Page 216 of Fractured Allegiance
And me?
I watch her reflection in the window, the line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the distance she’s putting between us.
Doesn’t matter if she hates me. Doesn’t matter if she never forgives me.
She’s mine.
And I won’t let Drazen, or Elias, decide otherwise.
The car hums low as it cuts through the city. No music, no chatter, just the occasional squeak of tires against uneven pavement. Elias sits rigid in the front passenger seat, one hand braced against the dash, the other loosely on his lap but ready to move. Lydia’s beside me in the back.
She leans against the door, eyes fixed out the window, face turned away so I only see her reflection in the glass. A hollow kind of distance.
I want to reach for her. I don’t. My fists rest against my thighs, nails digging into my palms.
Elias finally speaks. “The Bureau’s not going to like what you did tonight.”
My gaze snaps forward. “Let them come.”
“You think they won’t? You killed Dom. You pulled me into this. You chose sides without permission.” His voice goes flat and dangerous. “They’ll burn you before they burn her.”
Lydia doesn’t turn from the window. Doesn’t say a word.
The car slows. Turns down a narrow street where the streetlights cut short, leaving long shadows pressed against brick. One more turn, then we stop in front of a building that looks like it’s been abandoned for a decade.
It hasn’t.
I know it the moment Elias taps a sequence on the lock-pad hidden under the rusted frame of the door. The mechanism clicks, and we step inside.
Inside, the place feels less like a home and more like a bunker dressed in casual clothes. Neutral furniture. Sparse lighting. Steel locks on every door.
Elias leads Lydia down the hall. Shows her into a room with a bed already made, a small desk, a closet half-stocked with basics. “It’s yours. For as long as you need it,” he says.
She nods once. Still silent.
Then he looks at me. His expression is cool, unreadable, but his words aren’t. “You’re welcome here too. For now. The Bureau will come after you eventually. You’ve got a day, maybe two, before they decide you’re worth cutting loose.”
I meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He doesn’t argue. Just turns, steps back down the hall, and leaves us with the sound of the door clicking shut.
It’s just us now. Lydia stands by the desk, fingers grazing the chair’s edge but refusing to sit. The room feels dense with everything we haven’t said.
“Say it,” I tell her. My voice is rough, low.
She finally looks at me, eyes cold. “Say what?”
“That you hate me. That you don’t trust me. That you regret letting me come close to you.”
Her eyes flash. “Why would I waste my breath?”
I step closer. “Because I need to hear it.”
She shakes her head, exasperation evident in her laugh. “You don’t need the truth, Silas. You need excuses.”
I move again, until I’m right in front of her, close enough to smell the faint trace of soap clinging to her skin, close enough that the tension vibrates between us like a livewire.
Tension crackles between us, fury and desire tangled in every breath. Lydia’s eyes burn, her chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm.
