Page 71 of Fractured Loyalties
I didn’t want her to see that version of me. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I let him go.
Not because I doubted what he’d done to her. Not because I thought he’d disappear.
But because I didn’t know how she'd look at me afterward.
And now I regret it.
Not just because he’s still out there. But because I hesitated.
And hesitation is a luxury men like me don’t get to keep.
Letting him go wasn’t a moral victory. It was a mistake.
And the longer Mara stays visible, the more I realize—Caleb’s not circling because he’s curious.
He’s hunting.
I don’t linger around after she leaves the car. The breach attempt has shifted the hourglass, and there’s too much I haven’t closed. The longer I hover, the more exposed she is—and exposure is something I can’t afford.
It’s already late afternoon by the time I reach my office. I take the stairs two at a time. Inside, the place smells like still air and paper deadlines. I haven’t been here in nearly forty-eight hours, and it shows.
There’s a stack of files on the desk—some flagged, others lined in red. I drop into the chair, sweep them toward me, and start flipping through. Movements. Accounts. Potential intel on Discentra clients and flagged contractors.
Noted.
My assistant appears at the door like she’s timed to breathe. “Lydia’s on her way up,” she says.
“Good.”
She doesn’t linger.
Two minutes later, Lydia walks in without knocking. Dark coat, tied back hair, the scent of road salt still on her. She shuts the door behind her and waits.
“We need to lock down the clinic perimeter,” I say. “Discreet eyes—civilian look, high-alert readiness. I want a full-time post across from the main entrance, visible line of sight. They rotate every eight.”
She nods.
“One more on a loose tail. Moving radius. Three blocks in every direction. Low profile.”
Her arms cross, one brow raised. “Expecting contact?”
“I’m expecting escalation.”
“And the apartment?”
“She’s not going back now,” I say. “But she might. Eventually. I don’t want to wish I’d done this.”
Lydia doesn’t say I’m paranoid. She doesn’t say it’s overkill. That’s why she works for me.
“I’ll handle it,” she says.
“Also….” I pause, lean back in the chair. “Start vetting everyone in the clinic. Especially temp hires. Anyone who’s come on in the last four months. Cross-check their references against outside connections.”
She frowns. “You think someone’s in?”
“I don’t know. But someone’s watching. Too close.”
