Page 100 of Fractured Allegiance

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“I’m afraid of not knowing who I’m handing pieces of myself to.”

His hand shifts slightly. No movement toward me. Just a twitch of muscle, a flicker of impulse.

“You already know,” he says. “You just want me to say it out loud.”

And then—

A knock.

Not hard.

But not hesitant, either.

Neither of us moves.

Another knock. Two taps, brisk and clipped.

My whole body stiffens.

Silas straightens, head turning just slightly toward the door.

The sound wasn’t loud.

But it cut through the moment like a scalpel.

I move first. Step toward the door, but not close enough to touch the knob.

Silas doesn’t say a word, but I feel him shift behind me. Calculating. Listening.

No voice. No footsteps retreating. Just that cold stillness.

He says, very quietly, “Expecting someone?”

I shake my head.

He moves past me, calm and cool, and stops just to the side of the door.

I unlock it. Grip the handle. Pause.

Then open it two inches.

No one stands there.

No sound.

Just an envelope on the floor. Thick. Cream-colored. No markings.

I pick it up and close the door before opening it.

Inside: a single piece of paper. Handwritten.

One line.

You don’t belong to him.

I stare at the ink. My fingers go numb.

Silas reaches for it.

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