Page 103 of Fractured Devotion
“I heard,” he says, his tone even. “I wanted to check on you.”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
He tilts his head slightly, taking a step closer. “You’re not.”
My voice tightens when I say, “What do you want, Kade?”
He hesitates, then answers, “To help.”
Something in me flinches. I’ve been keeping my distance since the night at the cliff and since Alec made himself too comfortable in my space, and I let him.
But now Kade’s here, and I’m tired. And I don’t know who I trust.
He speaks again, softer this time, murmuring, “You’re not safe here.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“There’s more to what happened,” he says. “I don’t think Harper acted alone. I think someone’s been watching you… and using her to get close.”
My breath catches.
“Let me sweep your apartment. Remember our last discussion?” he offers. “If there’s anything there, I’ll find it. I’m not the enemy here.”
I hesitate, but exhaustion cracks the last of my resistance. “Fine.”
“Now,” he says, “before it gets worse. With you present, of course.”
I unlock my apartment when we get there, and the moment we step inside, Kade’s demeanor sharpens.
He doesn’t touch anything at first. He just lets his eyes slide over the room like he’s trying to catch a breeze that’s moving the wrong way.
“Did you notice anything strange since the last time you stayed here?” he asks.
“No. But I haven’t slept here since the night of the cliff,” I admit.
He nods once and begins.
He checks the cabinets, vents, and under furniture. He’s methodical, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
It should unnerve me. And it does.
But there’s also a perverse comfort in the way he takes control. It lets me fall back into silence, into stillness.
And then, halfway through sweeping the bedroom, he freezes.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer at first. He just reaches up into the upper corner of the closet and pulls out something small, black, and blinking.
A camera.
My breath dies in my throat.
Kade turns to me slowly, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “This was live and wired into a relay. Someone’s been watching. This is probably how that picture of you was captured.”
I take a step back, bile scraping at the base of my throat. “How long?”
“Too long,” he says. Then, calmly, he adds, “This isn’t Echo-issued. This is private. And precise.”
