Page 119 of Fractured Loyalties
My hands are steady. That surprises me. My reflection in the dark window above the sink doesn’t look wrecked, just pale. Focused. I stare at myself until the kettle clicks off.
Tea. One sugar. No milk.
I take the mug and move through the house with slow steps, drawn back to the guest room—my room. The sheets are still made. The faint scent of cedar and detergent lingers in the fabric. I set the mug down and sink into the edge of the bed.
My fingers pull open the top drawer without meaning to. Inside is the burner. Still dormant. Still off.
I take it out and set it on the bed beside me. Just looking at it makes my skin prickle. I sit down slowly, careful not to disturb the silence, like noise might trigger something I’m not ready for.
I pull the blanket across my lap. Curl my legs under me, then I turn the burner on. My fingers drum once, then stop. I don’t know why I turn it on—only that not knowing what happens after an action feels worse than the risk of finding out.
The screen flares to life.
Blank. Quiet.
I exhale, just a little. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe it’s just a shell, nothing left in it.
I lean back against the headboard, try to breathe like I’m not counting seconds.
Then the burner buzzes.
A single, sharp vibration that jumps into my spine.
I sit up straight. The screen lights again.
A message.
UNKNOWN:“It’s not Elias I’m here for. But he’s in the way.”
I don’t know if it’s Caleb.
But I know the cadence.
I grip the edge of the bed with white knuckles. My other hand slides toward the knife in my bag.
No one knocks at the door.
But I feel the weight of being watched again.
And I know this is just the beginning.
Just a new breach in the pattern.
I stare at the message until it vanishes on its own.
Then I kill the screen and sit there, waiting for something to make sense again.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been sitting there until the mug’s gone cold again in my hand. The tea tastes bitter now—over-steeped and stale. I don’t finish it. Just set it on the table beside the bed and press my fingers to my temples.
My head aches.
I hear the quiet chime of the perimeter lock rearming itself. A detail I didn’t notice until now. Lydia must’ve reset the system when she dropped me off. She’s good. Too good. Which makes me wonder again how long she’s been tracking me, and how much Elias really told her.
I pick up my phone. My real one this time.
Still no word from him.
I stare at the thread for a long time. Then, finally, I type:
