“Not ones like this. I thought I could protect you from my past, but it's arrived, and I can’t stop this disaster. Not if he’s here.”
She heaves out a tired sigh. “Who’s here?”
“Madden isn’t our only ghost. This one’s just been buried for a long time.”
Between the head injury, exhaustion and drugs, I know she isn’t grasping what I’m saying. Perhaps that’s giving me the courage to say it aloud. Soon enough, I’ll have to explain properly. Then Ember will never want to look at me again, let alone allow me to hold her close like this.
None of them will forgive me.
And I’ll lose everything.
All around, the constant hum of hospital life fails to overcome the pounding that fills my ears. Relentless. Terrifying. A countdown clock that leads to one place—the destruction of the fantasy I created. The tale that I was told to weave.
With Ember passed out, I manoeuvre my arm free then pull my phone from my pocket. It isn’t often that I call home. A life sentence is more than a signed piece of paper. It’s also a death warrant. The part about being an orphan is true in that respect.
“HMP Wakefield.”
“Phone call for inmate Meredith Slaughter, prison ID 6243. It’s urgent.”
“This is out of hours,” the bored voice drones.
“Family emergency, I’m her son. Locate her please.”
“Damn family members… Hold the line.”
The miserable operator vanishes with a click. I adjust Ember’s position on my chest, ensuring my sprinting heart rate doesn’t wake her up. She’s still breathing steadily in her medicated stupor.
After what feels like an eternal wait, the line rings out then connects with a low muffle. I hold my breath, waiting for the rattly voice that I only converse with once or twice a year. If that.
“Axel? Is that you?”
“Hi, Mum.” I gulp hard. “I don’t have much time.”
“What is it, boy?”
My eyeballs sear, a childish part of me rearing its head. Traumatised by what he’d seen then twisted into a lie that henever wanted to tell. But life doesn’t give us fair choices. Not even when you’re young and afraid.
If I’d had the option, I wouldn’t have erased my twin brother. Nor would I have covered up what he did back then. Mum did the best she could. She protected her baby. All while I bore the brunt of her carefully woven lie.
“Ax?” she prompts.
“Gunnar’s back.”
She wheezes, adding to my building terror. “Not possible.”
“It’s true.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. He’s in London.”
For an awful, stomach-clenching pause, there’s no advice. Not even a word of motherly comfort. Then the inevitable nail in my coffin comes in the form of a stark warning.
“Axel…” She sniffs back tears. “Run.”
CHAPTER 21
EMBER
