Page 178 of Fractured Loyalties
Lydia walks to the table, leans her weight against it. “It means someone inside Volker’s net knows we’re still breathing. And they’re not scrambling. They’re just…waiting.”
I glance at Elias. He hasn’t stirred. But his fingers curl slightly against the blanket, as if even in sleep, his body recognizes a threat.
“You said this place was off-grid,” I murmur.
“It is,” she says. “But they’re not looking for where we are. They’re predicting where we’ll go. The clinic. The house. And me, anywhere that smells like safety.”
A chill moves through me. Not just cold. Recognition.
“You think they’ll move tonight?” I ask.
Lydia shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think they need to. Because Volker knows Elias won’t run.”
She pushes off the table. “That’s the gamble. He’s betting on pride over survival. And if he’s right, we’re not safe here—or anywhere.”
I watch her leave the room.
I sit there, staring at Elias, feeling the weight of choices that haven’t yet been made—but already feel irreversible.
He breathes shallow and slow beside me.
Outside, something shifts. A rustle. A clatter. Not near. But not far.
Kinley moves past the doorway, gun in hand, silent and alert.
My heart doesn’t stop racing. Not when the night stills again. Not even when I lie beside Elias, curling against his side. His body is warm and taut with pain, but alive. I tuck my fingers into his shirt and close my eyes.
There’s no such thing as safety.
Only closeness. Only skin. Only the slow surrender of pretending we still have a choice.
I don't know when I fell asleep.
I wake to the smell of metal and sweat.
The air inside the safehouse has thickened, humid from too many bodies and too little airflow. Elias hasn’t moved, but I can feel the change in his breathing. Shallow, yes—but more aware. Lucid.
He’s watching me.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I murmur.
Elias’s voice is low, hoarse. “You needed it.”
His pupils are slightly dilated in the dim light, but alert. I sit up slowly, brushing the edge of the blanket off his abdomen.The wound on his shoulder is ugly and raw, soaked through the fresh gauze I’d previously changed before drifting off.
“You shouldn’t be awake,” I say.
“I heard Lydia.”
Of course he did.
“She’s right,” I whisper. “Volker’s not hunting us. He’s herding us.”
Elias shifts slightly, wincing. “And we let him.”
“No,” I say firmly. “We survived him. That’s not the same thing.”
His eyes flick up to mine. “You’re defending me now?”
