Page 59 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

The motel room still reeks of sex, sweat, and smoke, the air thick with it as if it has seeped into the walls.

The purge timer hit zero minutes ago, leaving only silence and the dead terminal in the corner.

Morning light still cuts through the blinds, pale and indifferent, casting stripes of gold across the battered floor.

Celeste sits across from me on the bed, naked and unbothered, her skin still flushed, dark hair falling loose over her shoulders, and tangled from everything we did. Her thighs are marked from my grip, from her own choices. She wears the aftermath like proof.

I pull on my pants, the rest of my clothes hanging loosely around me, the second drive tucked inside my coat. The one we saved for Meridian.

“We need to move,” I say, my voice rough from everything she stripped from me.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break her gaze. “Meridian.”

The word alone carries weight. Finality.

“We breach it today,” I continue, sliding the drive deeper into my pocket. “Before they get their footing again.”

She rises, steady and composed, every inch a queen in the aftermath of destruction. Her nakedness isn’t vulnerability. It’s defiance.

“We need a clean line,” she says, already strategizing.

“I have one. Offshore relay. No traces back. We’ll ghost through it.”

Before we leave, I grab my burner phone from the table where I dropped it as we entered the room, my fingers moving fast and dialing with precision. It only rings once.

“Two terminals,” I say into the receiver. “Clean, isolated, no logs. We’ll be there within the hour.”

A pause, then a gruff voice replies, “Understood.”

I hang up without another word.

Celeste watches me approvingly. “Contact?”

“Reliable,” I reply.

Her lips curve, sharp and dangerous. “Then we finish it.”

The sun is still high when we leave.

Before we step out, I reach into the hidden seam inside my coat—the emergency stash I’ve always kept in coats like this, always ready for emergency moments.

I pull out thick stacks of unmarked bills, folded flat.

I can’t help the faint satisfaction that stirs within me.

I’ve always made sure to carry cash tucked away exactly for days when questions cost too much.

I count it quickly, setting a portion aside before sealing the envelope and sliding it back into my coat pocket. Celeste watches, her gaze sharp and unblinking.

“Always prepared,” she comments, her voice low.

“Always,” I mutter, patting the envelope that’s safely in my inner pocket.

We don’t speak as we slip into the streets, our faces hidden beneath hoods and shadows. Every movement is deliberate, every step calculated. I keep her close, my hand brushing against hers in brief, steady touches as we move.

The city hums somewhere beyond the horizon, too far to hear, too blind to see what we’ve done.

We head toward the industrial edge of the docks, where warehouses sit abandoned and forgotten. The old shipping district is quiet at this hour, the roads slick with salt air.

My contact waits in an empty container lot, lounging against a rusted truck with a cigarette burning between her fingers.

“Lorran,” she greets, her eyes flicking to Celeste. “Didn’t think you’d bring company.”

“She’s not company,” I reply, handing her the envelope thick with cash.

She counts it without hesitation before jerking her head toward a rigged-up terminal inside a gutted van.

“Line’s clean. Two hours before they’d even think to look.”

I glance at Celeste. She’s already watching the terminal like she can see the code waiting inside.

“We won’t need two,” she says, calm as ever.

Inside the van, the air is stifling, thick with old engine oil and heat. The sun spills through the cracked windshield, bathing everything in harsh white light.

We sit side by side, our bodies close and our breaths steady.

Her fingers fly across the keys, breaking through layers of firewalls with terrifying ease.

“Six deadlock encryptions,” she mutters, her tone focused and razor sharp. “Failsafes, counter-triggers, and nested mirrors. They were scared.”

“But not smart enough,” I murmur, leaning closer.

She lets out a soft, almost cruel laugh. “I built most of this. They never changed the backbone.”

The first barrier collapses with a satisfying chime.

“Access granted.”

Her eyes light up with victory.

We dive deeper together, slipping through trapdoors and buried partitions and dismantling every secret they locked away.

“Here it is,” she breathes, her voice tight. “The root. Their core. Meridian’s heart.”

I take over, my hands steady, feeding in the purge commands one by one.

“Time to end it.”

The root directory opens, revealing everything they’ve hidden.

