Page 163 of Fractured Devotion
I spend the entire afternoon buried in logistics, running loops in my head—ways to shield her, ways to cut our losses clean if everything spirals too far. Every plan feels half-formed, either too weak or too reckless. I can’t focus on the clinic tasks. I can barely meet Reyes’ eyes without imagining how all this might end.
By early evening, it has settled in my chest like something rotting.
I can’t let her do this. Not alone. Not here.
As the sun drops behind the hills, I make my decision.
I’ll tell her tonight. She has to run and leave everything behind before it’s too late. I’m willing to go with her if she wants. I’ll drop everything and burn my career to ash just to get her out of this alive.
I’m already walking toward her office when I meet her halfway, just as she’s slipping out from her last meeting of the day. The clinic is winding down around us, footsteps fading as the staff move out for the night. She has her coat draped over one arm, her hair slightly disheveled, and a sharp look in her eyes that tells me she hasn’t stopped thinking about everything since this morning.
“You waited,” she says, her voice low but not surprised.
“I said I would,” I reply.
She studies me for a moment, then tilts her head toward the exit. “Walk with me.”
We fall into step together, the faint hum of the building’s closing routines buzzing in the background. It’s just past sunset, the sky outside still holding onto the last edge of light.
“Did you think all day about what you’re going to tell me?” she asks, half a challenge, half a genuine question.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“And?”
I glance at her, the words heavy on my tongue.
“I know you won’t like what I’m about to say,” I begin, my voice measured as we keep walking through the hushed halls. The fluorescent lights flicker above us, their hum like a muted warning. “But you need to leave Miramont. Tonight, if you can. Disappear before they notice your next move.”
She pauses at the side door leading out of the building, her hand on the handle, but she doesn’t push it open yet.
“And you?” she asks, not looking at me.
I step closer, keeping my voice steady.
“I’d go with you,” I say, every word carved from something sharp inside me. “Anywhere you want to go.”
She pushes the door open and lets it swing shut behind us as we move out of the clinic.
“You think running will fix this?” she asks, her voice hoarse from exhaustion.
“No, but it might keep you alive,” I say, my voice rough, my eyes following every subtle shift in her posture.
She lifts her gaze, locking eyes with me, and something about the way she stares makes the air thinner and tighter.
“I can’t leave,” she says, her voice steady, but with something darker threading beneath it. “I won’t be anothername on their list of victims. I’m going to burn every last name on that list before they even think about erasing me.”
“Celeste—”
“You know what they did to me,” she cuts in, her body closing the space between us in a breath. Her words strike with the heat of a brand against my skin. “You showed me. You witnessed it. And you expect me to walk away?”
I can’t answer. My throat locks tight around the truth neither of us wants to face.
“You’re not ready to fight them,” I manage finally, my voice low. “You haven’t slept. You’re not thinking clearly. You still have the Heretic Loop to finish. And once it goes live, there won’t be a way back. No undoing what comes after.”
She stills mid-step, standing right there on the sidewalk just outside the clinic. The streetlights cast a soft glow around her, and she curls her hand into a tight fist at her side, her knuckles whitening with how hard she holds herself in place.
“That’s the point,” she says, her voice like a razor’s edge.
