Page 142 of Fractured Loyalties
My grip tightens on the gun.
The wall screen shifts again. Not surveillance now.
Blueprints. From one of my buried shells. Layers of data stacked in fractal recursion. Encoded keys. Dead routes. Some of them cross-referencing with the same patient aliases connected to my old covers—names now folded too close to Mara’s clinic records.
He’s forging a false trail, making it look like she helped me bury them. Building her into my past where she never was.
And he’s letting me know he has it all.
I raise my weapon and shoot the first screen. Sparks cascade. The voice doesn’t flinch.
“Touchy,” Vale says, his tone dry. “She calms you. Makes you soft. That’s why I’m going to enjoy watching you lose her.”
I step into the center of the room.
“Try it,” I growl.
Silence.
Then a low laugh.
And the ceiling lights cut out.
Pitch black.
But I don’t freeze.
Because I was born in the dark.
And he just gave me the advantage.
I holster my weapon. Slide a knife into my hand.
And wait.
Because this room isn’t haunted.
It’s wired.
And he’s still watching.
The dark folds around me like a second skin. I stay still.
No shift. Just patience.
I hear it—a click. Not mechanical. Human. A sharp inhale behind the wall to my left.
I move.
Fast. Silent.
My blade slides into my palm, angle reversed, grip bone-tight. I dart left, press my back to the cold wall, and wait.
Another breath. Closer this time.
He's here.
Vale doesn’t just watch. He wants me to hear him now. Feel him in the dark.
