Page 162 of Fractured Allegiance

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He's leaving.

Because he has to.

And I'm standing alone again. No Dom, no Drazen, no orders. Just me and the choice I already made.

But it feels like a guillotine dropping in a room that still pretends to be civil.

I don’t move.

Not because I’m frozen.

Because I’m listening.

Not for footsteps.

For regret.

The hallway behind me is empty. The main lounge is deserted now. A few servers collecting glasses, one of Drazen’s nameless men talking into a phone near the coat check. Dom isn’t here yet. Drazen hasn’t sent for me. No one’s said my name in the last two minutes.

But somehow, the lull is the loudest thing I’ve heard all day.

I don’t sit back down.

I walk to the edge of the room, slowly, like I’m looking for a way to pass the time. I lean against the marble counter near the bar. My fingers trace the stem of an abandoned glass, the condensation still cold, untouched.

Behind me, I catch my own reflection in the mirror over the back bar.

Hair still pinned. Lips smudged. Eyes… not mine.

Not anymore.

I used to know who I was.

Even if no one else did.

Now?

Now I wear skin I can’t scrub clean and a name Drazen only half-respects. Now I take orders like they’re lifelines, even when they’re rope.

I told Silas no.

Because I thought staying made me strong.

But the longer I stand here, the more I realize something else.

Drazen isn’t late.

He’s watching.

Testing.

Waiting to see if I flinch before he gives the next command.

And I’m failing the test just by standing still.

My pulse kicks in my ribs.

Not panic. Clarity.

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