Page 187 of Fractured Loyalties
Mara’s pale. Her voice is steady, but tight. “What does he mean?”
I look at her. Really look. There’s fear in her eyes, yes. But something else too.
Resolve.
“He means we’re out of time,” I say.
Because if Volker wanted to use me as a myth, then Mara….
She’s his altar.
Mara doesn’t move. Neither do I.
Lydia clicks the safety back onto her sidearm and mutters, “I really hate cryptic bastards.”
Kinley speaks next, his voice low and even. “You believe him?”
“No,” I say. “But I believe what he’s afraid of.”
I sit, finally, because the blood loss is catching up. My shoulder pulses in time with my heart, and each beat is its own accusation. I was slow. Distracted. And Volker is still ahead.
Mara sits beside me. She doesn’t ask for permission.
I glance at her profile—the sharp set of her jaw, the way she hides her shaking hand in her lap. She wants answers. But more than that, she wants to be part of them.
“He said Volker needs you,” I tell her. “And he meant it. That wasn’t bait.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why me?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know yet.
Kinley steps away from the window. “We need to leave. Whatever Vale meant to warn us about, it’s in motion now. He called you because he knows he can’t stop it alone.”
Lydia is already packing her gear. She doesn’t argue.
Mara stands. “Where are we going?”
“To pull one more thread,” I say, rising slowly. “Before the whole thing unravels.”
We head for the SUV Lydia parked out front, and I instruct Kinley to pop the rear hatch. Tucked beneath the false bottom compartment are two tactical duffels, exactly where I stashed them since all these started. One is mine—black, worn, marked from years of rotations. The other is newer, smaller, packed in case we needed to go underground quickly.
I unzip the newer one and glance inside: forged ID, burner phone, folded cash in multiple currencies, a change of clothes, a second sidearm. It’s the go-bag I packed for Mara.
I close the zipper and nod. “We’re good.”
Mara watches quietly from the side, her brow furrowing. “You packed that…for me?”
I meet her eyes. “Always plan for extraction. Especially for the people who matter.”
She doesn’t smile, but something softens on her face. It stays with her as she slides into the backseat beside me.
Kinley drives. Lydia rides shotgun.
Outside, the wind has picked up. The sky looks like it’s been scraped raw, clouds dragging low and fast across the pine-covered hills.
Mara watches me quietly for several minutes, then asks, “If he’s using me…do you think he knew I’d come with you?”
