Page 222 of Fractured Loyalties

And he’s smiling.

The smile on his face is wrong. Too casual for a man standing in front of me with a gun aimed between his eyes. It’s the kind of smile that says he thinks he knows more than I do.

He doesn’t.

“Drop it,” I say. My voice carries across the warehouse, no need to raise it. The kind of command that makes weaker men piss themselves.

He doesn’t drop anything. Doesn’t even raise his hands. “Vale said you’d sniff your way here.” His tone is slick, oiledwith arrogance. “He said you’d take the bait the second she was involved.”

The envelope crinkles in my grip. Photos of Mara stare up at me from the floor where I tossed them. Every one of them proof that Vale’s reach is already too close.

The little show over the phone back at the warehouse close to Volker’s facility is just a pretend truce. I see it now, clear as blood on concrete. It was never about peace or about me helping get Jori out. Does he even care about Jori anymore?

It’s just Vale being Vale; he was just buying time. Time to shift the board, change the angle. He doesn’t stop. He adapts. He’s trying to be me. And Mara? She’s never been collateral. She’s the fulcrum. The point he wants to bend until everything I’ve built snaps under the strain.

This isn’t about revenge. It’s control. He wants the edge, the disruption. Not a war on the outside, but erosion from within. He knows I’ll protect her. He’s counting on it.

“Where is he?” I ask.

The man chuckles. Not nervous. Confident. “You think I’m dumb enough to tell you? I walk out of here with my tongue, Vale cuts it off himself.”

“Then you’re not walking out.”

My gun lowers fractionally, not out of mercy but calculation. One step. Another. The distance closes, until I’m in striking range. He shifts, ready for me, but he’s not fast enough. My fist crashes into his jaw, snapping his head sideways. His body stumbles, slamming against one of the concrete pillars.

Before he can recover, I’ve got him pinned, my forearm crushing across his throat, the barrel of the gun pressed into his ribs. His breath hitches, a wet rasp in the shadows.

“You don’t get to say Vale’s name in my ear without paying for it,” I hiss. “So start talking.”

He grins through blood on his teeth. “He was right. She’s your weakness.”

I slam him harder against the pillar, enough to make the sound echo through the empty space. “Last chance.”

He spits red, lets it drip down his chin. “He knows where she lives. Where she works. Every step she takes. He wants you distracted, Elias. He wants you to start looking over your shoulder instead of at him.”

My stomach knots, rage cutting through me sharper than any blade. “How?”

“Eyes everywhere,” the man chokes out. “And ears. One of yours has already cracked.”

The words burn like acid. I push harder against his throat. “Who?”

His smile widens. Broken teeth, blood-streaked lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I press the gun harder into his ribs, enough for him to feel the chamber ready. His breath comes ragged now, less smug, but not broken. Not yet.

“You’re already dead,” I tell him, steady as a knife. “How much pain you feel before that is up to you.”

His eyes flick, betraying him. Not much. Just enough. Toward the far corner of the warehouse.

I catch it.

Shadows move.

Another man, another gun, stepping out. Backup.

Vale always doubles the bait.

The second man thinks he’s quiet. He isn’t.