Page 180 of Fractured Allegiance
The drive to Harlow Tower feels like driving toward my own execution.
I know that's dramatic. I know it doesn't help.
But the truth is simpler and worse: I'm driving toward her, and I can't do a damn thing to help. I don’t even know what I’m driving into, what Drazen has in store for me.
The east-side skyline cuts through the late afternoon haze—glass and steel towers rising like monuments to money and power. Harlow Tower sits among them, sleek and modern, the kind of place where security doesn't ask questions and residents don't answer them.
I park two blocks away. Sit in the car for a moment.
Naomi's team is watching. Two vehicles. Four agents. Monitoring from a distance.
Not close enough to help if things go sideways.
But close enough to know if I disappear. And that’s enough.
I get out of the car and walk toward the tower.
The lobby is pristine. Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, ambient lighting that costs more than most people make in a month. A doorman in a pressed uniform nods as I enter but doesn't ask questions.
Dom is waiting near the elevators.
Hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Maybe he does.
He grins when he sees me.
"Right on time," he says. "Drazen's waiting."
I nod once. "Let's go."
The elevator ride up is silent except for the faint hum of machinery and Dom's low, tuneless whistling.
I keep my face neutral, and my breathing steady.
Professional, and detached. Showing nothing.
The elevator dings and the doors open.
Penthouse floor.
The hallway is too clean. White walls. Recessed lighting. Carpet so thick it swallows sound.
Dom leads me down the hall, stops at a door on the right. Not the main suite. A separate room.
He knocks once.
A voice from inside: "Come in."
Dom opens the door. Steps aside.
I walk in.
Drazen is seated behind a glass desk, fingers steepled, watching me with the kind of calm that comes from knowing you control everything in the room.
The office is sleek. Modern. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A bar in the corner. Expensive art on the walls.
He gestures to the chair across from him. "Sit."
I sit.