Names, experiments, surveillance data—every sordid detail, exposed.

“Delete it,” she says, her voice a lethal calm.

“Not yet,” I reply, copying every file to our drive, making sure we keep a record. “They deserve exposure,” I explain.

She watches me, her expression unreadable, but she doesn’t stop me.

When the transfer finishes, I trigger the purge.

Code vanishes line by line, data melting away, the system collapsing under our hands.

Celeste leans back, exhaling a shaky breath.

“It’s done,” she whispers, but there’s still a sharp glint in her eyes, as if she knows better.

I reach over, gently tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and letting my fingers linger along her jaw.

“Not quite,” I murmur, my voice rough with something darker than triumph.

Her breath catches slightly, but she doesn’t flinch. She leans into my touch with a subtle tilt of her chin instead, daring me to go further.

“Come get it,” she says, her voice a smooth challenge, thick with intent, every syllable like a match striking dry wood.

She knows exactly what she’s inviting.

I don’t mind a quick one right here, right now.

The sun still blazes outside, indifferent to the storm we ignite within the cramped metal shell of this van.

I press her back against the terminal console, her legs spreading eagerly around my hips, hunger blazing in her eyes.

“You want me to get it?” I growl, my hands already gripping her thighs and digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.

“I want you to wreck me,” she whispers, her breath a taunt, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.

I don’t ask twice.

I pull her wrists together, binding them with a length of cord that had been coiled near the console, tight enough to restrain, just shy of cutting into her skin. She watches me, her breath quickening and her chest rising with every controlled inhale.

“You know what this means,” I murmur, leaning in close and letting her feel the threat in my voice.

“I wouldn’t have dared if I didn’t,” she purrs, her tongue flicking out to trace my lower lip.

I shove her harder against the console, my hand slipping between her thighs, my fingers finding her soaked and ready.

“Already wet for me,” I sneer, rubbing slow, torturous circles over her clit, and making her shudder.

“Always for you,” she gasps.

I slide her pants down her legs, push two fingers inside her, and curl deep, drawing a moan from her lips as her hips buck against my hand.

“You don’t get to come until I say so,” I warn, pumping harder and rougher, relentless.

She whimpers but nods, her pride keeping her mouth shut.

I lower my head, biting along the curve of her throat, marking her, claiming her, and leaving bruises she’ll feel for days.

Her skin tastes like sweat and desperation, her body writhing beneath my grip.

I pull my fingers free and drag them slowly across her lips. “Taste what you are,” I command.

She sucks them eagerly, her eyes locked on mine, every lick a challenge, every flick of her tongue a promise.

I free myself from my pants, the blunt head of my cock pressing against her and teasing her slick entrance, but not giving in yet.

“Beg for it,” I snarl, tightening the cord around her wrists.

She grins, defiant even in submission. “Please, Kade,” she whispers, her voice breathless and thick with lust. “Fuck me. Make me yours.”

That’s all it takes.

I slam into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt, her cry muffled by the thick air of the van.

“Mine,” I growl, driving into her again and again, relentless and savage, each thrust forcing her body back against the console.

She arches, bound and helpless, taking every punishing inch, her moans growing louder and more frantic.

“Harder,” she begs, her voice breaking.

I obey, slamming into her harder and faster until the van rocks around us, the metal walls rattling with every brutal movement.

“You feel that?” I growl, leaning down to bite her shoulder and drawing a sharp gasp.

“Yes,” she gasps, her body trembling, on the edge of shattering.

I release her wrists just long enough to flip her over the console, her ass high, her face pressed against the cold metal. Then, I grip her hips and thrust deeper and harder, taking her with raw, unrestrained fury. “Come for me,” I order, my voice a snarl.

She obeys, her body convulsing around me, her cries filling the van as she shatters, helpless and undone.

I follow, spilling inside her with a guttural roar, every muscle tight as I empty everything into her.

We collapse together, breathless and drenched in sweat, tangled and wrecked.

The van is silent again, save for the sound of our ragged breaths.

Outside, the sun still burns.

Inside, we are nothing but ruin and satisfaction, bound by everything we destroyed and everything we took.