Page 178 of Fractured Allegiance
“Neither do I,” Drazen divulges, as if he trusts anyone either.
He walks back to the bed. Sits. “Dom says you’ve been different lately. Distracted. You watch the club like you’re looking for a way out.”
I don’t answer.
“I understand,” he says softly. “You were Elias’s once. You were untouchable. Then Mara walked in, and your leash got moved.”
I take a step closer. “If you think you can taunt me into loyalty,” I say, “you’re dumber than you look.”
“I don’t want loyalty, Lydia,” he says. “I want clarity.”
He stands again. Smooths the lapels of his jacket.
And then he drops it: “You’re getting a visitor tonight.”
I blink.
“What kind of visitor?”
He smiles.
“Silas.”
My pulse spikes.
"He'll be joining us. Standing guard outside your door." He pauses. "Consider it a test. If he's clean, we'll see it. If you are… he'll survive it."
He walks to the door.
“Get some rest. Or don’t. But be ready.”
The lock clicks shut behind him.
And for the first time since I got here… I stop thinking about escape.
And start thinking about what Silas will do when he sees me like this.
I don’t sit.
I can’t.
The minute Drazen’s gone, I pace the room like a goddamn caged animal because that’s what it is. What I am.
But not because of him.
Because of the name he said before he left. The way he said it. Like Silas is bait.
I move back to the wardrobe. Run my hand across the fabrics. The dresses are sleek. Expensive. Tailored to flatter, to disarm. I know what this is. Dom’s version of hospitality has always come wrapped in silk and knives.
But I don’t choose the softest thing. I choose the darkest.
A black slip dress, with one slit too high, one strap too thin. No back. It’s calculated, like everything they’ve laid out for me. I put it on anyway.
Let them look.
Let him look.
I turn away before I can catch sight of myself in the mirror.
