Page 83 of Break Me Apart
TWENTY-EIGHT
ARSENY
I hear it by accident. That’s usually how gossip starts. Hushed whispers in a corridor that are loud enough to drift into the wrong ears. Two officers are standing outside the admin offices with their voices pitched low enough that they probably think they’re being discreet.
I’m passing by with a folder under my arm, half thinking about something else, when I hear Caiden’s name, and the rest of my attention spikes immediately.
I don’t stop. At least not fully. I slow my pace enough to hear the next line without making it obvious that I’m listening. “…in and out of Zakirov’s flat,” one of them says. “Since the wife—”
“Partner,” the other says automatically.
“Whatever. Point is, he’s there a lot.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Somebody has to pick up the slack, I suppose. Still. Doesn’t look great. I didn’t realise they were close like that.”
I keep walking to my office and don’t turn around. I shut the door behind me and stand there for a second with my hand still on the handle. Caiden helping Niko is not the problem; Caiden being noticed helping Niko is.
That tiny difference is the whole thing.
I set the folder down, take my coat off, sit at the desk, and pull a report towards me, because my hands needsomething ordinary to do while my head processes what people could be saying.
It doesn’t work. I read the same sentence three times and take in none of it.
How long have people been noticing? Long enough, probably.
How many people have noticed? Even one is too many.
How fast will it spread? Fast enough.
That’s the answer to most things in places like this.
I stare at the page for another minute, then give up pretending to work. The decision is already made anyway. Caiden needs to step back before somebody decides to be more interested than this and my nightmare becomes a reality.
I find him between shifts behind the logistics building, where the wind is sharp enough to keep most people away. He sees me coming and instantly knows something’s wrong before I open my mouth. “They’re talking,” I say.
“They who? About what?” he asks, looking at me in confusion.
“People, about you and Niko.”
His jaw clenches straight away. “But— I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“I know.” That’s the worst part of it. He isn’t. Not really. “That’s not what matters,” I say.
He lets out a short breath through his nose at that. “Of course it isn’t.” Anger flashes across his face.He understands the rules too well to pretend they don’t exist, but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.
“They’re not questioning why you’re there,” I say. “They’re just noticing that you are.”
He looks away for a second like there might be something useful in the distance worth hitting. “So what now? I stop helping?”
“Yes, just for now. Let it all blow over.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he says, studying me for a second. I can see the hurt there; it’s brief and quickly buried, but I see it before he gets his expressions under control. That makes this worse.
“I’ll go more,” I say. “I’m his brother. I was already expected to be involved. You weren’t.”
“You’re already doing too much.”
“That isn’t relevant.”
