Chapter 7: What's left behind

Kael stepped forward, keeping Riven behind him as tension rippled through the room. Ari hovered near the wrecked console, Roman’s laptop clutched tight. Harlow stood from where she’d been crouched behind a fallen beam, her face drawn but steady.

Mason stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his coat, voice calm and unnerving. “I wondered when you’d all arrive,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Kael didn’t flinch. “We’re not here to talk. Get out of our way.”

Mason’s mouth curled. “You think this is victory? You’ve barely peeled back the first layer. You don’t even know what you’re walking into.”

Roman stepped forward. “You torched the house. You endangered everyone.”

Mason gave a slow nod. “I warned you to stay buried. But no one listens anymore. Not until it’s too late.”

Harlow locked eyes with him. “Are you planning to finish what you started?”

His gaze held hers for a beat longer, but whatever game he’d come to play, he was done with it. “Not today.” He turned, walking into the rain like he hadn’t just threatened them all. “One warning. That’s it.”

Behind him, the emergency lights flickered and died. The low hum of the servers choked into silence, and darkness settled in—punctuated only by lightning through cracked windows.

Kael let out a breath and reached for Harlow’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

—

Back at Kael’s house, everything felt smaller. Tighter. The yellow porch lights glowed over rain-slick steps. Mrs. Bea Lark was waiting with an umbrella in one hand and worry in her eyes. She didn’t speak as she hugged Kael, then handed him a thermos of something hot and calming.

Inside, they scattered across the living room. Roman unfolded pages of printed code. Harlow worked her way through decrypted logs on her tablet. Ari nursed a latte like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment. Kael sat on the couch, one arm draped protectively around Riven, who looked down at the drive in his hands like it might bite.

“Mason’s not just some small-town bully,” Riven said quietly. “He’s built an empire under everyone’s noses.”

Harlow glanced up. “He controls half this county—banks, zoning, even the sheriff’s office.” She looked to Kael. “Dean Briggs isn’t just his brother. He’s on the payroll.”

Kael’s shoulders tensed. “So we can’t trust law enforcement.”

Roman stood and began pacing. “We can’t trust anyone except the people in this room. And we’ll need more help.”

Ari smirked. “I know someone. Total hacker gremlin. Lives off the grid by the lake. He’s obsessed with vintage encryption and possibly Kael’s jawline.”

Kael raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Bring him in.”

Riven leaned against him. “I don’t want to go back into hiding. I want to fight.”

Kael pressed his lips to Riven’s temple. “Then we fight.”

—

Later that night, Kael opened the door to his room without a word. Riven followed, tension coiled beneath his skin. The storm outside had quieted, but the air still vibrated with everything left unsaid.

Kael backed Riven against the wall, their foreheads pressed together. “Are you okay?”

Riven’s voice was a whisper. “Not even close. But I’m here.”

Kael’s lips brushed against his. “Good. Don’t run.”

Their kiss began slow, unhurried, then turned hungry. Clothes peeled away in the quiet urgency between them, touches landing like answers. Riven dragged Kael down onto the rug, pulling him close as heat built between their bodies.

Kael found every scar, every bruise, every inch of skin that needed remembering. Riven met him with a need that didn’t ask for permission. They moved like they were writing history into each other’s skin—deliberate, breathless, breaking and healing in the same rhythm.

Riven came first, his body arching, his breath stolen. Kael followed close behind, the two of them tangled together in the stillness after.

Neither of them said anything, but the silence was full of understanding.

—

Morning broke cold and gray. In the workshop, they gathered around an old chalkboard Kael had turned into a makeshift war map. Lines connected names, locations, and threats—Silas, Mason, Leo, Dean Briggs—all tied to servers, money trails, and shell companies.

Harlow pointed to a red-marked location. “Concord’s data center. Smaller, less guarded. If we take it offline, we disrupt their communications.”

Roman added, “And while we’re inside, we inject the malware from the second drive. Every trace of their surveillance programs gets erased.”

Kael scribbled “Concord – 48h” in chalk, then turned to Riven. “Can you handle going back into the fire?”

Riven nodded. “Let’s burn them out.”

Ari tossed Kael a pack of cigarettes. “For luck.”

Kael lit one and exhaled slowly. “We make this count.”

As they packed their gear into the truck, Mrs. Bea watched from the porch, arms folded and eyes shimmering. “You boys better come back in one piece.”

Riven offered her a quiet salute. “We’ll try.”

Kael climbed into the driver’s seat beside him. The truck rumbled to life.

In that moment, with the storm behind them and the road ahead, they weren’t running anymore.

They were going to end it.