Page 83 of Fractured Devotion
He doesn’t argue.
The stairwell is dimly lit, the hum of the emergency lights the only sound. I climb slowly, dragging my fingers along the cool rail. My thoughts swirl into chaos with memories that don’t line up and patterns I ignored.
At the top landing, I pause and lean against the wall.
What if Alec’s wrong? What if he’s the one spinning this story? I have no proof, just paranoia layered on top of exhaustion.
And yet, there’s a part of me that knows. Deep down. The part that never fully trusted the calm in Kade’s voice and the way he always seemed to arrive at the right moment.
I sink to the floor.
For a long moment, I just sit there, listening to the sound of my breath and trying to remember which part of my life is real.
I think about the look in Kade’s eyes when he warned me not to go back to my apartment.
Was that fear?
Or ownership?
And worse still, why did it feel safe?
Because something inside me wants him to be the answer. Wants the lie.
Even now.
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. I can’t afford to break. Not yet. Not when I’ve finally started piecing this together.
Eventually, I rise and walk back down the stairs.
When I return to the apartment, Alec’s still sitting there with his head down, lost in his own storm.
We don’t speak again that night.
But something has shifted between us.
And for better or worse, we’ve crossed a line that neither of us can walk back from.
Chapter 28 – Alec - Through the Cracks
I don’t sleep. Not really. I sit on the edge of Celeste’s backup cot with my elbows on my knees, staring at the wall like it might blink first. She’s in the corner, breathing softly and evenly, but I don’t trust it. That kind of stillness isn’t peace. It’s self-preservation.
The sun cracks the sky open at 6:12 a.m., a pale blue thread bleeding into the blackout curtains. I hear her stir behind me, but I don’t turn around. Not yet.
I’ve been running logs in my head all night. The anomalies, the duplication of her access credentials, the hidden layers in Rourke’s systems, and Kade. Always Kade. Like a hairline fracture running through every system I dig into.
She finally speaks. “Did you find anything else?”
I glance over my shoulder. She’s sitting up, her legs folded under her, her hair a chaotic halo of defiance. “Just more confirmation that we’re being watched. Kade hasn’t accessed any new logs directly, but someone’s ghosting under his signature.”
She frowns. “So it could be someone framing him?”
“Or he’s better at hiding his tracks than I thought.”
She pulls her knees tighter. Her eyes are sharp. They’re not afraid but fed up. Tired of being everyone’s project.
“Then we need a name,” she says.
“We need access,” I correct her. “And we need help.”
