But… fuck. Josh.
I experienced this god-awful feeling during our last large-scale trafficking investigation. That saga was equally as messy.Violence, betrayal and bloodshed defined the Briar Valley case, and now we’re back in the trenches of the same damn fight.
And Josh is dead.
On my fucking watch.
Pulling my phone back out, my thumb hovers over Willow’s missed calls from the last few hours. She must’ve seen the news. I bet she’s pacing up and down in her cabin. I’m about to return her calls when there’s a crash from inside the quiet room.
When I barge inside, the scene pulls me up short. Ember stands in the middle of the small space, blandly decorated in neutral, inoffensive colours. Her shoulders heave as she stares at the smashed vase in front of her, broken glass and shredded flowers littering the floor.
I gently click the door shut. “Ember?”
She doesn’t react.
“Hey, red.”
Nothing.
“Ember. It’s Hyland.”
Tentatively, I inch closer to crowd her shaking back. She doesn’t react when I rest a hand on her hip, thumb skating over the sliver of badly bruised skin that her cropped t-shirt reveals above comfortably loose, grey sweats.
Oscar volunteered to source everyone a change of clothes when we followed medical evac—with Tom in tow—to the local hospital. None of us have been home. Not to rest or debrief. Though we did convince Ember to shower the blood off after her examination.
“I need you to talk to me right now.”
It takes a couple of seconds for her to come alive.
“He’s on a ventilator because of me.”
The hit of relief her broken voice provides is intense but fleeting. Her words are flat, matter of fact. Even I can sense the abject pain underscoring them.
“What happened to Tom isn’t your fault.”
“He was taken to get to me. That’s as close to the definition ofmy faultas humanly possible.”
“Tom consults for Sabre. He knows the risks.”
“He didn’t sign up to be beaten, starved and locked in a freezing shipping container.” Heartache drips from her tone. “You heard the doctors. Severe pneumonia.”
“I heard.”
“He can’t even breathe for himself right now, and his lungs may never recover. All of his wounds are infected. He’s malnourished, dehydrated. The lot.”
“How exactly is any of this your fault?”
“If I weren’t here, he would be safe!” she explodes, high-pitched and furious. “How the fuck do I live with that? He almost died!”
With gentle hands, I slowly steer Ember to turn around. The sight of her barely open, swollen eyes makes my insides twist. There’s a white strip across her nose, stark against the purple and green bruises that match her arms, chest and ribs.
She’s technicoloured and barely able to move without wincing, but this formidable warrior still finds a way to turn the blame inwards. I don’t know if it’s selflessness or bone-headed stubbornness, but she can cut it out. I’m not listening to this self-deprecating shit.
“You didn’t just save his life, Em. You saved all of us. As much as I fucking hated it, your actions got us out of there. You took down Carlos and his men.”
“I allowed Tom to get hurt.”
“You allowed nothing.” I grip her hip tighter, pinching her chin with my other hand. “Matter of fact, you saved his life. You’re the reason he’s still breathing at all.”
