Page 232 of Fractured Loyalties
My name in his mouth is gravity. It pulls and pins. My chest tightens because I want to step toward him, but the towel ghost memory on my skin reminds me: cage. Net. Bait.
“You’re bleeding,” I say instead, nodding at his hand.
His eyes follow mine, dismiss it with a small flex of fingers. “Not mine.”
The chill in my stomach deepens. “Then whose?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
That earns me a long stare, like he’s measuring how much I can take before I splinter. I hold it. My legs want to fold, but I stay upright. Finally, he answers. “Two men. One of them thought waiting near your clinic was wise.”
The tablet on the table suddenly feels radioactive. Lydia’s earlier words echo:placement, testing response time, bait.
I whisper, “And they’re dead now.”
He doesn’t blink. “Yes.”
The flatness of it steals the air from my throat. No apology. No hesitation. Just a ledger balanced.
Lydia breaks the silence. “Civic?”
Elias nods once.
Her jaw ticks. “I told her about the net.”
His eyes cut to her, sharp enough to draw blood. “That wasn’t yours to tell.”
“She deserved truth before it used her ribs for scaffolding.” Lydia crosses her arms. “You can thank me later.”
Tension wires the air, but I step into it before it snaps. “She’s right.” My voice is steadier than I expected. “I’m not furniture you move around. If they’re using me to pull you out, I deserve to know.”
Elias turns back to me. Every line of him is restraint, but it thrums with danger. “And what would you have done with that knowledge? Run? Hide? You’d be dead already if I hadn’t gotten there first.”
The words burn. “So I just stay blind while you handle everything?”
“You stay alive while I handle everything.”
The counter edge digs into my palm. Part of me wants to scream. Part of me wants to collapse into him and let the weight of his violence shield me. Both parts tear at each other until I feel raw, skinless.
I force myself to ask, “Would you ever let them use me? If it meant drawing bigger prey out?”
The question lands heavy. Lydia watches him carefully, silent now.
Elias’s jaw works once. His eyes don’t leave mine. “No.”
But I hear the ghost of truth Lydia gave me earlier:He’s not letting them. He’s pretending he didn’t notice they already are.
I can’t tell if his answer is protection or performance.
So I test him. “You said you’d protect me. Not your job. Not your pride. Me.”
His eyes narrow. “And I am.”
“But at what cost?”
The scrape on his knuckle flexes again as his hand tightens. He steps closer. Too close. My pulse spikes, but I don’t back away. I meet him head-on, even if my knees scream otherwise.
