Page 83 of Trapped Truth

“Because we’re accountable,” Hudson growls. “Fucking hell.”

Disregarding his nails, Gunnar nods. “That about sums it up.”

I’ll admit, it’s a dirty tactic but clever. The layers of corruption required to hide such a sick secret within a functional business doesn’t bear thinking about. Not to mention using a meat production facility of all places.

To sell… people.

Yeah, I hate irony too.

The drones overhead provide air support while Archer and his men penetrate the facility. It’s easy. Almost too easy. No hired muscle defends the stronghold, and as they clear each busy floor with their warrant raised like a white flag, it’s evident Madden’s operation has indeed split.

“Find the plant manager.” Head ducked, Kade rubs between his brows. “I want to establish exactly what they knew about Madden’s stake in the company and when he departed.”

“Copy that,” Archer replies.

“Be discreet. We don’t need a media circus.”

“Understood, standby.”

Disappointment soils my tongue, causing my stomach to revolt in time to the misery in my skull. I turn to face the wall, focused on taking a shaky breath. We know he’s in the country. Grasping hold of such a slithery entity adds a whole other level of complexity.

Fuck this, I don’t care if Blaine’s stewing in his rage or not. Crossing the room in a rush, I stride into his personal space, forcing him to respond. After a short hesitation, his sinewy arms constrict around me.

“I want to scream,” I admit into his chest.

“At this rate, I may join you.”

“What are we missing? He’s always one step ahead of us.”

“We still hurt his operation. The raid wasn’t a total waste of time.”

“But it isn’t enough!”

Through our tight hug, Blaine must be able to feel how viciously I’m trembling. I clamp my eyes shut to fight off the floating specks that cross my vision, bringing a greyscale haze. Not now. I’m too busy for my condition to rear its ugly head.

Precious oxygen seems to escape through my fingertips. My knees knock together, growing weaker by the millisecond. I lean heavily into Blaine, overcome by the intense ringing that slices through my eardrums.

“Ember?”

“H-Headache.”

“You need to sit down, sweetheart. We’re going to be here for a while.”

“It’s okay, I can stand.”

Pulling free from his arms proves to be a mistake. Without Blaine’s support to hold me upright, the carpeted floor rushes up to meet me. If I could feel anything but an assault of pins and needles in my extremities, I might react to unceremoniously face planting.

All I’m able to grit out is a pained keen from the dagger that hitting the floor drives into my brain. My line of sight grows staticky with encroaching waves, carrying dizziness in huge tides. The black and white spots flash in a stomach-twisting beat.

“Ember!”

“Someone grab her!”

A cacophony of startled voices cut through the approaching fog. All over, I’m quickly turning numb.

“No,” I whimper, tongue floppy and useless. “N-Not now.”

“Move! Go!”