Page 194 of Fractured Devotion
“Mine,” I growl, driving into her again and again, relentless and savage, each thrust forcing her body back against the console.
She arches, bound and helpless, taking every punishing inch, her moans growing louder and more frantic.
“Harder,” she begs, her voice breaking.
I obey, slamming into her harder and faster until the van rocks around us, the metal walls rattling with every brutal movement.
“You feel that?” I growl, leaning down to bite her shoulder and drawing a sharp gasp.
“Yes,” she gasps, her body trembling, on the edge of shattering.
I release her wrists just long enough to flip her over the console, her ass high, her face pressed against the cold metal. Then, I grip her hips and thrust deeper and harder, taking her with raw, unrestrained fury. “Come for me,” I order, my voice a snarl.
She obeys, her body convulsing around me, her cries filling the van as she shatters, helpless and undone.
I follow, spilling inside her with a guttural roar, every muscle tight as I empty everything into her.
We collapse together, breathless and drenched in sweat, tangled and wrecked.
The van is silent again, save for the sound of our ragged breaths.
Outside, the sun still burns.
Inside, we are nothing but ruin and satisfaction, bound by everything we destroyed and everything we took.
Chapter 55 – Alec - Ghost Tides
The air inside the clinic burns sharply, a bitter mix of bleach and sweat. The servers are dead now. Silent. The countdown finished hours ago, just as planned, wiping everything clean.
Thirty-two hours. That’s all it took to dismantle the clinic from the inside out.
The alarms stopped an hour ago, leaving behind only flickering lights and the weight of something already gone.
I stand in the hall outside the data wing, watching the last of the security teams pack up, their faces hollow. No one speaks. There’s nothing left to salvage here—no system to reboot, no files to recover.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaustion sinking deep. This isn’t just the end of Miramont. It’s scorched earth.
“Dr. Rennick.”
I glance over as Reyes approaches with a thin folder in his hands, his eyes sunken but still sharp.
“The board’s already spinning it,” he mutters, passing me the file. “They’re calling it a coordinated cyber-attack.”
“Of course they are,” I say, flipping through the staged reports and fabricated memos—just another set of lies to stack on the rubble.
“They’re sending clean-up crews,” Reyes adds, his voice heavy with disgust.
“They won’t find anything left to clean,” I mutter, staring down the empty corridor, where every secret has already been erased.
My chest tightens as I scan the ruined files. Celeste’s name appears again and again, tangled in every project, every test. She was their weapon. Their shield.
And now she’s their ghost.
Hours later, after the last of the staff is escorted out, patients are moved to other clinics or their homes, and the doors are locked, I stay behind, leaning against the darkened reception desk.
The place feels colder now. Emptier. Like it knows the kingdom has fallen.
My phone vibrates. It’s a message.
