Page 7 of Fractured Loyalties (Tainted Souls #2)

"You're afraid," I continue softly, taking another careful step closer, closing the distance incrementally to avoid alarming her. "I understand that. But fear, when faced alone, only grows. I'm offering something better."

Mara's breath catches again, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing once more, suspicion battling desperate hope. "Why? What do you want from me?"

The question cuts precisely to the heart of our interaction. Honesty isn't typically a weapon I wield, but with Mara, truth becomes necessity—a currency more valuable than deception.

"I want to keep you safe," I say clearly, holding her gaze without wavering. "What happens next is entirely your decision. I'm not Caleb—I won't take what you aren't willing to give. But I promise you this: If you let me, I'll protect you."

Her expression softens incrementally, subtle yet profound.

Something shifts behind her eyes, a delicate fracture in her carefully constructed defenses.

Her breath shudders faintly, the morning breeze brushing through loose strands of her dark hair, highlighting the vulnerability she desperately tries to hide.

"And if I refuse?" she whispers, voice strained, edged with an awareness of consequences she's unwilling to fully accept.

"Then I'll watch from afar, waiting until you realize there's no other choice," I respond evenly. "But it might be too late by then, Mara. Caleb won't wait. He's already closer than you think."

She visibly recoils slightly, body tightening again, the terror at hearing the truth unmistakable. "How close?"

"Close enough to be dangerous. Too close for comfort," I say gently. "He was here last night. He knows exactly where you are."

Mara's expression cracks fully then, fear naked and raw. Her eyes dart nervously, paranoia creeping visibly beneath her skin. When she looks at me again, desperation mingles with reluctant surrender. "Please...."

The quiet plea twists sharply through my chest, igniting both fierce protectiveness and possessive desire. I keep my voice soft, grounding, reassuring. "Then trust me, Mara. Let me help you."

She closes her eyes briefly, taking a deep, steadying breath. When they reopen, there's a glimmer of resolve—a fragile yet tangible willingness. She nods slowly, her voice barely audible yet profoundly significant.

"All right. I trust you."

A surge of triumph floods my veins, tempered immediately by caution. I can't rush now—not when trust hangs delicately between us. With deliberate care, I extend my hand, palm open, patient.

"Come with me," I say gently, voice lowered to convey intimacy rather than demand. "Let’s talk somewhere safe."

Mara's gaze drifts to my outstretched hand, hesitation trembling in her posture, and then slowly, deliberately, she slips her smaller hand into mine.

Her skin is cool, fingers trembling lightly, but her grip tightens subtly, a silent confirmation of trust. I guide her toward the waiting car, my awareness sharpened by the profound vulnerability of this moment.

Every step feels weighted, significant, each heartbeat echoing with the gravity of our new connection.

Inside the car, she sits rigidly, hands folded tightly in her lap. I gently close the door, circling to the driver's side and slipping behind the wheel. The engine hums softly to life, the cabin filling with muted warmth. Mara’s tension remains palpable, yet she doesn’t withdraw or shy away.

As we drive slowly through the waking city, silence envelops us—a silence heavy with unspoken truths and simmering emotions. Eventually, Mara turns her face slightly toward me, voice barely above a whisper, vulnerability laid bare.

"Where are you taking me?"

I glance briefly toward her, my voice a promise, quiet yet unmistakably sincere. "Somewhere Caleb won’t find you. Somewhere safe."

She nods slowly, a delicate acceptance settling between us, uncertainty lingering, yet overshadowed by cautious hope.

The drive continues in silence, the world outside reduced to a blur of muted colors and shapes as we glide through winding roads toward the edge of town.

Mara remains quiet, her gaze fixed firmly out the passenger window, her reflection ghostly in the glass.

Her slender frame is still, shoulders tight, yet occasionally she steals small glances my way, curiosity and apprehension mingling in her dark eyes.

Every stolen look stirs something deep within me—a fierce urge to shield her, to possess her completely.

Finally, I slow the car, turning onto a private drive tucked between a dense cluster of ancient pines.

The road narrows, branches whispering softly against the windows as we navigate deeper into isolation.

At the end, a sleek, modern house emerges from the trees—a structure of glass and stone blending seamlessly into the surrounding wilderness, hidden enough to feel protected, yet open enough to keep the shadows at bay.

