Page 223 of Fractured Loyalties
The scrape of his boots against the concrete, the faint click of a safety being flicked off—it all reaches me before he’s fully clear of the shadows. I twist, shifting my body at the last second. The first man I’ve got pinned jerks forward just as the shot cracks. The bullet tears through him instead, blood blooming across his chest.
His eyes go wide. Shock. Then fury. Then nothing.
I use his weight like a shield, dragging him into the line of fire as the second man unloads another burst. Concrete splinters at my side, dust filling the air. I return fire, controlled and precise—two shots, both finding center mass. The second man crumples against the wall, sliding down in a smear of red.
The first is still gasping, life leaking out between his teeth. I drop him, let him collapse at my boots, and crouch low beside him. His pulse flutters under my hand, weak, but enough.
“Vale’s not just watching her,” I growl, voice low enough he has to strain to hear it. “He’s building a cage around her. Tell me where he wants me to find him.”
Blood bubbles at his lips. His eyes roll, but there’s one last flicker of defiance in them. “You already know…he’ll…make you choose….”
“Choose what?” I demand, shaking him once, hard. “What does that mean?”
His throat works, but no words come out. Just blood. Then his head slumps sideways, lifeless.
The warehouse goes still. Just the echo of gunfire bleeding into silence.
I stand, wiping blood from my hand against my jacket, scanning the room. The Civic waits where it sat. The photos of Mara lie scattered across the floor. Evidence. Threat. Warning.
Vale wants me cornered. Wants me torn between two things I don’t compromise on: the mission and her.
A flicker of rage burns in my chest, sharp enough I have to move. I drag the bodies into the far shadows, out of sight. Let the rats find them later. Then I scoop up the envelope, shove the photos back inside. Every image is a blade pressed against me. Against her.
I return to the SUV, tossing the envelope onto the passenger seat. The leather creaks as I grip the wheel, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
Vale’s message is clear. He isn’t hiding anymore. He’s circling Mara, closer every day. He wants me rattled. Wants me paranoid. Wants me to look at the people beside me—Lydia, Kinley, even Jori—and see cracks where maybe there aren’t any.
And it’s working.
I start the engine and drive off. The warehouse shrinks in the rearview as I pull away, but the weight of those photos stays heavy beside me.
By the time I hit the main road, my phone vibrates. A message. Not from Lydia. Not from Kinley. Unmarked number.
The text is simple. Clean. Brutal.
She’s already mine.
My grip on the wheel tightens until the leather creaks.
The message burns on the screen.She’s already mine.
No signature. No timestamp lag. No traceable metadata. Just text, raw and taunting, as if whoever sent it knows exactly how deep it cuts.
My thumb hovers over the screen, itching to trace it, but I know better. Chasing shadows over a phone is a waste of time. Whoever sent it already erased their trail. What matters isn’t where it came from. It’s the message itself.
Vale knows.
Not just where she lives. Not just where she works. He knowsher. He’s already inside the orbit I swore I’d control.
The SUV hums beneath me, speed climbing as my foot presses harder into the pedal. I should turn back. Go straight to the safehouse and make sure Mara’s still breathing, still untouched, still mine. The thought tears through me with brutal clarity.
But I don’t.
Because that’s exactly what Vale wants—me chasing home, rattled, reactive.
The text is a test. A leash. If I bite, he pulls tighter.
My knuckles whiten around the wheel. I take the opposite turn, cutting across lanes, heading deeper into the city’s underbelly. There’s one place I can strip this message down to its bones. One place I can force the trail to bleed.
