Page 51 of Broken Sentinel

"Where will you go?" he asks quietly.

I gesture vaguely to the small room. "I'll stay here. You can find somewhere else for the night."

"Zara—"

"Please," I cut him off, not looking at him. "If you actually care about what I want, what I need right now is to be alone."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things we're not saying. Finally, I hear him move toward the door.

"I'll check with Lyra about alternate accommodations," he says, his voice carefully controlled again, that perfect Sentinel mask back in place. "If you need anything?—"

"I won't," I interrupt.

He pauses at the door. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Not for protecting you, but for hurting you. That was never my intention."

Before I can respond, he's gone, the door closing softly behind him.

Alone in the unfamiliar room, I sink onto the sleeping platform, the weight of the day finally crushing down on me. In less than twenty-four hours, I've lost everything I thought I knew about myself, about Unity, and now about Trent, the one constant I thought I could rely on.

I wrap my arms around my knees, pressing my forehead against them as the tears finally come—hot and bitter, streaming down my face in silent testimony to everything I've lost.

Outside, beyond the walls of Haven's Edge, night has fallen completely. I can see stars through the small window—actual stars, not Unity's simulated ceiling displays. They stare back, cold and distant and utterly indifferent to the turmoil below.

In this moment, I've never felt more alone. More adrift. More Splinter than Sentinel, yet belonging nowhere.

Who am I, if not the person I've believed myself to be for twenty-six years? What am I, if not Unity's loyal enforcer? And how do I move forward when every foundation I've built my life upon has crumbled beneath me?

I have no answers. Only questions, pain, and the hollow ache of betrayal where certainty once lived.

Tomorrow will bring more revelations, more expectations from people who see me as Elara Thorne's legacy rather than Zara in my own right. Right now, that future stretches before me like a wasteland more desolate than any physical landscape outside Unity's walls.

For the first time since my symptoms began, I face the unknown truly alone, without protocols to follow, without Unity's structure to guide me.

And without Trent by my side.

CHAPTER 11

I've been avoidingTrent for three days.

Not exactly hard to do in a settlement this size. Haven's Edge sprawls across the valley in a way Unity never would have allowed, structures built wherever they made sense rather than in perfect geometric patterns. My temporary quarters sit on the eastern edge, while Trent's been assigned space near the medical facility. Plenty of distance between us.

Plenty of space to nurse my anger.

I lean against the rough-hewn windowsill, watching the sunrise paint the sky in colors Unity never bothered to simulate. Pinks and golds bleed into purples and blues, shifting with each passing second. The beauty hurts in a way I can't explain, like I’m simultaneously reminded that I am a being connected to this world, to this nature, while knowing I have spent my whole lifemissingthis.

Taught that this was somehowbad.

"Dammit," I mutter as a jolt of pain shoots through my temples. The headaches are getting worse. Each one feels like someone's rewiring my brain with a rusty screwdriver.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, waiting for the spike to pass. When it finally does, I notice my reflection inthe window—eyes briefly flashing amber before fading back to their usual dark brown.

Not good.

I push away from the window and grab my jacket—another donation from the settlement, made of actual leather that still smells faintly of its previous owner. My morning walk has become the one routine I can count on in this new life. The locals have mostly stopped staring, though I still catch whispers as I pass.

"Elara's daughter."

"Unity Sentinel."

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