Page 14 of Fractured Allegiance
I reach for the handle.
But just before I leave, I can’t help but say, “You were very obvious when looked at me last night.”
A beat.
Then his voice, quieter this time, spreads across the distance between us: “You looked back.”
I don’t respond.
I walk out.
And I don’t breathe again until I’m in my car, hands on the wheel, heart finally admitting that yes, this man is going to be a problem.
The drive back to the club feels longer than it should.
I park in the same spot. I take the same stairwell down. But everything hums louder now. The lights seem more artificial. The floor under my boots is too polished, too slick. It’s like someone scrubbed the truth out of the room before I got here.
Dom’s waiting again. He gestures for the file without speaking. I hand it over. He doesn’t even bother to open it, and watches me instead.
“Well?” he says, a thick brow quirking.
I sit down across from him and cross one leg over the other, keeping my spine straight. I’ve practiced this posture since I was nineteen, rigid but unbothered. Always unreadable.
“He’s clean,” I say.
Three syllables.
A decision.
Dom raises one brow. “That quick?”
“There’s nothing to link him.”
“Drazen won’t like that answer.”
“He’ll like the part where his name never came up.”
Dom watches me like he’s trying to count my pulse through my teeth.
“What’s your read on him?” he asks.
I don’t hesitate.
“Civilian. Confident. Doesn’t push.”
“Dangerous?”
“No more than the city made him.”
Dom taps the folder closed. Fingers loose, casual. He could snap a neck with those hands. I’ve seen him do it; once, years ago. A man who touched someone without asking.
Dom believes in rules. As long as he’s the one who writes them.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Yes.”
It’s not just a lie.
