Smoke, Mirrors, and Choosing the Lie
1158 Words
Colson POV
I didn’t go straight back to Ezra.
That would’ve been reckless.
But I didn’t avoid the city either.
Avoidance smells like guilt.
So I returned to my apartment.
The place Ezra “generously” provided.
The moment I stepped inside, I locked the door and leaned back against it.
Silence.
Safe enough.
For now.
The fragment pulsed faintly against my ribs, almost like it was testing the room.
“Relax,” I muttered. “You’re not redecorating.”
I moved to the center of the apartment and carefully removed my coat, then my shirt. I unwrapped the fragment slowly, setting it on the table without touching it directly.
It glowed faintly.
Alive.
Watching.
The runes shifted lazily across the surface, like they were thinking.
“Alright,” I said to it. “Let’s discuss storage options.”
I paced once.
Twice.
Options.
I could hide it here.
No.
Too obvious. If someone searched my place, that would be the first target.
I could bury it.
Too traceable.
I could take it to Sage.
The thought stopped me mid-step.
I pictured her—hair the color of the northern lights, eyes sharp with distrust and buried fire. Zane beside her. Suspicious. Protective. Unaware of what they would become.
I exhaled slowly.
“No.”
Even if nothing I did changed the future.
Even if time would correct itself around events.
I wasn’t dragging them into this sooner than necessary.
I had already lived their story.
I wasn’t going to interrupt it for my convenience.
They deserved to become what they were meant to become without me manipulating the path.
Even if technically…
It wouldn’t alter anything.
Still.
There are lines.
And I’d crossed enough in my lifetime.
I stopped pacing and looked back at the fragment.
“Guess it’s you and me,” I muttered.
The safest place was mobility.
With me.
Always with me.
Amaris was right.
I could move.
I could lie.
I could disappear.
And no one in their right mind would ask a vampire to strip.
I smirked faintly.
“I mean,” I murmured, pulling a fresh shirt from the drawer, “they do sometimes. But usually that ends differently.”
I layered carefully—thin cloth around the fragment, binding it tight against my torso, then pulling the new shirt over it. Snug. Secure. Invisible.
I rolled my shoulders.
No visible outline.
No unnatural bulge.
Good.
I looked in the mirror.
Same old Colson.
Sharp smile. Red eyes. Controlled arrogance.
Walking death in tailored clothing.
Perfect.
Just as I adjusted my cuffs—
A knock.
Not polite.
Not hesitant.
Deliberate.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“…Of course.”
When I opened the door, one of Ezra’s runners stood there.
“You’re summoned.”
Timing.
Impeccable.
I didn’t rush.
Didn’t ask questions.
I followed.
The nightclub felt different tonight.
Quieter.
Watching.
When I entered Ezra’s office, I noticed the shift immediately.
Two of his largest men stood at the door.
Not decorative.
Not casual.
Guarding.
Ah.
Well.
That’s new.
Ezra sat behind his desk, hands folded, expression unreadable.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t gesture for me to sit.
He just looked at me.
Long.
Slow.
Assessing.
“If Kendrick has interest in you,” Ezra said finally, voice calm, “then something is amiss.”
I didn’t react.
Not outwardly.
Kendrick moved fast.
Too fast.
“That so?” I asked mildly.
“He summoned you,” Ezra continued. “Strange. Considering he’s not fond of sharing.”
I tilted my head slightly. “He likes to test people.”
Ezra’s gaze sharpened.
“Especially when he requests one of my best.”
My stomach dropped slightly.
“…Sage.”
Ezra leaned back.
“He wants her returned.”
There it was.
A flicker.
A thread.
He was fishing.
“Interesting,” I said carefully.
Ezra’s eyes locked onto mine.
“Is it your loyalty that no longer falls in line with me?”
The guards shifted slightly at the door.
Pressure.
Subtle.
Deliberate.
“Is it time I remind you,” Ezra continued softly, “who your family is now?”
Ah.
There it was.
Ownership.
I let out a slow sigh.
Not defiant.
Not submissive.
Just tired.
“Family,” I echoed lightly. “Strong word.”
Ezra’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“You owe me,” he said.
True.
Painfully true.
And also—
Irrelevant now.
I tilted my head slightly, then gave him the smallest smirk.
“Maybe I am helping Kendrick.”
The room stilled.
The guards shifted more noticeably now.
Ezra’s eyes flashed.
“Explain.”
I shrugged lazily.
“He summoned me. Asked questions. Tested boundaries. I let him believe I was considering shifting allegiance.”
Ezra didn’t blink.
“And are you?”
“No.”
A beat.
“I let him think I might.”
Silence.
I stepped forward slightly, lowering my voice.
“If Kendrick thinks I’m useful to him, he watches me less closely.”
Ezra studied me carefully.
“And why would you want Kendrick watching you less closely?”
“Because,” I said smoothly, “that makes it easier to watch him.”
The silence stretched.
Tight.
Controlled.
Calculated.
Ezra’s fingers tapped once against the desk.
“You are playing a dangerous game.”
I smiled faintly.
“I always do.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“And Sage?”
Ah.
There it was.
“She’s bait,” I said evenly.
Ezra’s eyes flickered with approval.
“And Kendrick wants her back?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She’s useful.”
Not a lie.
Not the whole truth.
Ezra leaned back again.
“You would betray me?”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“If I were going to betray you,” I said softly, “I wouldn’t be standing here.”
That hung between us.
Heavy.
Measured.
Finally—
Ezra exhaled.
A decision made.
“Very well,” he said. “You will continue.”
Relief stayed carefully hidden.
“And if I discover your loyalty is divided,” he added quietly, “I will remind you exactly where you belong.”
I bowed my head slightly.
“As you wish.”
Dismissed.
I turned and walked out of the office, the guards parting just enough to let me through.
The second the door closed behind me, I exhaled slowly.
That had been too close.
Kendrick was suspicious.
Ezra was suspicious.
The watch was cracked.
The fragment was pulsing faintly against my ribs like it knew exactly how thin the line had just been.
And I had just volunteered to play both sides.
I adjusted my jacket and let a faint grin creep back onto my face.
“Alright,” I muttered quietly to myself.
“Let’s see how long I can juggle hell.”
Because until Amaris fixed that watch—
I wasn’t just walking a line.
I was dancing on it
- Writer
