Chapter 2: No one is safe.

The cabin was too quiet but not peaceful — just the kind of quiet that curled under your skin and made your neck itch.

The coffee in Riven's hand was bitter and watery, but it was hot. That was enough. He sat on the porch step, hoodie tugged low over his eyes, staring into the thick fog as it slid between the trees like it was alive.

It had only been two nights, but already the place felt less like a hideout and more like a slow, sprawling trap. 

His phone had two bars, barely. Still, when it rang, he answered before the second buzz.

Harlow.

“Took you long enough.”

Her voice cut sharp. “Took you long enough to almost ruin your life.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We’re not past anything, Riven. Your dick is still trending.”

He leaned back against the wooden post, lips tugging into a smirk. “So it’s true what they say. Bad press is still press.”

“This isn’t press. It’s war.”

She wasn’t joking. Not really. Her voice cracked just enough at the edges to let the truth bleed out.

“I’m in the middle of nowhere like you told me. I’m laying low. Happy?”

“No. Because you’re not safe. Not even there.”

“I saw a file. That’s it.”

“You saw more than that.”

“Harlow—”

“Stop. Just listen. They know where you are. They always know. That burner number? Do you think it’s clean? I only called you because if you die not knowing what’s coming, I won’t sleep again.”

His pulse triggered immediately. “You’re making it sound like I’m being hunted.”

“Because you are.”

He sat up straighter, “So what now? I just rot out here while everyone online calls me a fame-hungry whore?”

“You let the storm pass.”

“I don’t think they’re waiting for it to pass, Harlow. I think they’re building one.”

Harlow replied,low and careful, “You need to stop digging. Stop trying to remember things you don’t remember. Because if it all comes back—”

“What?”

“You won’t have anywhere left to hide.”

He closed his eyes. “You’re not really on my side, are you.”

“I am,” she said, softer now. “Just not in the way you want me to be.”

*****

The fog still hadn’t lifted by the time Riven walked into town. Harbor’s Edge was the kind of place where strangers turned heads and whispers moved faster than cars.

He ducked into the corner store. A few people glanced up. One woman did a double take. He kept his head down, grabbed the first things he saw — bread, cheap whiskey, a dented can of soup.

At checkout, he caught movement outside and turned.

Kael.

Across the street, lifting wooden beams into the back of a truck like a scene from someone else’s memory.

Riven didn’t think before he left the bag and stepped outside, walking fast.

Kael looked up with a pale expression.

“You're stalking me now?” he said flatly.

“You live in a town with three streets. Calm down.”

“You’ve been here less than three days and already stirred up dust that’s been dead for years.”

Riven stepped closer. “Why do you hate me?”

Kael wiped his hands on a rag, jaw tight. “You really don’t remember do you.. Hollywood?”.

“No.”

He stared at Riven for a long time, gaze cold and unreadable.

“You used to laugh like the world belonged to you”

Riven frowned. “ How?"

“You want me to remind you?” Kael’s voice dipped low and dangerously. “Gym locker room. Music room. Ohhh and that damn party at the lake house.” His hands fisted with pain and anger.

Riven stepped back.“I—fuck. I don’t remember that.”Kael now looked up into his eyes…

“Exactly.” And he turned away.

*****

That night, Riven couldn’t sit still.

He paced the cabin until the floor groaned in protest.Couldn’t silence the echo of Kael’s words no matter how hard he tried.

<You don’t even remember what you did.>

What the hell had he done?

By the time the sun began to slip behind the trees, Riven had woken up already,taken his bath and headed down town. He found himself outside Kael’s workshop because he desperately needed answers. 

Kael looked up to see who made the bell ring. Seeing Riven didn’t make him look surprised, though the nail gun in his hand slowed to a stop.

“Your house is fixed”.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Riven replied sharply.

Kael now stood straight,

“I don’t remember anything about us,” Riven said, voice raw. “But I know I hurt people. I wasn’t some saint. I probably broke a lot of things. But if you’re gonna hate me, at least tell me what I did.”

Kael walked around the table slowly until he was right in front of him, the tension between them like a wire pulled too tight.

“Why won't you just let the sleeping dog lie?

Huh”?.

Riven shook his head. “You sure you're not just pretending we know each other?”

Kael grabbed his wrist. Not in a hard way but not soft either then pulled him just a little closer.The space between them turned electric.Too hot and too close. 

“You broke something. And you smiled while it shattered.” Kael said in a whispering tone.

Riven swallowed, hard. He could feel Kael’s breath on his cheek.

“I-I’m not that guy anymore.” he stammered.

Kael stared at him then let him go. 

“No,” he said. “You’re worse.”

****

Sleep didn’t come for Riven again that night,or.. he chased it away.

The wind howled outside and the walls were giving off a moaning tone. 

Then—a knock..Riven got startled.-Another knock. This time he started searching for the closest weapon he could get. He found an old rusted sickle by the fireplace and held it firmly before going for the door. 

The knock was steady and rhythmic, like a message.He moved slowly to the door, heart pounding, and opened it carefully but with an aim ready to charge at whatever it was behind the door. 

There was no one, just fog and night. And on the porch table laid a napkin, white , flimsy and familiar. It was from the lounge bar at the retreat hotel.

He picked it up carefully looking around to make sure no one was looking. 

Scrawled in tight ink was a message:

<You were never supposed to be in that room.

You have 6 days.>

He dropped the paper carefully. About to go back inside.. his eyes met something..

Carved into the wood railing, almost invisible unless you were looking was a symbol.

A circle split by a triangle Precise and ritualistic. Like a warning etched in bone.

Riven backed into the house and locked the door twice. He then sat on the floor with a doubtful bravery and said;

“Well they've found me at last, this time I'm not running away again”. 

Whispering into the dark like it might whisper back,