Page 255 of Fractured Allegiance
“I didn’t mean to—” His voice rattles. “It wasn’t supposed to—he cornered me, all right? Drazen knew my sister’s name, where she lives. He—”
“You fucking rat,” Jax snarls, lunging halfway across the table before Elias’s hand flicks up, halting him like a leash.
Ren’s chest heaves, his eyes wet with something I can’t respect: fear turned inward. His voice pitches higher, desperate,a child begging forgiveness instead of a soldier holding a line. “I only gave him scraps. Things that didn’t matter—timelines, supply runs, locations already burned—”
“You sold us,” Elias cuts in. Not loud. Not fast. Just carved from granite.
Ren flinches as if those three words alone were a bullet.
Mara stands now, her face drawn tight, as though she’s bracing for a storm that’s already begun. “Ren…” Her voice is soft, human, too human for this room.
I feel it clawing at me the ghost of Kinley, the man Elias pulled out of a hole once, the man who smiled and bled with us until he didn't. His lies. His blood on the floor after the betrayal. Trust is never just broken here. It's detonated. And the echo burns years after.
Ren collapses into his chair, hands raking his hair. “I didn’t tell him everything! I swear—”
Elias finally rises. The scrape of his chair against the floor is louder than the argument, louder than Ren’s pleading. He doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. His presence pulls gravity to him like iron.
“You think scraps matter?” Elias takes one step, then another, slow and exacting. “You think Drazen plays for scraps?”
Ren shakes his head, trembling, but he doesn’t answer.
Silas hasn’t moved, but his gaze is fixed on me now. He’s waiting to see if I flinch, if this kind of betrayal still shakes me. I don’t give him the satisfaction.
I fold my arms, tilt my head, and speak as if Ren is already a corpse. “What else did you give him?”
Ren’s breath stutters. He presses his palms flat against the table, fingers spread as if anchoring himself to this last moment of life. “Names,” he whispers.
The room fractures.
Jax’s shout is instant, violent. Mara covers her mouth. Elias doesn’t blink.
"Whose names?" I ask, ice coiled tight around every syllable.
Ren's eyes dart to me, then Silas, then Elias. And in that wild, fractured second, I know the answer.
"Yours," he admits, the word cracking. "Yours, Lydia. After Jori went down—after Bellamy—someone from Drazen's crew reached out. Someone I used to work with, back before Elias. They offered money, protection, said all I had to do was keep them updated. Where you move, who you trust, how tight you are with Elias." His voice drops. "I gave him pieces, but—"
But nothing.
Every bone in my body hardens. Elias’s jaw tightens, a storm locked behind his eyes.
And Silas—God help me—Silas looks at me like he already wants to tear Ren apart with his bare hands.
Ren’s face collapses under the weight of his own confession, eyes darting as if there’s a door left to run through. But there isn’t. Not here. Not with Elias standing over him like the inevitable.
“Elias—” Mara’s voice cracks, trembling but steadying in the same breath. She isn’t begging. She knows better. She’s warning.
Elias ignores her. His focus is singular, a blade of ice in human form. He leans down, resting his hands on the table, soclose to Ren that every word he speaks seems to lodge inside the man’s throat.
“You don’t get to barter survival with the names of people under my protection.” His voice is calm, steady. “That is the only line I’ve ever drawn. You crossed it.”
Ren shoves back, his chair screeching against the floor. His hands shoot up, trembling palms out, as if open fingers can undo betrayal. “I swear, I didn’t mean for it to go that far! Drazen—he had me cornered, he—”
“Stop.” Elias doesn’t raise his tone, but the word cuts clean through.
For a moment, Ren actually listens. His mouth hangs open, silent, as if he’s just realized he’s already dead.
Jax mutters a curse, slamming his fist into the wall, turning away. He doesn’t want to watch, but he can’t leave. None of us can.
