Page 42 of Fractured Loyalties
Caleb barks out a reply. Too cocky. Even pinned, even bleeding, he has the nerve to smirk.
Elias shoves his knee harder into Caleb’s neck and leans in, their faces inches apart. His fingers twist the fabric of Caleb’s shirt, anchoring him there without lifting. His face is a shadow of fury and restraint. He speaks—too fast to lip-read, too low to carry. But his mouth moves with venom.
Whatever Elias said wipes the smirk from his face.
Elias stays crouched over him, knee still digging into Caleb’s neck. He leans closer now, words flung like knives, body rigid with rage. One hand clenched tight at his side. The other grips Caleb’s collar like he could tear him in two.
And then….
Elias stops.
He just stops.
And gets up.
Caleb gasps, coughing hard, scrambling backward in the dirt like a rat dragged into daylight. He stumbles once, twice, then bolts toward the opposite edge of the clearing—away from the shack, away from Elias, away from me.
I don’t breathe again until he’s gone.
Elias doesn’t follow.
He stands in place, shoulders heaving, gaze fixed on the dark tree line Caleb disappeared into. Then his jaw shifts.
He turns, slams his fist once—hard—against the side of the shack. The impact echoes across the clearing.
Another hit.
Then he paces, circles, stops again. His hand scrapes through his hair like it burns. He swears. Quiet, violent. A man unraveling in silence.
I stay where I am, curled behind the rise, chest tight, throat raw. I should move. But I don’t.
Eventually, Elias turns toward me.
And starts walking.
Each step eats the distance like a slow tide. Deliberate. Heavy. And when he reaches me, he doesn’t speak right away. Just stops at the top of the rise, looking down.
“You saw.”
I nod. “All of it.”
His voice is rough. “He’s gone.”
“I know.”
He lowers himself beside me, sits in the dirt like the weight finally cracked him.
I hesitate. “And the other one?”
His jaw flexes. “He’ll live. Won’t be useful to Caleb anymore, but he’s breathing.”
Somehow, that doesn’t shock me. Not with the way Elias moves—clean, deliberate, purposeful.
“I was going to kill him,” he says after a beat.
“I know that too.”
He looks away, but not fast enough to hide the grief in his eyes. Not sadness. Not guilt. Something deeper. A rage that swallowed itself.
