Page 17 of Fractured Loyalties
"I'm aware," I reply gently. The subtle hint draws her attention sharply again. "I wouldn't intrude unless it was important."
A slow breath leaves her, uncertainty shifting toward curiosity. "Important how?"
I hold her gaze steadily, a careful balance of sincerity and intensity. "You're being watched, Mara. Followed."
Her eyes widen instantly, fear crystallizing visibly. Her lips part slightly as though intending words, but nothing emerges. I take another cautious step closer, maintaining control.
"Who…?"
I lower my voice, the intensity tangible between us. "Caleb."
The name lands heavily, its impact immediate. Mara's delicate frame shudders subtly, her breath escaping in a soft gasp that echoes vulnerability. Her dark eyes plead silently for reassurance, guidance, strength—everything I'm offering.
I step carefully closer, voice firm yet gentle, commanding yet comforting. "You're not alone, Mara. I can protect you. But you'll need to trust me."
In that quiet moment, with dawn breaking gently around us and fear and hope colliding vividly in her expression, I realize the line has blurred irretrievably between protector and predator.
She meets my gaze steadily, her voice soft, shaking slightly. "Why should I trust you?"
I hold her eyes deliberately, offering the most honest answer I can.
"Because I’m the only thing standing between you and him."
Her gaze stays locked on mine, tension vibrating softly between us, as palpable as the chill morning breeze drifting through the coastal town. Her hesitation is clear, skepticismwarring with the instinctive urge for safety that flickers behind her dark, wary eyes.
I see the struggle plainly—the battle between fear and hope—and patiently wait for Mara to make the first move. She shifts uneasily, fingers tightening around the strap of her purse until her knuckles whiten further.
"How did you find me?" she whispers, uncertainty bleeding into the soft edge of her voice. Her gaze searches my face carefully, as though attempting to find hidden deception.
I exhale slowly, ensuring my voice remains calm, measured. "I make it my business to know things, Mara. People in trouble tend to come into my orbit sooner or later."
She swallows, the motion delicate but telling. "Caleb...he—he's dangerous. More dangerous than you can possibly know."
"I’m fully aware of what Caleb is," I reply, carefully maintaining a gentle firmness, no trace of arrogance, only a quiet, undeniable confidence. "I've dealt with men like him my whole life. They thrive on control, on your fear. You can't hide forever. Eventually, hiding won't be enough."
Her shoulders tense further, her eyes shimmering briefly before steeling themselves against visible vulnerability. "And if I don't want your help?"
My gaze remains unwavering, yet my tone softens further, bordering on compassionate, but never pitying. "You wouldn't be here right now, listening to me, if that were true."
She hesitates again, clearly torn. She looks toward the clinic briefly, its familiarity beckoning her like a promise of temporary safety, a sanctuary that won't last. I sense her internal battle intensifying, fear waging war with pride and stubborn independence.
"You're afraid," I continue softly, taking another careful step closer, closing the distance incrementally to avoid alarming her. "I understand that. But fear, when faced alone, only grows. I'm offering something better."
Mara's breath catches again, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing once more, suspicion battling desperate hope. "Why? What do you want from me?"
The question cuts precisely to the heart of our interaction. Honesty isn't typically a weapon I wield, but with Mara, truth becomes necessity—a currency more valuable than deception.
"I want to keep you safe," I say clearly, holding her gaze without wavering. "What happens next is entirely your decision. I'm not Caleb—I won't take what you aren't willing to give. But I promise you this: If you let me, I'll protect you."
Her expression softens incrementally, subtle yet profound. Something shifts behind her eyes, a delicate fracture in her carefully constructed defenses. Her breath shudders faintly, the morning breeze brushing through loose strands of her dark hair, highlighting the vulnerability she desperately tries to hide.
"And if I refuse?" she whispers, voice strained, edged with an awareness of consequences she's unwilling to fully accept.
"Then I'll watch from afar, waiting until you realize there's no other choice," I respond evenly. "But it might be too late by then, Mara. Caleb won't wait. He's already closer than you think."
She visibly recoils slightly, body tightening again, the terror at hearing the truth unmistakable. "How close?"
"Close enough to be dangerous. Too close for comfort," I say gently. "He was here last night. He knows exactly where you are."
