Page 60 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

The air inside the clinic burns sharply, a bitter mix of bleach and sweat. The servers are dead now. Silent. The countdown finished hours ago, just as planned, wiping everything clean.

Thirty-two hours. That’s all it took to dismantle the clinic from the inside out.

The alarms stopped an hour ago, leaving behind only flickering lights and the weight of something already gone.

I stand in the hall outside the data wing, watching the last of the security teams pack up, their faces hollow. No one speaks. There’s nothing left to salvage here—no system to reboot, no files to recover.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaustion sinking deep. This isn’t just the end of Miramont. It’s scorched earth.

“Dr. Rennick.”

I glance over as Reyes approaches with a thin folder in his hands, his eyes sunken but still sharp.

“The board’s already spinning it,” he mutters, passing me the file. “They’re calling it a coordinated cyber-attack.”

“Of course they are,” I say, flipping through the staged reports and fabricated memos—just another set of lies to stack on the rubble.

“They’re sending clean-up crews,” Reyes adds, his voice heavy with disgust.

“They won’t find anything left to clean,” I mutter, staring down the empty corridor, where every secret has already been erased.

My chest tightens as I scan the ruined files. Celeste’s name appears again and again, tangled in every project, every test. She was their weapon. Their shield.

And now she’s their ghost.

Hours later, after the last of the staff is escorted out, patients are moved to other clinics or their homes, and the doors are locked, I stay behind, leaning against the darkened reception desk.

The place feels colder now. Emptier. Like it knows the kingdom has fallen.

My phone vibrates. It’s a message.

Unknown Number: Dockside. Now. No eyes. Come alone.

My gut clenches. I don’t need to guess who sent it.

I pocket my phone and leave without hesitation.

The streets outside are emptier than usual, but the weight in my chest only grows heavier with every step. I take the back alleys, slipping through the city unnoticed until the familiar scent of salt and rust fills the air.

I find them where I knew I would. The abandoned dockyard.

Celeste waits by a rusted van, standing tall in the fading afternoon light. Her face is unreadable, but something about her appearance tightens my gut.

Her hair is disheveled, her wrists are faintly marked, and there’s a wild, untamed glint in her eyes that makes my pulse spike. I can’t help but wonder what she’s been up to, or more precisely, who she’s been up to it with.

Especially with Kade standing right there, leaning against the vehicle with that same indifferent calm, watching me like a predator assessing a rival, silent and far too calm, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Jealousy hits hard, sharp enough to make me dizzy, but I shove it down, locking it away before it can drag me under.

“You’re late,” Celeste says, her voice sharp but calm.

“Wasn’t aware this was scheduled,” I reply, approaching slowly.

Her eyes narrow, but there’s no heat in them. Just calculation.

“We need to talk,” she says, cutting to the point.

Kade doesn’t move, but his gaze stays fixed on me.

“Privately,” I add, glancing at him.

Celeste’s lips twitch in something almost like amusement.

“Anything you say to me, you can say in front of him,” she replies.

I hold her stare, searching for the woman I knew beneath the mask she wears now.

“You burned it all,” I say, my voice low.

“We did what had to be done,” she replies, her tone devoid of remorse.

“You crossed every line,” I press, stepping closer.

Her eyes sharpen, but she doesn’t retreat.

“They built those lines from corpses,” she counters.

“And now what? You keep running until there’s nothing left of you?” I ask.

Kade shifts slightly, his presence radiating threat. “Careful, doctor,” he warns, his voice soft but laced with menace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I snap, my gaze never leaving Celeste.

Her breath hitches, a flicker of something breaking through. “Enough,” she says, stepping between us.

Her hand touches my chest, firm but not unkind.

“This isn’t about sides,” she says, her voice softer now. “It never was.”

The tension between us hums like a live wire.

“Then tell me what it is about,” I demand, my voice rough.

She exhales slowly, her gaze flicking toward the horizon before settling back on me.

“It’s about freedom,” she says, her words soft but firm. “About ending something before it ends us.”

“And where does it end, Celeste?” I ask, stepping closer, my voice dropping lower.

She doesn’t pull away.

“It ends when I say it does,” she answers, unflinching.

I reach up, my fingers brushing her jaw and forcing her to meet my eyes. “And what about you?” I whisper. “What happens to you when there’s nothing left to fight?”

Her lips part, but no words come.

For a moment, the air between us feels too thick to breathe.

I don’t know who moves first.

But suddenly, our mouths crash together, the kiss hard and desperate, fueled by every unsaid word and every broken piece between us.

Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, as if she can tear something out of me.

I taste her fury, her grief, her longing.

And beneath it all, I taste surrender.

We break apart, panting, but neither of us speaks.

Kade watches, unmoving, his expression unreadable.

But in Celeste’s eyes, I see it clearly.

This isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Kade doesn’t move, but his eyes sharpen, dark and steady, watching every flicker of emotion between us like a wolf observing prey.

My chest heaves, but I lock my focus on Celeste.

“You really are unrecognizable,” I say, my voice firm and bitter, more to myself than her. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Her gaze hardens, but she doesn’t flinch. “I know exactly who I am,” she replies. “And I’ve never been clearer.”

That hits harder than it should.

“You call this clarity?” I snap, motioning between her and Kade, the space heavy with the unspoken.

“Don’t test me, doctor,” Kade murmurs, his voice a low, amused threat.

I let out a short, humorless laugh, unable to stop myself.

“Don’t act like you’re some misunderstood martyr,” I fire back at him, my tone sharp enough to cut. “You think you’re any better than Rourke and his team? You’re not a savior, Kade. You’re just another butcher who wraps his knives in fine cloth.”

The tension spikes, thick and suffocating.

Celeste lifts a hand, palm out between us, her voice cutting through the air. “Enough,” she orders, cold and steady.

Her eyes flick between us, unreadable.

“This isn’t a contest,” she says, her voice clipped. “And I don’t need either of you fighting over me.”

Silence stretches long and tight.

“You really think you can survive this path you’re walking?” I ask, my voice rough, something desperate bleeding through.

Celeste tilts her chin defiantly. “I’m not just surviving,” she says softly. “I’m becoming.”

The words chill me in ways I can’t explain.

Kade watches her with something strange in his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or something darker.

“You always knew she was meant for more than your little boxes of rules,” Kade says, his voice almost gentle but laced with venom.

I shake my head slowly, the weight of it sinking in.

“You think this is evolution? You think this is freedom?” I ask, my voice breaking slightly.

Celeste steps closer, her eyes burning into mine. “It’s mine,” she says, the finality in her tone absolute.

Her words leave me hollow.

She turns without waiting for my response, walking back toward the van with calm, steady steps.

Kade’s gaze lingers on me for a long, unreadable moment. Then he smirks, wicked and sharp, before following after her.

I watch them go as I stand alone in the shadows, the taste of her kiss still burning on my mouth.

And all I can think is: She isn’t coming back.

Not to me.

Not to anyone.