It was almost midnight when Kael and Riven left the cafe.
The rain had stopped, but the streets still glowed under the streetlamps, slick with water. Most shops were closed, their shutters pulled down like sleeping eyes.
They walked side by side, not speaking much. Riven had the file in his bag, zipped tight. Kael could hear the faint metallic jingle of something else inside—probably the lock picks Riven claimed he didn't own.
Kael shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "You're quiet."
"I'm thinking," Riven said. His eyes were scanning every corner, like he expected the shadows to move.
Halfway down the street, Kael caught it too—someone was following them.
Not the drunk staggering behind them. Not the homeless man curled under the newspaper stand. This was different.
A tall figure kept to the edges, their face hidden under the hood of a dark coat. When Kael slowed, the figure slowed. When Kael turned his head, the figure stopped completely, pretending to look at a poster.
Riven noticed. "Keep walking," he murmured. "Don't look back again."
Kael's heart beat harder.
They took a sharp turn into an alley that cut behind the bookstore. The streetlight didn't reach here—only the dim blue of a flickering sign from somewhere above.
The sound of footsteps followed.
Then the figure appeared at the other end of the alley.
Even in the gloom, Kael could tell this wasn't someone ordinary. The way they stood—calm, balanced, like every movement was calculated—sent a cold jolt through him.
Riven stepped forward, blocking Kael slightly. "Why are you following us?"
The man pushed his hood back.
His hair was pale, almost silver in the dim light, his eyes sharp and unreadable. A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"You have something," the man said quietly. His voice was smooth, deliberate. "Something that doesn't belong to you."
Kael opened his mouth, but Riven cut in. "We don't know what you're talking about."
The man chuckled. "Don't insult me. You opened the file, didn't you?"
Riven didn't answer.
The man took one slow step forward. "You should be careful. Curiosity is expensive in this city. Sometimes… it costs more than you think." His gaze flicked to Kael, sharp as a blade. "Much more."
Something in that look made Kael's vision blur for a second—
And then it wasn't the alley he was seeing.
The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder.
He was standing in a dimly lit room, old brick walls lined with maps and scattered documents. Riven—no, not Riven, but someone who looked like him—was in front of him, shirt sleeves rolled, a fresh cut bleeding down his cheek.
"You can't go," the other Riven was saying, voice breaking in a way Kael had never heard before. "They'll kill you."
Kael—the other Kael—smiled faintly, reached forward, and cupped the man's face like it was the only thing keeping him steady.
"I'd rather die with you than live without you."
Then there was shouting outside, the sound of boots on metal stairs—
"Kael."
He blinked hard and the vision snapped away. The alley returned. The silver-haired man was still there, still watching, but Riven's hand was gripping Kael's arm tightly.
"You okay?" Riven asked, voice low but edged.
Kael nodded slowly. "Yeah… just… dizzy."
The man smirked faintly. "We'll meet again," he said, turning away. "Next time, you might want to decide whose side you're really on."
He walked off into the shadows, and within seconds, he was gone.
Riven let out a breath. "We need to move. Now."
As they walked quickly back to Kael's apartment, Kael couldn't stop replaying that flash of memory in his head.
It had felt so real. Too real.
And the worst part wasn't the gunfire or the fear.
It was how desperately, hopelessly in love he'd felt with Riven in that moment—
Like he'd been carrying it for far longer than this lifetime.