Page 15 of Fractured Loyalties
Now I can protect her fully, whether she realizes it or not.
The rest of the evening slips into its usual rhythm. Meetings, signatures, carefully orchestrated conversations. Every interaction is precise, deliberate—nothing wasted. Yet beneath the poised exterior, my thoughts keep returning to her, tangled and persistent.
By late evening, I review the new surveillance streams again. Mara, now home, her silhouette occasionally passes the curtained windows, movements cautious and careful. From the exterior cameras and the hallway feed, I glimpse enough—every hesitation at the window, the careful way she checks her door again. Each subtle motion speaks of vigilance, confirming my decision. Caleb isn't a threat she can manage alone. Not anymore.
I stare at the streams, piecing together her anxious routine through fragmented visuals and faint sounds captured just outside her door. The protectiveness I feel slides deeper, coiling with something darker, sharper.
The phone buzzes against the desk. Lydia. I swipe to connect, keeping my eyes on the screens.
“Caleb's on the move again. Just spotted near the edge of her neighborhood.” Her voice is calm, collected.
“Keep tracking him. Send me updates every thirty minutes.”
“Of course.” A brief pause. “How far are you prepared to go, Elias?”
“As far as I have to.”
The call ends, leaving the question hanging silently in the air.
I stare at the streams, the images of Mara’s silhouette continuing her anxious routine. The protectiveness I feel slides deeper, coiling with something darker, sharper.
I've walked this line before—control, obsession, protection. It's a line that defines me. But tonight, the boundary blurs further than ever.
Tonight, clarity comes from shadows.
Darkness deepens around me, shadows lengthening across the polished office surfaces. I barely notice when my assistant quietly exits, leaving me alone with the glowof surveillance feeds and a decision crystallizing with cold certainty.
Lydia sends another message, brief and precise: "Caleb stationary again. Parked three blocks from her place. Seems to be waiting."
Waiting. The word scrapes beneath my skin like metal against stone.
My heart beats a controlled rhythm, steady despite the tightening coil of anger and possessiveness that twists within me. I swipe away the message and rise from my chair, adjusting my cuffs as I move. Each step is deliberate, calculated.
I know the exact drawer without needing to look. It slides open silently under my hand, revealing a single object inside—a pistol, matte black, unregistered. Not yet used. Tonight could change that.
I take a deep breath, fingers hovering briefly over cold metal before picking it up.
This isn’t how I wanted it to unfold. But choices narrow when threats refuse to dissolve.
The elevator ride down feels slower tonight. My reflection is clear, resolute, composed in the mirrored walls. Outside, the air is crisp and sharp, the city illuminated in soft, distant lights. I step toward my car, the weight of the gun secure and familiar beneath my jacket.
I’m no hero. No savior. Lydia was right.
But I will be whatever it takes to keep Mara safe.
Even if tonight, it means crossing a line I can’t come back from.
The drive to Mara’s neighborhood is a silent blur. Familiar streets pass like distant echoes—shops closed, sidewalks empty.My thoughts sharpen, narrowing to a pinpoint focus. There’s no hesitation now, no second-guessing. Every moment feels like a thread tightening, pulling me inevitably toward action.
I park two streets away, hidden within shadows. I step out, the air colder now, a biting reminder of the boundaries I’m about to cross.
Walking silently through alleys, the pistol heavy but comforting against my chest, I catch sight of Caleb’s parked car ahead—dark, still, waiting. Inside, his form is slumped, unaware of my approach. The streetlight above flickers softly, illuminating the edges of the scene.
I step closer silently, narrowing the gap between myself and Caleb’s car. Suddenly, headlights slice through the darkness behind me, illuminating the street in stark relief. I halt, pulse quickening.
A police cruiser slowly rounds the corner, its reflective decals flashing briefly under the streetlamp’s glare. Caleb lifts his head sharply, his expression immediately tightening with alarm.
His eyes widen in panic, and without hesitation, he starts the engine. Tires screech as his car lurches forward, quickly disappearing into the night before the cruiser fully rounds the corner.
