Page 295 of Fractured Allegiance
The question lands heavy. It’s not an accusation, not uncertainty. Just curiosity, stripped of its armor.
I rest a hand against her hip, the fabric of her shirt warm under my palm. “We’re what’s left,” I say. “When everything else burns away.”
She turns, eyes tracing my face like she’s memorizing it — not out of sentiment, but necessity. “You make it sound almost noble.”
“It’s not.”
She smiles then, a real one this time, the kind that cuts. “Good. I’d hate for us to start pretending now.”
The air between us hums again, that same static that’s always lived in the space where danger meets want. Only this time, there’s no edge of survival to it. Just recognition.
Lydia leans back against the window frame. “Naomi was right about one thing,” she says. “We’ve made enemies we’ll never see.”
“Then we keep moving,” I answer. “Stay unpredictable. Stay ahead.”
“And when they find us?”
I shrug, taking another sip of whiskey. “Then we remind them what kind of ghosts they made.”
She studies me for a long beat, then nods. “Good.”
The sun is starting to break through the fog, streaking the walls with light that feels almost too clean for us. I set the glass down and move to stand in front of her again.
“We could leave,” I say. “Disappear for real. Somewhere far. Somewhere quiet.”
Her hand lifts, brushing against my chest. “And do what? Grow flowers? Pretend we weren’t built for this?”
“Maybe.”
She laughs softly, low in her throat. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I grin. “That’s not what you said when I had a badge.”
Her expression softens again, the humor fading into something quieter. “That man’s dead, Silas.”
“I know.”
“And this one?”
I tilt my head, eyes holding hers. “This one belongs to you.”
The words are simple, unpolished, but they land with the weight of a vow. She doesn’t reply right away. She just reaches up, fingers brushing the line of my jaw. The look she gives me is the closest thing to peace I’ve ever seen on her face.
“Then maybe I finally belong somewhere too,” she says.
Outside, the sun finally tears through the last of the fog, flooding the room in pale gold.
We stand there, facing each other in the light, two people who have burned every bridge and still found something left standing.
“You’re not my protector,” she murmurs, repeating the words that started all of this.
I lean down until our foreheads touch. “No,” I whisper. “I’m your allegiance.”
Her lips curve against mine. “Then you’re exactly where you belong.”
The world outside keeps moving, the waves breaking, gulls crying, the slow hum of life returning to what we scorched. But for this moment, we’re still.
No Bureau. No ghosts. No war.
