Page 216 of Fractured Devotion
It feels like peace.
Safe, at least for now.
I pull out the folded note from my coat, unfolding it and smoothing the creases with careful fingers.
The words come slower this time. More deliberate.
I take out a pen, letting the ink bleed onto the page as I write.
You don’t owe me anything.
Whatever was between us—whatever still burns in the dark corners—you’re free of it.
I don’t regret what we shared.
But I won’t be another chain around your throat.
I hope you build something better.
Something without ghosts like me.
If you ever need me, leave a message. You know how.
But if you don’t, I’ll disappear.
And I’ll never haunt you again.”
I don’t sign it.
She’ll know.
I wait for the bakery to be still, the crowd thinning as the morning rush starts.
Then I leave, stepping into the cold, folding the letter carefully.
The bakery door swings shut behind me, the scent of coffee lingering on my coat as I disappear into the morning light.
I cross the street and slip the note through her door.
Quick and silent.
And then I walk away without looking back.
Chapter 61 – Celeste - Between the Lines
The morning atmosphere is thick with the scent of old books and the faint trace of lavender oil still clinging to the sheets. I haven’t slept.
I sit at the edge of my bed, the blankets tangled around my legs, my fingers absently running over the seam of my thigh where his bruises remain. They’re faint now. Almost gone.
The city outside is softer than usual, a strange, hushed calm after nights filled with sirens and screams.
I let the stillness settle into my bones.
The last time I saw Kade, we were both inside that dead van—the engine cold, the whole city poised on the edge of a heartbeat outside. We’d shut down Miramont’s last reserves from inside those walls, dragging the clinic to its knees together.
Afterward, I left him there, and he didn’t try to stop me. He just stayed in the dark, still as ever, watching as I slipped into the night.
But his words stayed with me, still echoing like a pulse I can’t shake.
