Page 155 of Trapped Truth

Blaine tosses two guns and a handful of throwing knives, discarding the weapons straight onto the carpet. I watch Nolan track every metallic clank. At his feet, Angela cries without hope, unable to even look at her son headed to her rescue.

About a metre away, Blaine pauses with his hands still raised. “Release her.”

“My beautiful, darling Angela.” Nolan eases the gun back from where it’s still aimed at her. “It looks like our time together has run its course. Stand up, won’t you dear?”

“No! I won’t let you do this, Blaine!”

“It’s okay,” Blaine replies calmly.

“You cannot go with him!”

“Stand up, Mother. Walk to Azrael. He’s waiting for you.”

“No.” Her sobs are almost violent. “I won’t lose you again.”

“Don’t worry about me now.”

“You’re my son!” she screeches.

“That’s why I’m doing this.” Blaine casts a look over his shoulder. “Azrael? Take her.”

It takes the man himself reluctantly discarding his weapons and inching across the carpet to get her to calm. Nolan precisely tracks the mercenary’s moves. Finding some restraint, Azrael stops halfway down the hallway, his hands outstretched in a calming invitation.

“Come here,” he demands, scrutinising his woman. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No!” Angela screams without restraint.

Stooping, Blaine gently pulls her to a stand. “Just go. I’ll be alright.”

“D-Don’t make me walk away from you again.”

“Please, Mother. Do this for me.”

She caves inwards like a collapsing star, torn apart by its own gravity. Hugging her midsection while taking unsteady footsteps, Azrael captures her somewhere in the middle. He sweeps the inconsolable woman into his arms.

“Blaine!” Tears stream down Ember’s cheeks. “You can’t do this!”

He resolutely ignores her, his focus lasered in on his father. “Is that what you wanted?”

Nolan trains the gun on his son, using his other hand to dig a pair of cuffs from his suit jacket. “I would’ve preferred us ruling side by side, not this mess. You disappointed me.”

“I guess a disappointment is all I’ll ever be to you.”

“A dead one at that,” Nolan boasts disgustingly.

With a blank expression, Blaine allows the handcuffs to snap into place, the clicks acting as clock hands that tick ever closer to his doom. I can’t watch him get marched from us. I don’t give a fuck about the past and all that’s happened. Blaine is our blood. Our kin.

Shoving his shoulder, Nolan forces Blaine to turn, placing the gun at the back of his neck. One shot and the bullet will tear through his throat. Instant kill. The unspoken bargain is evident. If we act, Blaine dies.

“Now, we do have a chopper departing shortly.” Nolan spares us a smug smile that only twists the knife. “This has been nice, but my son and I must leave.”

“You aren’t taking him.” Hyland’s warning is gruff and booming.

“Quite the contrary. Unless you’d like to watch him bleed out on this rather wonderful carpet, we will be leaving together. No one is permitted to follow us.”

“Please,” Angela begs. “Don’t harm him.”

“Our son is none of your concern, darling. He’s in good hands now.”