Page 276 of Fractured Allegiance

A faint smile twists Drazen’s mouth. “Ah. There it is. The arrogance I’ve heard so much about. But tonight isn’t about you.” His gaze slides sideways, across the yard, through the light—until it lands on Lydia, then a brief shift to me and back to Lydia.

Her spine doesn’t waver. But I see it—the flicker in her throat when his eyes pin her.

“Ms. Carr,” Drazen purrs. “Finally. The woman who cleans every mess but her own.”

Elias’s gun rises half an inch. “You talk to her again, and I’ll open your skull on your own concrete.”

Drazen chuckles, light, effortless, but it lands like glass breaking. “Protective, as always. And yet…” He gestures once, elegant, almost bored.

The rifles snap up in unison. Dozens of barrels pointed at us, Elias’s men included. Outnumbered, outflanked.

My instincts roar, muscles twitching for cover. But Drazen’s not here to shoot us into paste. Not yet. He’s here to break the stage first.

He steps closer, shoes clicking against the gravel, his soldiers parting in smooth lines. His eyes never leave Lydia.

“You’ve danced long enough, Ms. Carr. But the music is mine tonight.”

Two men move fast from the flank, rifles steady, and before I can raise my weapon, one of them barks: “Drop it.”

Elias doesn’t. He takes one step forward, daring, lethal. The soldier falters, finger tightening on the trigger.

And then Mara moves. She grabs Elias’s arm, whispering something sharp into his ear. I can’t hear the words, but I see the effect—the fraction of a pause, his jaw flexing, his finger easing away from the trigger.

I curse under my breath, lowering my own pistol slowly, keeping my eyes on Drazen. “You want her,” I growl. “That’s what this is.”

Drazen tilts his head, as if amused by my clarity. “I want proof. Allegiance. You understand, don’t you, Agent Ward?”

The word slams through me like a gunshot. He says it smooth, casual, but loud enough for every soldier in the yard to hear.

Agent Ward.

The soldiers murmur, shifting, guns tilting in my direction. They didn’t know. Elias already did. Mara, Jax, Lydia, they knew before Drazen ever opened his mouth. But these men, this army he’s built out of money and fear, they eat the word like it’s gospel.

And Drazen knows it. He’s not exposing me. He’s staging a trial.

The ground tilts beneath me.

Lydia’s eyes whip toward me, sharp, burning. Fury. The kind of cut that doesn’t need a knife.

Elias doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but I feel his gaze slide over me, weighing, calculating.

I hear someone among Elias’s soldier mutter, “What the fuck?”

“Shut up,” I snarl, my weapon still in my hand but heavier now, heavier with every eye on me.

Drazen’s smile sharpens. “You thought your cover was perfect. But I know my enemies better than they know themselves.”

The circle tightens. Rifles raised, boots crunching closer. Elias’s men glance at him, waiting, but Elias doesn’t give an order. Not yet.

And then Drazen’s voice softens, silken and deadly. “Lydia Carr. Prove yourself. Kill your pet agent. Or I kill Elias. And Mara. And the boy in the car.”

The floodlights hum. The yard holds its breath.

And Lydia turns her head toward me, eyes sharp, unreadable, a knife already in her hand.

The knife glints in her hand, and my throat goes tight when she steps forward. Not because I think she’ll do it; I know her too well for that. It’s because this moment isn’t ours. It’s theater, and the audience is armed to the teeth.

The men close ranks, rifles raised. One twitch, one mistake, and the floodlights cut us all into corpses.