Page 197 of Fractured Loyalties
“I noticed.”
“Let me—”
“Not yet.” His tone is flat, but his hand finds my wrist for the briefest second before letting go.
Somewhere behind us, an engine growls—distant, but too steady to be a stray sound.
“They’re still on us,” Lydia says, eyes fixed on the treeline sliding past her window.
Kinley doesn’t look away from the road. “They won’t be for long.”
Elias shifts beside me, his arm brushing mine. “Keep your line. No sudden swerves. Let them think they’re closing.”
The sound grows for another half-minute, then fades, swallowed by the forest. Kinley guides us over a shallow rise, and when the road straightens again, there’s nothing behind us but black.
Lydia exhales slowly. “They took the wrong fork.”
No one cheers. It doesn’t feel like a win—more like the kind of reprieve that can vanish without warning. The SUV eats up the distance in long, quiet stretches, the hum of the engine the only steady thing in the world right now.
I keep my eyes forward, letting the dark road pull us farther from that facility, from the wrecked vehicle in the clearing, from the sharp scent of adrenaline that still clings to my skin. Jori shifts beside me, finally leaning his head back.
Elias’s thigh presses against mine again, deliberate this time. He doesn’t speak, but the weight of him there says it clearly enough. We’re not done—not with them, not with what’s coming.
But we’ve made it out. For now.
The forest thins until the dirt road meets cracked asphalt, the SUV gliding over it like it’s been waiting for the shift. Kinley’s hands stay tight on the wheel, eyes forward, jaw clenched.
Lydia’s phone buzzes against the console. She checks the screen, then answers without looking at any of us. “Yeah.” A pause, then her voice drops lower. “When?”
The call ends fast. She’s already swiping through something on her screen, the cold glow lighting her face. “Caleb was spotted earlier tonight,” she says finally. “Three blocks from the clinic.”
The name hits like a punch to the ribs. My hands go cold against my thighs.
Elias doesn’t ask for more details. “We’re going to my place,” he says.
Kinley flicks a glance at him in the rearview. “I don’t know the way.”
Lydia’s already pulling up a map. “I’ll navigate. Keep moving.”
The rest of the ride is a tight coil of silence. The smell of metal and damp fabric filling the air, the undercurrent of Elias’s blood. His thigh stays pressed to mine, the weight of it deliberate now, like a tether he’s not ready to cut. Jori sits stiff on my other side, not speaking, but his eyes keep sliding to me and then to Elias, reading currents he can’t hear.
When the SUV comes to a stop, Elias gets out without waiting, unlocks the door, and waves us in.
Inside, everything is the same, the quiet hum of expensive systems keeping the outside world exactly where it belongs—out.
“You’ll stay here for tonight. Tomorrow, we move to my second safer apartment,” Elias says, glancing around, looking like someone who doesn’t trust the air around him. His voice is too calm, the kind that doesn’t leave room for negotiation.
“I’m not staying here,” I tell him.
His eyes flick to mine. “Yes, you are.”
“I’m going back to my apartment, going back to living life the way I used to. You don’t get to—”
“I do,” he says, stepping closer, “when the man who nearly broke you is walking the same streets again. You think you can just walk back into your routine like nothing’s changed?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not the point.” His tone hardens. “I’m not giving him the chance to get close to you again.”
