We're Not Safe

Silence filled the room. The interviewer blinked. The crew behind the cameras exchanged confused glances. Jace’s words,we’re in danger, hung in the air, too sharp, too real.

River didn’t wait for an explanation.

He reached across Jace’s body, pulling the mic wire from his collar and muttering, “We’re done here.”

Sasha’s voice shrieked in the earpiece. “Do not walk out, this is live! You’ll make headlines!”

River shot Jace a look. “Do you care about headlines or your life?”

Jace stood, unhooked his mic, and followed him.

The studio exploded the moment they left the set. Sasha came storming after them, heels clacking against the tile floor.

“Jace, what the hell was that?” she snapped. “You just told the entire world you’re being threatened! That wasn’t part of the plan…”

“Plans change,” Jace said quietly, still holding his phone.

River snatched it from him and scrolled through the message again. His jaw tightened.

“Where’s the file?” he asked.

“In my inbox. Still downloading.”

Sasha stepped in front of them, blocking the hallway. “Look, if someone’s threatening you, fine. But you can’t just drop it on live TV. We’re in the middle of controlling the narrative, and you just told the public you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Jace said, stepping around her. “I’m angry.”

River followed him out to the car. They slid into the backseat, and before the door even closed, Jace opened the email.

The d******d was complete. He tapped the file.

It opened to grainy security footage. A hallway. A time-stamp from five years ago. The night his father died.

River leaned closer, watching.

Jace recognized the building, his father’s private office. But the angles were odd. Almost like someone had planted the camera in secret.

Then suddenly noises could be heard. A soft argument behind the door.

Two voices. One was his father. The other….

Jace’s blood turned cold. He knew that voice.

River looked at him. “Who is that?”

Jace didn’t answer.

On-screen, the office door opened. A man stepped out, face blurred. The feed ended seconds later.

River grabbed Jace’s wrist. “Who was that?”

Jace slowly looked up.

“Vincent Crane.”

River blinked. “Crane? The board member?”

“My father’s right hand. He’s the one pushing to remove me.”

River swore under his breath. “You’re telling me the guy trying to steal your company was the last person seen with your father alive?”

Jace nodded slowly. “And this file was sent to me now. After five years, someone wants me to know. But not why.”

River leaned back, his mind racing. “We need to talk to whoever sent it.”

“There was no name. Just the message: You should’ve stayed quiet.”

Sasha got into the front passenger seat, breathless. “I’m guessing damage control isn’t your top priority anymore.”

“No,” Jace said. “Now we play offense.”

They drove back in tense silence. Jace stared at his reflection in the window. His stomach twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. Fear? Betrayal? Rage?

All he knew was that this wasn’t a scandal anymore. It was personal and deadly and somehow, Vincent Crane was in the middle of it.

Back at the penthouse, Sasha started pacing.

“We need it legal. Discreet legal,” she muttered. “We can’t leak that file without verifying it.”

Jace sat on the couch, elbows on his knees. “I want proof. Real proof.”

River stood near the window, scanning the street below like he expected snipers. “We need to tighten security. Lock down your schedule and no unplanned stops.”

Jace glanced up at him. “You staying close?”

River’s voice was hard. “Closer than ever.”

They didn’t speak much after that.

Sasha left to call a contact at the NYPD who owed her a favor. Jace retreated to his office. River followed but didn’t speak. He just leaned against the wall, watching. He was always watching.

It should’ve annoyed Jace.

It didn’t.

Maybe because for the first time in years, someone was in the room with him and not asking for anything. No deals, no handshakes, no expectations. Just presence.

That night, Jace didn’t go to his room.

He stood on the balcony in a hoodie and sweatpants, staring down at the glittering city below. It was quiet up here. Too quiet.

River joined him eventually, holding two mugs of tea.

“I figured whiskey’s not the move tonight,” he said.

Jace accepted the tea but didn’t drink.

River leaned beside him, arms crossed. “You looked like you were going to pass out in that studio.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were pale. Breathing too fast.”

Jace didn’t respond.

River turned toward him. “You don’t have to be a statue all the time.”

Jace gave a bitter smile. “Statues don’t break.”

“No,” River said. “But they crack and they fall and when they do, everyone watches.”

Jace stared at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve seen people break from silence,” River said, voice lower now. “And you remind me too much of who I used to be.”

The air between them shifted.

Jace looked at him longer this time. 

“You think I’m going to break?”

River shook his head. “No. I think someone’s trying to break you.”

Jace swallowed.

And then, for the first time since the threats began, he asked softly:

“What happens if they succeed?”

River didn’t look away. His answer came sharp and fast.

“Then I’ll burn down whoever’s left standing.”