Page 292 of Fractured Allegiance

“You’re not as invisible as you think.”

“I’m invisible enough to drink my coffee in peace.”

“Not for long.” There’s the faintest click of keys on her end, like she’s pacing in a glass office somewhere. “The Bureau wants you back in. You come in quietly, debrief, hand over what’s left, and we make it painless.”

I watch a gull spiral down toward the water, its wings slicing the gray air. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you burn completely. Blacklisted. Hunted. Erased.” Her voice is clinical, but the threat hums underneath like a power line about to snap. “You know what that means. No badge. No protections. Not even a body bag when it’s done.”

The coffee tastes like metal now. I set it on the railing and rub a hand over my face. “That’s the ultimatum?”

“No, Silas. That’s the reality.”

I lean against the post, watching the tide slam against the cliff. Inside, Lydia shifts in her sleep, a faint sound carrying through the cracked window. “I don’t like your reality.”

“You don’t get to like it. You only get to choose which way you die.”

I stay quiet for a beat, listening to her breathe through the phone. She’s trying to keep her tone even, but I can hear it—the edge, the frustration. She’s never been good at hiding when control slips.

Finally, I say, “You want Drazen’s network? It’s dead. You want his files? Ash. You want me? Here I am.”

“I want my asset back.”

I glance over my shoulder. Lydia’s awake now, standing in the doorway, barefoot, wearing my shirt. Her eyes are on me, unreadable. She doesn’t speak. She just listens.

I turn back toward the sea. “And if the asset doesn’t want you?”

Naomi exhales sharply. “Then you’d better pray your new lover can teach you how to run.”

Naomi’s breathing shifts, a sharp rhythm I’ve heard in debrief rooms, in hotel lobbies, in cars with tinted windows. She’s always had a talent for turning a voice into a scalpel.

“You’re a name on my ledger,” she says. “And names on my ledger don’t disappear. Not without a body. Not without proof. So, either you come in now or I erase you myself.”

I drag my thumb over the edge of the phone, watching the horizon harden into a sheet of steel. Lydia hasn’t moved fromthe doorway. Her hair’s a mess, her legs are bare under my shirt, but her eyes are fixed on me like she’s weighing the cost of stepping closer.

“I’m not your name anymore,” I say.

“You think Drazen’s death buys you absolution?” Naomi’s tone is colder now. “You’re an agent who went rogue, Silas. You broke protocol, withheld intelligence, compromised an investigation, and engaged with a primary asset. You’re not a hero. You’re a liability. And liabilities get neutralized.”

Her words are a blade, but I let them cut. “You’ve got a file on me. You know what I’ve done. If you’re going to make it clean, make it now.”

“That’s not how this works,” she snaps. “You don’t get to choose the method. You come in and hand over everything you took from Petrov Station, and maybe—maybe—you get to keep breathing somewhere with a new name and a new job. Otherwise, the Bureau issues a black flag. And you know how black flags end.”

I picture it: the email going out, the men in suits, the contract set like a bear trap. Years of feeding this machine and now I’m the meal.

Naomi keeps going. “You’re already flagged, Silas. I’ve got the forms drafted. All I need is a signature. Don’t think your little fixer will save you. Lydia Carr is expendable. She was always expendable. This is your last call.”

Inside the house, Lydia leans her shoulder against the frame, arms crossed. She doesn’t look like someone eavesdropping. She looks like someone memorizing a blueprint. Her face is a calm mask, but I know her too well now. Behind her eyes she’s moving pieces.

I push a hand through my hair and let the porch’s salt wind sting my knuckles. “What if I cut you something better?”

“What?”

“A victory you can frame,” I say. My voice is steady, but my chest feels like it’s caving. “Petrov Station is ash. Drazen’s network is gone. The city’s power map just imploded. You can walk into the Director’s office with a headline: Bureau dismantles underground empire. You get your press conference. Your promotion. You don’t need me.”

“You think ashes count as leverage?” she sneers. “You burned it. That’s all you were ever worth.”

“Not all.” My eyes flick to Lydia. She tilts her head a fraction, like she knows where I’m going.