Page 195 of Fractured Devotion
Unknown Number:Dockside. Now. No eyes. Come alone.
My gut clenches. I don’t need to guess who sent it.
I pocket my phone and leave without hesitation.
The streets outside are emptier than usual, but the weight in my chest only grows heavier with every step. I take the back alleys, slipping through the city unnoticed until the familiar scent of salt and rust fills the air.
I find them where I knew I would. The abandoned dockyard.
Celeste waits by a rusted van, standing tall in the fading afternoon light. Her face is unreadable, but something about her appearance tightens my gut.
Her hair is disheveled, her wrists are faintly marked, and there’s a wild, untamed glint in her eyes that makes my pulse spike. I can’t help but wonder what she’s been up to, or more precisely, who she’s been up to it with.
Especially with Kade standing right there, leaning against the vehicle with that same indifferent calm, watching me like a predator assessing a rival, silent and far too calm, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Jealousy hits hard, sharp enough to make me dizzy, but I shove it down, locking it away before it can drag me under.
“You’re late,” Celeste says, her voice sharp but calm.
“Wasn’t aware this was scheduled,” I reply, approaching slowly.
Her eyes narrow, but there’s no heat in them. Just calculation.
“We need to talk,” she says, cutting to the point.
Kade doesn’t move, but his gaze stays fixed on me.
“Privately,” I add, glancing at him.
Celeste’s lips twitch in something almost like amusement.
“Anything you say to me, you can say in front of him,” she replies.
I hold her stare, searching for the woman I knew beneath the mask she wears now.
“You burned it all,” I say, my voice low.
“We did what had to be done,” she replies, her tone devoid of remorse.
“You crossed every line,” I press, stepping closer.
Her eyes sharpen, but she doesn’t retreat.
“They built those lines from corpses,” she counters.
“And now what? You keep running until there’s nothing left of you?” I ask.
Kade shifts slightly, his presence radiating threat. “Careful, doctor,” he warns, his voice soft but laced with menace.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I snap, my gaze never leaving Celeste.
Her breath hitches, a flicker of something breaking through. “Enough,” she says, stepping between us.
Her hand touches my chest, firm but not unkind.
“This isn’t about sides,” she says, her voice softer now. “It never was.”
The tension between us hums like a live wire.
