Page 202 of Fractured Loyalties
“You want the truth?” she says finally.
“Always.”
“Then here it is—you’ve got a car outside a clinic with no plates and glass dark enough to swallow the driver. That’s not random. That’s a net waiting for something to twitch.”
“Freelance?”
“Could be. But people like that don’t sit quiet for this long. My guess? It’s someone testing boundaries. Watching how fast you notice.”
I narrow my eyes on the Civic. The figure in the driver’s seat hasn’t moved. Just a shadow pressed into leather.
“Names,” I say.
“I don’t have them. Not yet.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Then let me work instead of demanding miracles,” Lydia snaps. “I’ll run the feeds, check what rolled into that block overnight. If that car’s been circling, I’ll find it. But Elias—”
“What now?”
Her voice shifts, steadier. “If someone’s trailing her, it means somebody knows where to look. Which means your circle isn’t airtight. Not anymore.”
My teeth grit. “You think it’s one of mine?”
“I think Kinley’s been twitchy since I laid eyes on him. And Jori? He’s staring at Mara like she’s the answer to a question he doesn’t even know how to ask. If either of them cracked—intentionally or not—it’s enough to leave a trail.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“Don’t bet your life on it. You taught me that.”
Her words stick, because they’re mine thrown back at me.
“If you want clean lines,” she finishes, “you cut where it bleeds.”
“By the way, I’ll send a team to the clinic, so you can go about your day.”
The call ends before I can decide whether to curse her or thank her.
I stay on the corner, phone heavy in my hand, eyes on the Civic. The driver doesn’t move. The car doesn’t budge. It’s patience dressed as power.
And I know exactly what Lydia means.
Patience only works until someone like me takes it away.
I’ve built my life on edges so sharp no one else could walk them. Now Mara’s in the middle of it, cutting holes where I used to be solid.
And the worst part?
I let her.
The Civic stays parked as I walk away, my reflection flickering in shop windows until the street bends me out of sight. Let it sit. If the driver wants patience, I’ll show him how endless patience can look.
But Lydia’s words won’t leave. Kinley twitching, Jori staring at Mara like she’s the answer to a riddle he can’t solve—she wasn’t wrong. They’re cracks in the glass. Small hairline fractures. The kind that splinters wide under the wrong weight.
By the time I reach my office, the day is almost half-gone. The lobby receptionist doesn’t meet my eyes when she tells me the clients have been rescheduled. My schedule has been bleeding for days. I don’t correct it.
Inside, the walls look the same: dark wood, precise order, every file where it belongs. But the neat stacks of contracts blur when I sit down. Pages of numbers and clauses, black ink meant to bind men who think they’re untouchable. Usually, I cut through them without effort, but today, the words won’t pin down.
