Page 42 of Fractured Devotion
Alec leans back again, his expression hardening. “That’s because it is.”
I study him now, more closely. There’s a flicker of unrest beneath the still water of his gaze.
“You’re worried,” I say.
“I’m angry,” he corrects. “But there’s no one to aim it at. Yet.”
I nod slowly, the weight of the flash drive somehow heavier now that he’s sitting here.
He eyes me carefully. “You can’t do this alone, Celeste. Not this part.”
“I’ve always done it alone.”
“And look where it’s gotten you—tired, cornered, and watching your own past unravel on a loop.”
The words aren’t cruel. They’re honest, which makes them worse.
I sit back in my chair, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk. I feel the tremor in my bones before it registers in my thoughts.
“You think I’ve already gone too far.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, he says, “No. But I think if you keep walking forward without looking back, you won’t see the cliff until you’re falling.”
My throat tightens.
He stands slowly, moves around the desk, and stops beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but the space between us narrows, and the air shifts.
His voice lowers when he murmurs, “Wherever this leads, I’ll make sure to stand with you all the way.”
I look up. And for a second, I let myself believe him.
“You’re a fool,” I whisper.
“Maybe. But I’d rather be a fool beside you than safe behind a door you keep locked.”
The tension in the room shifts again, something gentler trying to surface beneath the weight. But neither of us moves to close the distance further.
Alec doesn’t linger. When he finally turns for the door, he does so with the same subtle finality with which he entered.There’s no dramatic pause and no backward glance. Just the soft sound of the door pulling shut behind him.
And then I’m alone again.
The silence isn’t gentle this time. It presses into the corners of the room and the center of my chest.
I turn in my chair, my eyes scanning the data still open on the side screen. But it’s not the files that hold my attention. It’s the thought Mara planted earlier. The Level Two access at 4:27 a.m., the rerouted servers, the scrubbed trail.
Someone inside this place thinks they’re smarter than the system. Than me.
It’s not just that it happened. It’s how clean it was. Too clean. Which means it was intentional and rehearsed.
I scroll back to the diagnostic report Mara left and then expand the overlay. Her annotations were crisp and exact, but there’s something buried deeper. Something she didn’t say outright, either because she didn’t catch it or because she thought I would.
There.
One cluster of altered tags repeats at irregular intervals, just shy of traceable patterns. Someone was testing access, probing the limits. Like they weren’t just interfering. They were watching for when someonewouldnotice.
My stomach coils.
Mara didn’t log the breach. She brought it straight to me, which means she doesn’t trust the system either. It also means she’s paying closer attention than I realized.
