Page 189 of Fractured Devotion
Forty-eight minutes left.
We didn’t have the luxury of staying behind. Kade and I slipped out the back exit the moment the purge began its sweep—silent, fast, and untraceable. No fanfare. No lingering looks.
We walked like strangers, our faces hidden beneath thin, borrowed hoods, grabbed from a vending machine outside a laundromat along the way. They’re cheap, forgettable fabric, but enough to blur us in passing.
The city thinned around us as we moved, the buildings giving way to emptier streets, until the outskirts finally welcomed us with their subtle neglect. That’s where we found the motel, tucked between shuttered shops and cracked asphalt, the kind of place that doesn’t ask questions and only takes cash.
Now, inside the dim room, I don’t take my eyes off the screen.
Kade stands by the window, watching the street below with that same unnerving stillness he always carries right before everything shatters.
“They’ll be scrambling by now,” he mutters.
I sit on the edge of the bed with my legs tucked beneath me, my fingers hovering near the keyboard. “Good,” I reply, calm and steady.
His gaze slices toward me, something wicked flickering in his eyes—a dangerous, measured calm. He turns and crosses theroom at a measured pace, each step deliberate, his boots heavy against the old floorboards.
“You dragged me into this fire with you,” he says, his voice soft but edged with something darker and sharper.
I finally look up, meeting his stare head-on. “You jumped willingly,” I murmur.
He gives a low, rough laugh. “No. I fucking ran.”
He paces once before stopping behind me. His hands settle on my shoulders, strong and grounding. “You know they’ll never forgive this,” he says, his voice close to my ear.
“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” I reply.
He huffs a breath, his lips barely brushing my skin. “And after this?”
I tilt my head just enough to glance back at him.
“We follow through on our plans, the Meridian networks,” I say simply.
His hands tighten, his fingers digging in with subtle pressure.
“You’ve already set yourself on fire,” Kade murmurs, his voice a faint rumble that vibrates against my skin, his eyes dark with a hunger that mirrors my own.
“Then watch me burn brighter,” I whisper back, my lips curling into a defiant smirk.
The clock ticks down. Thirty-three minutes glow on the screen, sharp and unforgiving, counting the moments until the purge wipes their empire clean. The air hums with anticipation, thick with the weight of ruin and desire.
Kade leans in, his breath a soft threat against my throat, warm and teasing. “You’re fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, his voice fraying with need.
I smirk, unbothered, my pulse steady despite the fire licking through my veins. “Keep watching,” I command, my tone laced with challenge.
And he does. His gaze is a brand, focusing on the computer as the timer drops to thirty minutes. The purge is nearing completion, and the adrenaline surges beneath my skin, a wild current that sharpens every sense.
He doesn’t say anything. He just lowers himself beside me on the bed. I shift slightly to make space, the mattress dipping under his weight. Our shoulders touch—close, steady, and unspoken—but neither of us moves away.
“Thirty minutes left,” he muses, glancing at the screen, his voice dark and threaded through with something sharp and certain.
“Enough time to dismantle a kingdom,” I reply, my eyes glinting with the thrill of destruction.
His smile is wicked, predatory. “You really are a queen of ruin,” he says, and the words sink into me like a caress.
I don’t deny it. The air thickens, not with fear, but with something heavier—the knowledge that everything they built will crumble, and we’ll stand untouched, unyielding. Kade’s fingers brush my thigh with intent, the touch unhurried, sparking heat that pools deep in my belly.
“What happens when there’s nothing left to burn?” he asks, his voice a subtle growl, his hand lingering and possessive.
