Page 55 of Fractured Devotion
He’s walking slowly, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking far too casual for this hour. His eyes catch mine, and he nods. I nod back.
We don’t speak.
But the air between us twists with something silent. Something not-quite-welcome. Not-quite-avoidable.
He keeps walking.
I watch his back until he disappears.
And I wonder, how much does he already know?
The sun is still out, though it’s sinking behind the treetops and casting everything in bronze. The lot is quiet, and a few stragglers head toward the secondary wing. I stand still for a while, not moving, just letting the cool air bite into my face.
It’s not clarity I’m after. It’s silence.
For a moment, I consider walking away and leaving early. The day’s weight sits heavy across my shoulders, and going home seems like the only thing that would make sense. But I don’t move. Not toward the lot, not toward the edge of anything. I simply breathe in, then out.
I turn back around, step through the clinic’s door, and let the familiar chill of its halls wrap back around me.
There’s still time left in the day.
And I’m not done yet.
Chapter 19 – Alec - Pattern Recognition
It’s almost 5 p.m. by the time I finish the last diagnostics review and step out of the trauma wing. The clinic feels different today. It’s off-rhythm, like a violin string just slightly out of tune. It’s not wrong enough to make anyone pause. Just enough to pull at the nerves.
I haven’t seen Celeste since lunch. She disappeared again mid-shift. No word, no alert. Her terminal logged off just before one.
I told myself not to worry. Told myself she’s not mine to worry over.
But it doesn’t stop the weight in my chest.
The hallway outside her lab is dim. There’s no light under the door. No trace of movement.
I don’t knock. I just stand there for a moment, my jaw tight, my fingers twitching with questions I know she won’t answer.
There’s been tension in the clinic lately. A sharpening. There’s something about the way Rourke has been moving, the sudden staff rotations, the security protocols that change without notice, and Kade.
He’s always exactly where you don’t expect him.
Yesterday, I watched him walk out of Celeste’s office. He didn’t linger. He just closed the door gently behind him and nodded at me as he passed. But there was something in the way he looked, as if he already knew what I was thinking.
I went into her office five minutes later. Nothing looked out of place, but she wasn’t there.
And neither was the flash drive.
She keeps it close now. I don’t blame her.
But something’s unraveling. I can feel it in the gaps, the missed calls, the short, clipped answers, and the way she flinches when someone enters a room too fast.
The door behind me creaks.
Mara.
“She went down to the sub-level,” she says cautiously. “Alone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
