Page 46 of Fractured Allegiance
I toss the drive into the drawer and close it harder than I need to.
Then I sit.
Not at the table. On the floor. Back against the wall. Eyes on the door like I’m waiting for something to come through it. But nothing does.
Because she’s not coming here.
And I’m not allowed there.
That’s the agreement. The boundary. The line Naomi keeps drawing with her voice, her warnings, her threats.
You don’t get to keep things.
She said it like a rule.
But rules don’t work when they only move in one direction. When Lydia’s in the room, the world reorganizes around her. Not just mine. Everyone’s.
Drazen thinks he’s using her.
But she’s the most dangerous person in the room, and she doesn’t even need to lift a weapon. She uses restraint. She wears a mask over the look that says she’s already survived worse than you, and she didn’t need your permission to do it. It keeps pulling me toward her.
Not her beauty. Not the elegance. Not even the damage.
It’s that she’s never once asked to be saved.
But I can’t stop thinking about what it would mean if she did.
I tip my head back against the wall.
And I say it out loud, just to hear how it sounds when there’s no one left to lie to:
“She’s not part of the job.”
And then—
Quieter.
“But I don’t care.”
Chapter 5 – Lydia - Beneath the Surface
I don't sleep after the club.
I try. Strip off the dress. Wash the paint off my mouth. Crawl between linen sheets that still smell like someone else's detergent and mistakes. But my body won’t settle, and my thoughts... they’re moving too fast to pin down.
I pull the curtains closed and leave the lights on. That should help, but it doesn’t. The memory replays.
Dom’s hand on the small of my back.
Silas watching me through the crowd.
The contract signed in sweat and nervous ink.
I can still feel the press of their eyes. One used me like a tool. The other saw something I didn’t mean to show.
And now, everything around me feels like exposure
I walk barefoot across the cold tile floor and reach for the bourbon. I don’t usually drink alone. It feels like begging the night to win.
