Page 97 of Fractured Allegiance
Despite my impulsive summons, I can’t move right away. I sit clutching the edge of the couch and stare at the door. The kind of stillness around me is like the one that settles when you know what’s coming and still can’t decide whether you want it or not.
Yet, when I finally rise, my heart’s not racing. The beat holds steady. Isn’t that so much worse?
I get up and move to the door, I open it without hesitation, and Silas stands there like he never had reason to waver or doubt. As if it was obvious that I’d open it.
He’s wearing a dark jacket, clean shirt, all neat and spruced up in that casual way of his. Still, something in his face looks bruised anyway. Like the morning pulled too hard at him. Like something broke open overnight, and he’s still deciding whether to bury it or bring it inside.
But he must make some decision, since the door swings shut behind him, latching clicking into place with finality.
I fold my arms but don’t speak.
We stare at each other across the room like there’s glass between us.
I walk toward the kitchen. Not because I need water. Because I need distance.
Silas follows.
“I’ve been trying to figure you out,” I say, still facing the sink. “Whether you’re a threat, or a shield. Whether you’re a ghost or a man with bad timing.”
“I’m not either.”
“Then what are you?”
A pause.
Then, calmly:
“Wreckage.”
I turn slowly.
“That’s not a real answer, Silas.”
“It’s the only one I trust right now.”
The fridge hums behind us. A bird chirps once outside the window like the universe wants to remind us it’s still daylight. Still afternoon. Still a world where real people do real things that don’t involve staring each other down over wiretaps and veiled betrayal.
“You didn’t answer my message,” I say.
“I came, didn’t I?”
“You always come when I don’t expect it.”
“I only come because you let me.”
I step forward.
“Is that what this is? Permission?”
His voice stays even. “No. This is a risk.”
Another step.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
