Page 209 of Fractured Allegiance
Another volley of gunfire rattles the walls. Shards of glass rain down from the overhead fixture. I flinch, but Silas is already crossing the space, his hand closing hard around my arm, pulling me in behind the cover of his body. His heat is real, grounding, dangerous.
The three of us move fast. Elias ahead and Silas shielding me as we push toward the stairwell.
A guard lunges from a side door. Silas twists, fires point-blank. The man crumples, the scent of gunpowder fills my nostrils. My pulse spikes. I can taste it on my tongue, acrid and electric.
We reach the stairwell landing. Smoke curls from below. They’ve already lit the diversion charges. The sound of men shouting over each other is a tide rolling upward.
Elias grabs my chin, forces my gaze to his. “You trust him?” He jerks his head toward Silas.
I choke out the truth before I can stop myself. “I don’t know.”
“That’s good enough,” Elias mutters. Then he pushes me toward Silas. “Get her out. Top exit, north side. I’ll cover the noise.”
“Wait—” I start.
But Elias is already gone, barreling down the steps into the chaos like a man made for war.
Silas hauls me close, his voice at my ear, ragged but steady. “Stay behind me. Do not stop.”
We move.
The stairwell shakes with every detonation below. Smoke rises, burning my eyes, but I don’t care. I hold onto the back of Silas’s shirt like it’s the only thing tethering me to the ground.
We burst through the roof access door, cold night air hitting my face.
And then I see him.
Dom.
He's standing near the edge of the rooftop, two of Drazen's men flanking him, rifles already raised. His grin is feral, all teeth and malice.
“You think you can take what’s mine and just walk out?”
Silas pulls me behind him, gun raised, body tight with rage, and for the first time, I see it — he’s not thinking like just a man anymore. He’s thinking like a man who would rather burn than let go.
The rooftop hums with the sound of danger coiled too tight.
And I realize this isn’t escape yet.
This is war.
Chapter 23 – Lydia - The Interrogation
The atmosphere on the rooftop tastes like rust and gun oil.
One step out the door and the city is there, spread wide under a bruised sky, but I don’t have time to take it in. Dom is waiting. Two rifles flank him, pointed at us, the men holding them with the twitchy calm of people who’ve already killed once tonight.
Silas shifts half a step in front of me, his arm brushing mine. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move his head, but every muscle in his back tells me what he’s about to do. He’s calculating the odds, the angles, how many rounds it takes before he can push me behind cover.
Dom smiles like he’s reading the same math. “You’re late to the party.” His voice carries over the wind, brutal enough to cut. “And you brought a date.”
The men lift their rifles a fraction higher. My chest tightens. Silas’s hand goes to his side, fingers hovering near the pistol he drew on instinct back in the penthouse.
“Careful,” Dom adds. “Wouldn’t want her pretty dress to end up painted across the ledge.”
Silas doesn’t answer. His lack of words is its own kind of violence.
I scan the rooftop fast. Two floodlights glare against the slick tar. The perimeter is boxed with low rails, too easy to fall over if someone missteps. Farther out, the skyline burns with light, the streets below flashing with headlights and sirens too far away to matter. There’s no exit that isn’t through Dom.
