Chapter 53: Fault Lines

The room felt smaller after that message.

Not because the walls had moved but because something invisible had slipped between us, widening cracks I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. The air was heavy with unspoken questions, with glances that lingered too long and words that stopped just short of being said.

Which of them do you think will betray you first?

I locked my phone screen and curled my fingers around it like it could shield me from the weight of the question. I didn’t look up immediately. I didn’t want to see their faces not yet. Because once I did, I knew I’d start searching for signs. Doubt had a way of infecting everything it touched.

Elliot broke the silence first.

“Give me the phone.”

His voice was steady, but I’d learned the difference between calm and control. This was the latter. I handed it over without a word. He read the message once, then again, his jaw tightening with each second.

“This is deliberate,” he said finally. “They’re trying to fracture us.”

Marcus leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “They already are.”

I flinched at that.

He noticed.

“I don’t mean because of you,” he added quickly. “I mean because they know enough to exploit what already exists.”

My throat tightened. What already exists.

Feelings we never named. Lines we blurred. Silences that carried too much weight.

Liam shifted near the doorway, his presence quiet but commanding. My sister sat beside him, her hand gripping his arm like an anchor. He hadn’t spoken yet, but I could feel his gaze on me steady, unreadable.

“They took your journal,” he said finally. “That means they know your thoughts. Not just facts. Intentions.”

“Fears,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed. “And fear is leverage.”

I pushed myself up from the bed, ignoring the dull ache at my side. “Then we stop being predictable.”

Elliot’s eyes snapped to me. “You’re injured.”

“I’m alive,” I shot back. “And I’m done being reactive.”

Marcus straightened, interest flickering across his features. “What are you suggesting?”

I took a breath. “We stop waiting for them to move. We start controlling what they see.”

Silence followed.

Then Elliot nodded slowly. “Misdirection.”

“Yes.”

Liam tilted his head. “And how exactly do you plan to misdirect someone who already knows how you think?”

I met his gaze. “By changing the narrative.”

We moved downstairs, gathering around the dining table like generals mapping out a war. The house no longer felt like home it felt compromised, watched. Every creak of the floorboards set my nerves on edge.

Marcus pulled up floor plans on his tablet. “If they had access without forcing entry, they either copied a key or had one already.”

My sister stiffened. “Who would have a key?”

The question hung in the air.

I thought of friends. Old acquaintances. People I’d trusted without question.

Too many possibilities.

Elliot spoke quietly. “We change locations. Tonight.”

My heart skipped. “Tonight?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “This place is no longer secure.”

Liam nodded. “I agree.”

My sister looked torn. “Where do we go?”

Elliot’s gaze flicked to me. “Somewhere they won’t expect.”

I already knew what he meant.

“No,” I said immediately.

Marcus frowned. “What?”

“No,” I repeated, sharper now. “That’s not safe.”

Elliot’s expression softened just slightly. “It’s controlled. And it’s protected.”

“It’s also personal,” I shot back. “And if they’re trying to exploit emotional fault lines, that’s the worst possible move.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Personal how?”

I hesitated.

Then said it anyway.

“Because it ties all three of you to me in ways that aren’t… neutral.”

The truth landed hard.

Elliot looked away.

Marcus exhaled slowly.

Liam’s jaw tightened.

My sister’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

I closed my eyes. “It means this isn’t just about safety anymore. It’s about pressure. And they know it.”

We ended up relocating anyway but not where Elliot had suggested.

Instead, we chose a place off the grid. Temporary. Quiet. No personal ties. No emotional history. Or so we hoped.

The drive there was tense.

No one spoke much.

I stared out the window, watching the city fade into darker stretches of road, my thoughts racing. The journal haunted me. Every private thought now potentially weaponized.

Had they read everything?

Did they know how my breath caught when Elliot stood too close? How Marcus had always felt like unfinished business? How Liam’s intensity unsettled me in ways I didn’t fully understand?

My phone buzzed again.

I didn’t look.

I couldn’t.

The safehouse was stark and minimal. One floor. Reinforced doors. Clean lines. No personal touches.

It felt like a holding cell.

Elliot checked the perimeter while Marcus set up surveillance. Liam took charge of securing the entrances. My sister hovered near me, her eyes filled with questions she didn’t yet have the words to ask.

Finally, when the others were occupied, she pulled me aside.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

I forced a smile. “I will be.”

She studied me for a long moment. “This isn’t just about danger, is it?”

I hesitated.

Then shook my head.

“No.”

Her grip tightened on my hand. “Just… don’t lose yourself.”

I swallowed hard. “I won’t.”

But even as I said it, doubt crept in.

Later that night, unable to sleep, I wandered into the small kitchen. The lights were dim, the silence oppressive.

I wasn’t alone.

Marcus stood by the counter, shirt sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be walking around,” he said quietly.

“I needed air.”

He nodded. “You always did.”

The familiarity of his tone unsettled me.

“Marcus”

He held up a hand. “I’m not here to push. I just need to say one thing.”

I waited.

“They’re right about one thing,” he said. “This situation isn’t neutral. And pretending it is won’t protect you.”

My chest tightened. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He hesitated. “Be careful who you trust. Including me.”

Before I could respond, he stepped back, leaving me alone with words that echoed louder than any threat.

I returned to my room shaken.

As I closed the door, my phone buzzed again.

This time, I looked.

A new message.

Good. You’re starting to feel it now.

Attached was a photo.

Of the safehouse.

Taken from outside.

My blood ran cold.

They hadn’t just followed us.

They’d let us think we were ahead.

And suddenly, I understood the truth

We weren’t being hunted.

We were being herded.

The lights flickered once.

Then went out completely.

And in the darkness, a voice spoke from somewhere inside the house.

“Hello,” it said softly. “Did you miss me?”