Page 123 of Fractured Allegiance

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Because he doesn’t know.

Not yet.

But he’s close.

Too close.

“And Lydia?” I ask, testing him.

His eyes darken. Not visibly. Not to anyone who doesn’t know the shift.

“She’s fine,” he says. “For now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Drazen says, “I like her better when she plays her part.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

He takes a sip. Slow. Controlled. “I don’t keep broken pieces on my chess board.”

The words aren’t loud.

But they echo in me louder than gunfire.

I nod once.

Then turn to leave.

But his voice stops me cold.

“Silas.”

I pause.

He stands. Walks over. Claps a hand on my shoulder.

And leaves it there.

Too long.

“You’re not broken, are you?” he asks.

I look at his hand.

Then into his gleaming eyes.

“No,” I say. “I’m the one who sweeps shit up.”

He smiles like it’s charming.

Like it means I’m still his.

I walk out before I prove him wrong with a bullet to the throat.

The street outside the club is drowning in blue neon.

Not the soft kind. The clinical kind. Buzzing, flickering, the kind that makes the world feel like it’s glitching.

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