Page 204 of Fractured Devotion
Irene exhales as if laying down a heavy burden.
“You were always more,” she says. “Even before they touched you. You fought harder than anyone else would have.”
Her words catch me off guard, unexpected and sincere.
“I don’t know what to do with peace,” I admit, my voice tight.
“Then start by learning to live in it,” she says simply.
Hours pass, unnoticed.
We drift into stories about the past, all the small memories. Times before everything fell apart.
She tells me about my mother’s laugh and the way she would sing to herself when cooking. She tells me how my father used to tinker late into the night, scribbling half-formed ideas on napkins and receipts.
It feels distant, like hearing tales about strangers.
But something in me softens.
And I let it.
By the time I stand to leave again, the weight inside me feels different. It’s not completely gone. But it’s carried with more ease.
Irene walks me to the door once more. “You know where to find me,” she says.
I nod.
We share a look, a subtle understanding passing between us.
I step into the night, the cold sharper now, but not unwelcome.
The world feels wider.
And for the first time, my steps feel entirely my own.
As I walk away, the weight on my chest lifts with each step.
My path from here is clear. There are still things to build, people to confront, and lives to untangle. But this chapter? This one is finished.
I don’t look back.
The road ahead belongs to me.
Chapter 58 – Kade - Dominion’s End
The night presses against my skin, thick and cold.
The refinery rises ahead, a rotting monument of steel and smoke, sprawled across the barren outskirts. It hums like a living thing, its walls pulsing with dim orange lights, its heartbeat mechanical and steady.
I watch from a ridge, hidden in the skeletal remains of an old maintenance shed. The wind carries the tang of oil and rust, biting into my lungs. The guards below—six of them that I can see—pace lazily, their rifles slung low. They think the dark protects them. They think no one would dare to come here.
Fools.
I pull my hood lower, my leather gloves flexing around the grip of my knife.
I didn’t come here to threaten.
I came to end this.
