Page 118 of Fractured Loyalties
Then she smiles faintly.
“Elias isn’t the only one watching, you know.”
The silence after Caleb leaves doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like delay. Like a hallway that leads somewhere darker.
Lydia stands with her arms crossed, eyes scanning the mouth of the alley, her shoulders coiled like she never learnedhow to relax. She doesn’t ask me if I want to go inside. She just waits.
“Was that really why he came back?” I ask finally. “Because of Elias?”
“I think it started with you,” she says. “But it always ends with Elias. That’s the problem.”
I look at her. “How long have you known him?”
Lydia huffs. “Long enough to know when he’s in trouble. And when he’s trying to pretend he’s not.”
Her voice isn’t unkind. Just dry. Tired in a way that makes sense now.
“You trust him,” I say.
She lifts a brow. “I don’t trust anyone. But I believe in what he’s trying to protect. And right now, that’s you.”
That sinks in slowly.
“Why did you follow me?” I ask.
She doesn’t flinch. “Because you left without saying anything. Because Elias told me to keep an eye on you for him. Because his systems pinged an unlogged route. Because I’ve been doing this long enough to know when a woman walks away from safety with a knife in her bag and doesn’t tell anyone, it’s not for coffee.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
She smiles faintly. “I usually am. Annoying habit.” We stand there in the alley’s breath for another moment. Then she gestures with her chin. “Come on. I’ve got a car two blocks down.”
I don’t argue.
We move together, side by side, not speaking. The wind has picked up again, biting at the edges of my sleeves. But I don’t mind it now.
Lydia doesn’t walk like she’s guarding me. She walks like she’s giving me space to feel my own weight again. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that.
When we reach the car, she opens the passenger door for me without a word. I climb in.
The silence in the vehicle is easy, clean. I stare out the window as the city slips past, less familiar than it should be.
By the time the house comes into view, the sun has started its slow descent.
I finally speak. “I don’t think this is over.”
She nods once. “It never is.”
The house swallows us whole. Lydia leaves with that same soundless precision she arrived with, vanishing like she was never really here. I don’t ask if she’ll tell Elias. I don’t ask if he knows already.
I don’t want to know the answer either.
I peel off my jacket the moment I step into the kitchen and toss it over the chair. The silence here is different than the beach or even my apartment. It’s clinical. Claustrophobic. Like every object is listening. Like the walls have already started to shift their weight, preparing to lean in.
I put on water for tea.
Because I need the ritual.
Because I need something normal.
