Page 70 of Fractured Devotion
Not yet.
Just to plant the idea.
To become the safest person in her world.
So when the next wave hits, she won’t run from me.
She’ll run to me.
And that’s when I’ll take her.
Chapter 23 – Kade - Shadow Games
My eyes haven’t left the monitors since last night. Hours bleed into each other, shadows crawl across the walls, and the cold glow of screens becomes my only companion. I rewind the footage again, frame-by-frame, and force my breathing steady, even though anger pulses hot beneath my skin.
Whoever slipped into Celeste’s apartment did so with surgical precision, fluid motions executed without hesitation. The figure moved exactly where my cameras couldn’t see, intentionally navigating blind spots as if they had installed the damn surveillance themselves.
My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding until the dull ache shoots into my temples. I replay the intruder’s movements, looking for the smallest slip or an overlooked detail—something I can use. But every motion is calculated and perfect.
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning back and pushing my fingers through hair that’s grown unkempt overnight. I’m meticulous by nature and controlled to a fault. But this intruder was beyond careful; they were flawless. It makes my blood run cold. And hot. It’s an invasion, not just of her space but mine too. A challenge. A threat.
I glance at the other screen, which shows the latest timestamp of Celeste’s movements. She left for the clinic twenty minutes ago with tense shoulders set beneath a tailored coat, her wary eyes checking every corner she passed.
Something inside me stirs, the twisted blend of protectiveness and possessiveness tightening around my chest.
She suspects something. She knows she’s being watched, though not yet by whom. The paranoia might be hers alone, but the fear brewing inside her can be my strongest weapon.
If I play this right, she’ll come to me willingly, driven by instinct to the only man who understands her anxiety, her fears, who can soothe the very chaos he created.
But first, I need answers. I swivel in my chair, grab the tablet, and open the clinic’s security log. Each entry scrolls by in stark black letters on white, clinical and emotionless.
My fingers pause on one timestamp—Celeste’s access ID duplicated twice in the last week, her movements recorded at times and locations she couldn’t possibly have visited. My pulse quickens.
Anger coils tight and sharp, fueling the dangerous edges of my thoughts. Someone is using her credentials and mimicking her identity to move unseen.
I pull up another tab, digging deeper into access points, camera outages, and door logs. Each discovery tightens the knot in my gut. The intruder is sophisticated enough to shadow her digitally and mimic her movements, even falsify digital footprints. It’s chilling, and maybe personal.
But the intrusion could also be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for—the justification for my presence. I can make myself essential, irreplaceable. Not just the silent watcher, but the vigilant protector. My grip tightens around the tablet, and I pace to shake off restless energy, planning each step carefully.
The clinic is buzzing in its own rhythm when I arrive, the staff absorbed in routine and oblivious to the darkness threading silently through their halls. I move smoothly, nodding politely at greetings without engaging deeply.
I’m just about to head toward Celeste’s office when a sharp voice slices through the ambient hum of the clinic. “Kade, a moment.” Rourke’s tone leaves no room for refusal, and I turn slowly, meeting his cold, analytical gaze from across the corridor.
“Of course,” I reply, feigning neutrality, though tension coils tighter in my gut.
He turns abruptly, expecting me to follow, and I move swiftly behind him toward his office, our footsteps echoing lightly on the polished tile. Inside, he closes the door and rounds his desk before settling into his chair with an expectant air.
“Sit,” he commands tersely. I comply without hesitation, carefully masking my irritation.
“Update,” Rourke demands bluntly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his eyes locked unwaveringly on mine. “What have you found out about Celeste’s recent behavior?”
My pulse quickens slightly as I weigh my options, deliberately withholding my discovery of the intrusion. “She’s anxious, paranoid even,” I respond, carefully choosing my words. “But no significant developments yet. It seems to be mostly internal stress—her own insecurities amplified by recent events.”
Rourke studies me closely, and the scrutiny is uncomfortable, piercing. I maintain a neutral facade, betraying nothing of my personal stake. “Is that all?” he asks sharply.
I nod once, my face carefully blank. “For now. I’m monitoring the situation closely.”
He sighs, irritated yet resigned. “Fine. I need you elsewhere today. Immediately. There’s an issue at the downtown lab. Someone got sloppy and left behind sensitive materials. I want it handled discreetly.”
