Page 80 of Fractured Loyalties
I don’t want to face him. Not now. Not ever. The idea of looking him in the eyes again—of hearing that voice tilt soft just before it twists into something sharp—makes my stomach knot. Makes my body remember things I’ve spent years trying to forget.
The way he’d apologize before the bruises faded. The way he turned my silence into proof. The way he always said I made him do it.
No. I won’t go back there.
I pull myself forward, back into the now. Into Elias. Into the dark leather of the seat and the steady hum of the engine.
I glance at Elias from the corner of my eye.
He hasn’t said anything since I got in the car. Just grips the wheel like it might try to leave him. His jaw flexes every time a streetlight cuts across his face, painting and erasing him in equal measure.
And I catch myself wondering—again—why I always end up here.
With men like this.
Men who burn slow but hot, who carry violence in their bones like it’s a second language. Who watch the world like predators, even when they swear they’re trying to protect it.
Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I keep circling men like Elias because danger doesn’t scare me as much as being unseen.
But even that thought feels too fragile, too revealing.
The truth is: I don’t know why I trust him. I just do. And maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
He’s trying to protect me.
He’s not pretending to be safe. Not lying about who he is or what he’s capable of. But he’s also not asking me to be soft. Or smaller. Or silent.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
“Are you angry?” I ask, staring at the blur of buildings outside.
“No.”
He doesn’t look over. Just drives.
“But you wanted to be.”
“I still might be,” he admits. “But not at you.”
The silence thickens between us again. Not empty. Just full of all the things we haven’t said yet.
“You shouldn’t have had to face that alone,” he adds.
“I didn’t.”
His knuckles tighten on the wheel.
“You didn’t come in,” I say.
“If I had, it would’ve changed things. He would’ve scattered faster. We wouldn’t have gotten a look at what he wanted.”
“What did he want?”
Elias doesn’t answer right away. I think he’s weighing how much I need to know.
Finally, he says, “To be seen. He wanted you to notice him. He was bait.”
My stomach twists.
