Page 117 of Fractured Allegiance
But it’s not silence.
And it’s not comfort either.
Whatever he gave me, whatever thread he thought he left in my hands, is unraveling too fast to hold onto.
And I’m not trying to tie it back together.
Not anymore.
I fall asleep on the couch. And I don't dream, not really.
But something inside me stirs. Images half-formed. Threads from a nightmare I’ve grown used to tracing by touch.
That file.
The one Drazen claims to hold.
The one I’ve seen with my own eyes.
Not truth.
Something worse.
Something too believable to argue with, even if every word is a lie.
A name in red ink. An account number. A photo pulled from a bad angle, from a worse night. A place I never went, except on paper. A dead man I didn’t kill.
They don’t need facts. They need fear.
And I’ve learned how to carry mine quietly.
When I wake, the room is still dark.
I stand without thinking. Walk to the window and stare down at the city that keeps swallowing people like me and spitting out something smaller.
Someone once told me I was made for more than survival.
But maybe that’s all any of us are doing.
Maybe that’s what he sees when he looks at me.
Not a prize.
Not a threat.
Just someone who still knows the difference.
Chapter 14 – Silas - Wreckage Has Eyes
I've spent the last three hours doing everything except what I'm supposed to be doing.
Ran traces on the third-party access—dead ends and proxy loops that go nowhere useful. Pulled surveillance footage from the hallway cameras near Lydia's building—nothing. Whoever dropped that note knew exactly how to move through blind spots.
Naomi called twice. I let both go to voicemail.
And Lydia's message sits on the burner screen, two words I haven't answered: Why me?
Because I don't have an answer that won't make everything worse.
