Chapter 28: The Devils Who Knows Your Secrets

The storm broke after midnight.

Not outside but inside Ryan’s mind. His thoughts spiraled, crashing like waves against the fragile walls of whatever calm he had left. He sat in the backseat of Daniel’s car, clutching the hem of his sweatshirt, knuckles white, as Chris gave Daniel directions from the passenger seat.

They didn’t tell him where they were going. Just that it was safer. More private.

Ryan didn’t care.

Adrien had taken something he wasn’t supposed to something sacred. The black journal was more than a notebook; it was a sanctuary.

A place Ryan had bled onto page after page. His fears. His nightmares. His shame. His half written letters to Daniel he never meant to send. And now Adrien had it.

He could barely breathe.

“You okay?” Daniel’s voice came gently from the driver’s seat, cutting through the thick silence.

Ryan didn’t answer.

Chris turned halfway to look at him, face tight with worry. “We’re almost there. You’ll like the place. It’s isolated. No way for him to follow you without someone noticing.”

Ryan finally spoke. “How long have you been planning this?”

Chris and Daniel exchanged a look.

“Since the night he slipped the first note under the door,” Chris admitted. “We hoped we wouldn’t need it.”

Ryan nodded, but his chest ached. So they knew this would get worse. They always knew.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a cabin surrounded by tall trees, tucked deep off a winding backroad. The windows glowed with soft light, and the porch had an old rocking chair that moved slightly in the breeze. Daniel helped Ryan out while Chris checked the area with a flashlight.

“Who owns this place?” Ryan asked, his voice hoarse.

“My aunt,” Daniel said quietly. “She used to be a therapist. Retired years ago, but she always said if any of us needed a place to fall apart, we could use it.”

Ryan almost laughed at that. A place to fall apart. How fitting.

They stepped inside. The space smelled of cedar and old books. Warm blankets hung over the couch, and a fire had already been lit in the hearth. Chris locked the doors. Twice.

Daniel handed Ryan a bottle of water and then gave him space, sitting on the edge of a faded armchair. Ryan lowered himself onto the couch like he was afraid it might collapse beneath him.

Chris turned from the window. “I’ll stay up. You should rest.”

“I can’t,” Ryan whispered. “I can’t sleep knowing he has it.”

Daniel leaned forward. “Ryan. We’ll find a way to get it back.”

Ryan looked up at him. “What if he posts it online? What if he already has? My whole life is in there.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Then we deal with it. Together.”

Chris sat beside him. “You’re not alone in this. Not now. Not ever.”

Ryan didn’t speak, but he let Chris lean into him, his presence grounding. Daniel watched them in silence, eyes unreadable.

Outside, the wind howled.

Inside, a plan began to form.

It came the next morning.

Ryan hadn’t slept. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice brittle. But he was calm too calm. He sat at the cabin’s kitchen table, the untouched cup of tea in front of him cooling as he flipped open his laptop.

“I want to write him a letter,” he said. “Public. I want to take back control.”

Chris blinked. “A letter to Adrien?”

Daniel frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Ryan nodded. “I don’t care if it’s smart. He stole my words. I’m going to give him some he didn’t ask for.”

They tried to talk him out of it. He didn’t budge.

The letter was raw. Sharp. Honest. It didn’t name Adrien directly, but everyone would know. He wrote about being watched.

About being touched without permission. About losing sleep, safety, and parts of himself he thought were untouchable. He wrote about reclaiming power.

He ended it with: “You can hold my journal, but you’ll never understand what’s in it. You can read every word I wrote, but you’ll never be the one I was writing to.”

When he posted it to the school’s forum and his anonymous blog, Chris hovered beside him, biting his lip.

“That’s gonna explode,” he said softly.

“Good,” Ryan said. “Let it.”

It took only hours.

By nightfall, the post had over four hundred comments. Students rallied around it. Professors quietly shared it. And among the support came rumors whispers about Adrien being seen near campus again, this time outside the administration building, arguing with someone. His father.

Ryan’s phone buzzed once. A number he didn’t recognize.

One photo.

Adrien standing in a dark hallway. Holding Ryan’s journal, wide open. On the page, Ryan could just barely make out one sentence: “I think I love Daniel, but I don’t know if I deserve to.”

Chris saw the photo over his shoulder and cursed.

Daniel didn’t say anything. He just reached for Ryan’s hand.

Ryan didn’t pull away.

His hands were shaking. But inside, something began to steel.

Because if Adrien wanted a war of words… Ryan was ready to burn every page to win it.