Page 204 of Fractured Allegiance
I'll go to the library.
I open the door. The guard outside straightens.
"I'm going to the library," I say.
He hesitates. Then nods. "Stay on this floor. Don't go past the east corridor."
"Understood."
I walk past him, keeping my steps measured. Controlled.
The hallway is pristine. White walls. Recessed lighting. Thick carpet that swallows sound.
Cameras in the corners. I count three within twenty feet.
Two more guards stationed at intervals. They watch me but don't move.
I find the library easily. It's three doors down from my room. Walnut shelves. Leather chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows that don't open.
A cage with better furniture.
I step inside, leaving the door open just enough that the guard outside can see I'm not doing anything suspicious.
Then I start cataloging.
The windows—tinted, reinforced, locked. No way out there.
The shelves—built-in, no gaps behind them. No hidden passages.
The cameras—two in this room alone. One in the far corner. One near the door.
The guards—three visible from where I'm standing. One outside my room. One at the end of the hall. One near the elevator.
Shift changes at intervals, if last night's pattern holds.
Dom checks in every hour.
Drazen when he feels like it.
I file it all away.
The cracks, the patterns, and the routines.
Because if Silas is coming—and he will come—I need to know how to help him when he does.
I sit in the chair by the window. Pick up a book I'm not reading.
And I wait.
Dom finds me an hour later.
He slips into the library like he owns it, jacket open, vest snug, smirk already in place.
"Well," he says, "someone looks comfortable."
I don't look up from the book. "Can I help you?"
"That depends." He circles the chair opposite mine. "Are you planning to be helpful? Or are we still pretending you don't know anything?"
