Page 191 of Ravaged Soul
“Oh, no.” The tears come faster. “Axel’s… he… Oh, no. Shot. He got shot, and now?—”
“Ember, breathe.” Gracie slides a hand beneath my neck. “He’s right there. You were brought in together.”
She guides me to a sitting position in the cramped cage, allowing me to see an identical setup a couple of metres to our left. Passed out in a matching metal prison, Axel lies sprawled in a lifeless mound.
“Ax!” I clutch the bars, longing to go to him.
“He’s been out of it for a while,” Gracie murmurs. “Since the medic dug that bullet out of him and cauterised the wound. It was bad. He screamed a lot before blacking out again.”
“Medic? What medic?”
“He works for Nolan.” She shrugs.
My mouth falls open. “Madden?”
“He likes to be called Nolan. Or master.”
Yep, I’m definitely going to puke.
The vomit rises in a fast-moving spew to erupt from my throat. Gracie pulls loose hair from my face while I twist to hurl into the corner of our shared cage, needing to purge the chemical remnants from inside me.
When I’ve made it to the dry heaving stage, I bat her away to sort myself out. I’m still dressed in my full assault gear, but some of my hair has escaped its braid, sticking to my face in sweaty clumps. I try not to think too hard about the crispy, dried blood soaked into my sleeve.
“Is he here too?” I fight to breathe normally.
“He was.” Gracie’s eyes drop to study the dirty floor.
“Where? Is Madden alone?”
“No… there was another.” Her voice trembles. “The man who bought you before is here to meet him.”
My stomach heaves again. “Gael.”
“I’ve seen him a lot. They’re friends, I think. Business partners. Sometimes he brings more girls over for Madden to purchase.”
“Fuck! Okay… I need to focus.”
Pinching my cheeks does little to alleviate my fogginess. I slap myself in the face then twist to look back at Axel. From here, I can see his chest rhythmically rising and falling.
His Kevlar is gone, and his undershirt shirt is shredded, revealing fresh white bandaging. Other than that, he looks unharmed. Just far too still and deathly for my liking.
“Was there someone else who looks like him?” I ask her.
“His twin.” She nods. “He was upset.”
“Upset? With Madden?”
“No, with his brother. Axel’s heart stopped, and it made him freak out.”
“It stopped?” I bite back a screech.
“The medic did CPR after he finished cauterising the wound. He wanted to do more, but the brother shoved him out then started screaming at Nolan about some kind of deal. They left a while ago, still arguing.”
I’m not sure if I have the mental capacity to fathom exactly why Gunnar shot his brother then proceeded to panic and save his life. That’s a question for a trained mental health professional. Even then I doubt it would be an easy feat.
Focusing instead on surveying our surroundings, it reveals a grim outlook. We’re not being held in the factory that Sabre infiltrated. Gunnar must’ve removed us somehow. This building looks barer, a concrete husk with no identifiable features.
Other than our two cages, there’s a variety of wooden crates stacked around us. All stamped with various destinations. No prizes for guessing the legality of the contents. We’ve been bagged and tagged with the rest of Madden’s exports.
