Page 173 of Fractured Loyalties

Then I’m running. Back the way Mara and Kinley went.

Through smoke and screaming metal. Through blood. Through my own hate.

I find them at the loading dock door. Lydia’s voice in my ear.

"I’m above you. Rooftop angle. Covering the exit. Tell Kinley to blow the charge."

I bark the command. He plants the device.

Mara yanks the dock lever. The massive door rumbles upward.

I grab her hand as the evening air pours in, cold and wet and alive.

And we run.

Behind us, the charge ignites.

Volker’s trap collapses inward, smoke and fire spitting from the mouth of the facility like it’s choking on its own teeth.

We vanish into the evening.

Chapter 29 – Mara - No Safe Houses Left

We don’t stop running until the smoke turns to trees.

The fire behind us crackles and spits through the air, a beast we narrowly escaped with our skin intact. My legs are a blur beneath me, my mind lagging behind, still trying to process what we left in that facility—what almost claimed us.

Kinley leads the way, slicing through brambles with a feral kind of focus. Elias is beside me, though limping now, his shoulder dragging lower than it should, his movements tighter, slower. I can hear the sharpness of his breathing—controlled, deliberate, but wrong.

We burst through a final cluster of trees, our breath catching at the sight ahead.

Our vehicle.

The one we came in. Low-profile. Black. Waiting exactly where it should be. Hidden half behind brush and rock. Just close enough to hope. Just far enough to feel like a dream.

Lydia is already behind the wheel, eyes locked on the tree line like she never left it. She doesn't flinch when we emerge. Her only movement is the slight nod she gives when her eyes find Elias.

“You’re late,” she says flatly.

Elias grunts something halfway between agreement and threat.

Kinley yanks the rear door open. “Get in.”

I help Elias go in first. He stiffens, jaw clenched so tightly the tendons in his neck look ready to snap. But he lets me guide him in, lets me press a palm to his ribs when he staggers, and lets me shut the door after him without argument.

I slide in beside him as Kinley takes the front passenger seat.

Lydia doesn’t wait. The engine growls to life, and we lurch forward, kicking up dirt and ash in our wake.

Inside, the car is silent.

The only sound is Elias’s breathing—measured but shallow. He’s still losing blood. The sleeve of his coat sticks wetly to his arm, the stain spreading wider now.

“I'm worried,” I murmur.

“I’ll live.”

“I really hope so.”