Page 239 of Fractured Devotion
Then I break the seal.
The letter unfolds with a soft, worn crackle.
I know his words before I read them. They carry the same sharp, dark humor that has always been his.
He writes about cities that forget, about quiet nights and streets that never knew his name. He talks about dismantling rotten networks in other countries and slipping through shadows with his usual ruthless precision.
But this time, there’s no weight behind it.
There’s no ache.
Instead, there’s peace.
In every carefully chosen word, there is a subtle surrender.
“Some ghosts don’t want to be exorcised,” he writes. “They just want to stretch their legs elsewhere.”
I can’t help the small, soft laugh that escapes.
And then, at the end, a line that makes me laugh, low and unexpected:Tell Alec not to get too comfortable,he teases in bold strokes of ink.Although I’m not haunting you anymore, I still think about slamming his doors just to watch him scowl.
I shake my head, smiling, and fold the letter smoothly and reverently.
There is no bitterness in this.
Only the shared understanding of two people who walked through fire together and learned when to let go.
Alec leans forward slightly, his voice gentle. “You okay?”
I look up at him, my chest lighter than it has been in a long time. “More than okay,” I say.
Because somewhere out there, Kade has found his own kind of freedom.
And here, in this room, I finally feel like I have too.
I slip the letter back into its envelope and tuck it into the drawer of my desk.
I don’t need to keep it out.
I already carry every word.
Alec watches me with that patient calm he always wears when he senses I’m carrying too much in my chest.
But this time, I feel light.
“It’s Kade,” I say simply, smiling.
Something flickers in his expression—relief, maybe.
“Good news?” he asks, his voice calm.
“Good enough,” I answer, my smile lingering.
I stand and stretch, rolling my shoulders as I walk toward him. “Come on,” I say, nudging his knee with mine.
“Where to?” His voice holds quiet amusement.
“Lunch,” I reply. “We deserve it.”
