Page 210 of Fractured Devotion
He meets my gaze, steady but unflinching. “I just don’t want to see you dragged down by someone who thrives in the dark.”
“We all thrive in the dark at some point,” I reply, my voice soft.
Silence settles again, heavier but not uncomfortable.
After a beat, I speak, my voice in a more sincere tone. “Thank you,” I say.
His brows knit. “For what?”
“For helping me remember,” I answer. “Even if I know jealousy played a part in it.”
He lets out a long sound, half-laugh, half-sigh. “Maybe it did,” he admits. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you deserved to know.”
I nod, feeling the truth in his words.
For tonight, that’s enough.
I move toward the door, ready to leave. I know we’ve said everything we need to.
For now.
I linger by the door, unsure whether to leave or stay.
After a moment, I move to the worn chair across from him before sinking into it. The cushion sighs under my weight.
Alec doesn’t press me, but his gaze follows every shift of my body, watchful and patient.
“How’s Reyes holding up?” I ask, breaking the stillness.
His face softens a little, his posture easing.
“Stretched thin. He’s working around the clock trying to keep Rourke from digging too deep and taking him off questions that’ll point in your direction.” Alec says. “But he’s smart and careful. He’ll hold as long as he can.”
“And Mara?” I press.
A flicker of a smile crosses his face. “Still Mara. Cool, calm, and probably hiding ten steps ahead of us all. But even she’s rattled after everything that went down.”
I let that settle.
“They all think this will settle on its own,” Alec continues. “That Rourke will cover it up, or the board will reshuffle things discreetly. But we both know this isn’t the kind of storm you can clean up with paperwork.”
I nod slowly, my eyes tracing the cracks in the wall.
“It won’t settle,” I say. “Not for them.”
His gaze holds steady. “And what about you? After all this? After the dust is settled?
I meet his eyes, my voice steady but firm when I say, “Then I’ll figure out what’s left of me.”
We sit in the growing stillness, the weight of our words thick between us, neither of us pretending there’s a simple way out.
Alec drums his fingers lightly against the table in a steady, thoughtful rhythm.
“They’ll try to pin this on you,” he says. “Or on anyone they can reach. When the bodies keep piling up, they won’t care about accuracy.”
“I’m aware,” I reply.
His gaze sharpens, watching me too closely. “But you aren’t surprised,” he adds.