Mara shifts in her seat, eyes widening slightly as the home comes fully into view. She turns toward me, a hint of uncertainty flickering across her features.

"This is your home?"

"One of them," I respond quietly, pulling smoothly into the garage beneath the house. The space closes around us, dim yet welcoming, and I kill the engine, turning to face her. "You're safe here. No one knows this place exists except me—and now you."

She exhales softly, the tension in her shoulders easing incrementally.

I step out of the car and move swiftly to her door, opening it gently.

Mara hesitates briefly before accepting my extended hand again, stepping out carefully onto the polished concrete floor.

Her palm feels fragile, delicate in mine, igniting a protectiveness that borders dangerously on obsession.

Inside, the house is filled with muted sunlight, diffused through large windows that showcase the natural world outside.

The interior is minimalistic, meticulously arranged, calm colors and clean lines conveying order and control—my sanctuary.

Mara pauses in the open living space, taking in her surroundings slowly, eyes absorbing every careful detail.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs softly, a slight tremble in her voice.

"I'm glad you think so," I reply, watching her closely, searching for any sign of discomfort. "Make yourself at home."

She turns slowly toward me, vulnerability coloring her expression. "Elias, what happens now?"

I take a step closer, my movements deliberate yet careful, giving her space while slowly closing the gap between us. "We keep you safe. Caleb will never touch you again—not as long as you're here with me."

Her breath quickens, dark eyes fixed on mine, uncertainty warring with something deeper, more complicated. "And how long do I stay?"

My voice softens, the words weighted with quiet intensity. "As long as it takes. Until you're ready to face him or until he's no longer a threat."

She nods slowly, absorbing the gravity of my words, the permanence implicit in my promise. Her gaze drifts around the room again, settling finally back on me, her voice delicate, almost hesitant. "Thank you...for this."

The sincerity in her voice unravels something inside me, a thread of restraint slipping free, though I hold tightly to control.

Carefully, I close the remaining space between us, standing close enough to feel the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

Mara's eyes widen, lips parting subtly, awareness sparking unmistakably between us.

"You're welcome," I reply gently, reaching out slowly to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips grazing her skin softly, intentionally. She shivers beneath my touch, eyes fluttering briefly before meeting mine again, filled with an unspoken question.

"Mara," I murmur quietly, allowing my voice to resonate intimately, "I'll never harm you, never betray your trust. But I won't pretend I don't want you—I do."

Her breath catches, eyes darkening with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. "Elias...."

I brush my thumb lightly along her jawline, watching carefully as her defenses crumble further, her eyes softening into acceptance, into desire. "When you're ready," I whisper, leaning closer, my lips mere inches from hers, "I'll be here."

She holds my gaze for a long, charged beat, then suddenly steps back. Her eyes dart toward the windows, then back to me. "Elias, I appreciate all of this...but I need to get back to work."

The words hang in the air like a cold blade.

I straighten. "You’re not thinking clearly. Caleb is still out there. He knows where you are."

She lifts her chin, resolve sharpening. "He won’t come near me at the clinic. Not during the day. Not with other people around. He’ll never act unless I’m alone—and I won’t be. Not today."

Her logic is sound. Frustratingly sound. I pace slowly across the room, considering the angles. This isn’t recklessness—it’s her reclaiming some semblance of normalcy, and I can’t strip her of that. Not yet.

She watches me closely. "I need this, Elias. I can’t let him make me feel hunted. If I disappear from the clinic today, he wins. He’ll know he still has power."

I turn to face her, jaw tight. "You’ll let me take you. I’ll stay close. I’ll decide if the environment’s secure."

She nods. "Okay. But you won’t follow me inside. I need the illusion."

"Illusion won’t stop a bullet."

"But your presence will."

The calmness in her tone unnerves me more than fear would.

I grab the keys. "Let’s go."

The drive back into town is short but taut. Mara sits straighter than before, the air between us humming with silent tension. When I stop behind the clinic’s service lot, she reaches for the door, but I catch her wrist.

"Wait."

She pauses.

"If you see anything—anyone—out of place, you leave. Immediately."

"I will."

I release her, and she steps out. She doesn’t look back as she walks into the building.

I don’t loiter. I’m not a man without purpose. I drive two blocks east, toward the small co-working space I maintain for remote operations. It’s secure, discreet, and close enough to intervene if needed. I’m logged in before her first appointment starts.