Gunnar inhales sharply, I almost betray my surprise at getting a reaction.

“Save me?” Each syllable he croaks out is harsh and strained. “Y-You think I want to be saved?”

The camera tucked into the upper corner blinks, recording each word, a reminder that Hudson and Doctor Richards are assessing my progress.

“What do you want then?”

With a curled lip, he glances around the empty cell. “Spend your whole life living a lie, and all you want, all you have left… is the truth.”

“What truth, Gunnar? I press urgently.

“Mine.”

A kaleidoscope of different emotions seem to invade his face, all warring to take the front seat now that they have permission to rise. Muscles twitch. Teeth grind. Brows pull together then reform. The competing reactions flash then fade faster than I can process his internal battle.

“So tell me what you want,” I demand, hands braced on the table.

Gunnar leans forward to bring our gazes level.

“To live a life I choose, not one bought and booked by the next customer to hire my services. I want to stop running. I want the world to know where I came from and who I am.” He pauses, thoughtful. “I want to hurt those who made me into this person in the first place because, Ember… I never stood a fucking chance.”

With a deep sigh, I sit back in my seat. “You want salvation.”

“No.” His head snaps from side to side in denial. “I want absolution.”

“Forgiveness? That’s what this is about?”

“I don’t care about what I’ve done to make it this far.” Gunnar spits out the words like they’re distasteful. “Much like you, 768. Survival isn’t an act of grace. What I want is to use my unique skill set to fight for the right side.”

I knew it.

He wants a fucking pardon.

Swinging a plea deal for Blaine was hard enough with his rap sheet. Gunnar’s record? I’m sure it makes our resident gang leader look like a singing choir boy by comparison. He’s a downright lethal force.

The kind of force we could use right about now.

Gunnar adjusts himself in his seat, seeming to get comfortable while watching me process. I have no doubt Hudson is turning the proposition over in his own mind on the other side of the glass.

“You could’ve asked for this from the moment you arrived. Why wait until now?”

“Because now you’re desperate.” He quirks a single brow. “It’s written all over your face. We both know how this world works, and regardless of borders or seas, retaliation is coming for you.”

“You underestimate Sabre.”

“I’m estimating it with perfect accuracy. This isn’t an investigation anymore, Ember. Soon enough, it’ll descend into a street fight. You need soldiers who understand the threat you’re facing.”

“And that would be you?”