Page 141 of Fractured Loyalties
My face.
Then Mara’s.
The display begins to flicker through frames—surveillance images. Some new. Some from months ago. Some impossible.
He’s showing me how deep he’s dug.
How long he’s been watching.
How close he is.
I step forward, gun half-raised.
The drone clicks. Doesn’t fire. Just backs away.
Like it’s inviting me deeper.
I take the bait.
Because now I know the truth.
This isn’t his trap.
It’s mine.
And he just walked into it without realizing what I’ve become.
The hallway beyond the drone is narrower. Older. Stone set behind steel. There’s a weight to the air now—thicker, wet at the edges like breath in a sealed room. I slow my pace. Let the quiet stretch. Let my heartbeat flatten out until I can hear the hum behind the walls. Not electricity. Not pressure.
Voice.
Faint. Piped through an old comm grid stitched into the infrastructure. No source. Just a whisper that threads through the static.
"You always did overcorrect, Elias."
It’s his voice.
Vale.
Not recorded.
Live.
The hum sharpens. Lights flicker once above me. Then stabilize. The hall opens into a chamber flanked by glass panels fogged from age or intent.
Monitors line the left wall—each one blinking through camera feeds. Not just me. Not just the tunnel.
Mara. Sleeping. Sitting. Turning toward sound. All from different days. Different angles.
He’s been inside my network.
Not just watching.
Recording.
My spine locks as the voice filters in again.
"She was always going to be the crack in you. I just had to wait for you to stop noticing the leak."
