Page 79 of Fractured Allegiance
She's got a newspaper spread in front of her and a coffee mug steaming at her elbow. She's dressed down—jeans, a dark sweater, hair pulled back—looking like any other insomniac burning time before the real day starts.
I slide into the seat across from her.
She doesn't look up from the paper. "Rough night?"
"Couldn't sleep," I say, flagging down the waitress.
The waitress approaches, pen poised. "What can I get you?"
"Coffee. Black. And the breakfast special." I glance at Naomi. "You eating?"
She finally looks up, folding the paper. "Already ordered. Should be out soon."
The waitress nods and disappears.
Naomi takes a sip of her coffee, eyes tracking the room in that way trained agents do—casual but cataloguing everything. When she speaks again, her voice is low, just loud enough to reach me across the table.
"I've been reading about that warehouse incident. Supplier dispute, they're calling it."
Code. She's asking about the deal that went sideways.
"Complications happen," I say evenly. "Everyone walked away."
"Most everyone." She turns a page of the paper, though she's not really reading it. "Heard one of the guests had a rough time. Civilian caught in the wrong place."
Lydia. She's asking about Lydia.
My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice level. "Standard evacuation. Got her clear before it escalated further."
"Right." Naomi sets her mug down, the clink of ceramic deliberate. "Except witnesses say you were very hands-on with that particular evacuation. Protective, even."
I say nothing.
The waitress returns with my coffee and a plate of eggs and toast. Sets it down with a practiced smile before moving to the next table.
Naomi waits until she's out of earshot.
"Seems you're getting sloppy, Silas." Her voice is still conversational, but there's steel underneath. "Personal attachments in deep cover aren't just dangerous—they're terminal. If I'm noticing, others will too."
"She was in the line of fire," I say carefully. "Anyone would've done the same."
"But you're not anyone." She leans back, arms crossed. "You're supposed to be Drazen's newest acquisition. A man who doesn't flinch at blood and doesn't waste energy on civilians who aren't his problem."
She's right, and I hate it.
"So what?" I pick up my fork, pushing eggs around my plate to maintain the illusion of normalcy. "You want me to let collateral damage happen just to stay in character?"
"I want you to remember why you're there." Her eyes lock on mine. "You're not there to save people, Silas. You're there to bring down an operation. And if you start making choices based on who you want to protect instead of what the mission requires, you're compromised."
The word hangs between us like an accusation.
"She's not a liability," I say, quieter than I mean to.
Naomi's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes. "Then what is she?"
I don't answer.
She picks up her coffee again, takes another slow sip. "Drazen's paranoid. You know that. He's already testing you, watching for cracks. If he suspects you're soft on anyone in his orbit—especially her—he won't just cut you loose. He'll make an example."
