Page 212 of Fractured Devotion
My fingers toy with the blade resting on my thigh.
I’m not in a rush.
Rourke isn’t going anywhere tonight.
I trace the city lines with my eyes, watching the people below move like ghosts, unaware of the storm hanging above them.
This is the last time I’ll look at this city the same.
Rourke makes it easy.
He doesn’t run. He doesn’t hide.
He lounges in his tower, high and smug, surrounded by men too stupid to know they’re guarding a dead man.
I slip through the streets like smoke, unseen and unbothered.
But it feels different this time.
It’s not like the others. Not like Vescari.
This isn’t about revenge.
It’s about closure.
About burning the last page.
I find my way inside through an old maintenance shaft, slipping past layers of locks and guards like they were never there.
I know this building better than its owner.
Soon, I’m standing outside Rourke’s study.
I take a pause.
Then I push the door open.
Rourke doesn’t flinch.
He looks up from his desk, a glass of something expensive in his hand, swirling it lazily as if this were just another meeting.
“I expected you sooner,” he says, his voice smooth, his eyes sharp.
I step inside, letting the door shut behind me. “I had other errands,” I reply.
“Of course,” he smirks, sipping his drink.
He sets the glass down with deliberate calm.
“So this is how it ends? My own hand, turned against me?” His voice carries no fear, only something sharp and knowing.
“You brought me in,” I remind him, my tone steady. “You wanted someone who could get close. Someone who could watch her.”
“And you did,” he replies, his gaze narrowing. “Better than anyone else. You slipped right under her skin, and I let you. You knew every corner of her mind, every secret she buried.”
“That was the deal,” I say, stepping closer.
“You were supposed to report back to me,” he says, anger creeping beneath the surface. “You were mine, Kade. My wolf. You were supposed to stay loyal.”
