The rain had started again by the time they reached Kael's apartment room which he had inherited from his grandma. It came down in fine needles, tapping against the windows.
Kael tossed his jacket over the couch and slumped down, rubbing his forehead. His skin felt clammy, his heartbeat still too fast from the alley.
"You sure you're okay?" Riven asked from the kitchen. He had already found a glass and was filling it with water like he'd done it a hundred times here before.
Kael took it from him. "Yeah. Just… a little lightheaded."
Riven leaned against the wall, studying him. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer underneath. "That wasn't just dizziness. You zoned out."
Kael hesitated. He didn't want to sound insane. Hey, so I just remembered dying in a room with you, except it wasn't really you. That would go over great.
"I'm fine," Kael said instead, sipping the water. "Just tired."
Riven didn't push, but Kael could tell he didn't believe him.
They sat in silence for a while, the sound of rain filling the room.
Finally, Riven broke it. "The man from the alley… I've seen him before."
Kael straightened. "Where?"
Riven's jaw tightened. "A year ago. He was in the background of some security footage I found while working on another case. Different city. Different mess. But his face… I don't forget faces."
"What was he doing?"
"Watching," Riven said simply. "Always watching. Like tonight."
The words sent a chill through Kael. He set the glass down. "He knew about the file."
"Which means he's connected to what's inside it," Riven said. "And if he's following us now, we've already gotten too close."
Kael almost laughed, except it wasn't funny. "Too close? We don't even know what the hell we're dealing with yet."
"That's the point," Riven said. "We need to find out before he decides we shouldn't."
They decided to go through the file again, page by page.
It was spread across Kael's coffee table—photographs, copies of classified reports, and a hand-drawn map of the city with several locations circled in red.
Kael picked up a grainy black-and-white photo. It showed a warehouse, half-hidden by fog. In the corner of the picture, barely visible, was a silhouette of a man standing on the roof. The outline of his coat looked… familiar.
"Is that him?" Kael asked.
Riven leaned closer. "Could be. Hard to tell with this quality."
The next few pages were lists—names, dates, and strange codes Kael didn't recognize. Some names were crossed out in thick black ink. Others had question marks beside them.
One name, however, had been circled twice: Nikolai Veyr.
Kael tapped it. "This stand out to you?"
Riven's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. I've heard that name before."
"Where?"
"In a news story, maybe five years ago. Something about a fire. Official story was an accident. But the people who died… they weren't random. They were tied to some underground network."
Kael felt that same strange pull in his chest he'd felt in the alley. "What kind of network?"
Riven shook his head. "Don't know. But if this guy's involved, it's dangerous. Very dangerous."
It was past two in the morning when they finally stopped going through the file. The rain had turned into a steady downpour, the kind that blurred the city lights outside into a soft glow.
Kael sat back, rubbing his eyes. "We should probably sleep."
"You go ahead," Riven said. "I'll crash on the couch."
Kael hesitated. "You don't have to—"
"It's fine," Riven cut in, already pulling the throw blanket over one shoulder. "I'm not leaving tonight."
Kael wanted to ask why, but the answer was in the way Riven kept glancing at the windows, like he expected the silver-haired man to appear in the glass.
That night, Kael dreamed.
Except it didn't feel like a dream.
He was walking down a dark corridor lit by lanterns. His boots sounded sharp on the stone floor. Someone was behind him—close enough for their footsteps to blend with his.
When he turned, it was Riven. Not Riven in his worn leather jacket and sharp gaze, but Riven dressed in an old military coat, its collar turned up against the cold.
"You shouldn't be here," Riven said quietly. "They'll catch you."
Kael smiled without meaning to. "I told you before—"
"I know," Riven cut in. His voice was heavy, but his eyes… his eyes looked exactly the same as they did now. "You'd rather die with me than live without me."
The words hit him like a physical blow. The sound of gunfire echoed somewhere far away. Riven reached out, fingers brushing Kael's wrist—
Kael woke up with a sharp inhale. The apartment was quiet, except for the faint creak of the couch springs.
Riven was awake, sitting up, staring at the window.
Kael rubbed his face. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Thought I saw something outside," Riven said. "But it's gone now."
Kael almost told him about the dream, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he explain something that felt so private, so strange, without sounding like he'd lost it?
Instead, he said, "We should check out those circled locations tomorrow."
Riven looked over. "You're serious?"
"We're not going to figure this out sitting here," Kael said. "And if that guy—"
"Nikolai," Riven supplied.
"—is connected to all this, we need to know why."
Riven studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. Tomorrow."
Morning came gray and cold. They took Riven's car—a beat-up black sedan that smelled faintly of coffee and leather—and headed toward the first location on the map.
It was an old shipping yard, half-abandoned, with rows of rusting containers stacked like forgotten toys.
"This place is a ghost," Kael muttered as they stepped out.
Riven scanned the area. "Which makes it perfect for a meeting spot no one wants to be found."
They checked a few of the containers, most of them empty except for dust and the cute rat. But near the far edge of the yard, they found one with a fresh padlock.
Riven crouched. "New. This wasn't here long ago."
Kael glanced around. "Can you—"
Before he could finish, Riven had already pulled a small lockpick from his pocket. A few seconds later, the padlock clicked open.
Inside, there was no cargo—just a single wooden box. On top of it was an envelope.
Kael picked it up. No name. No seal. Just a thick, heavy feel to it.
He opened it. Inside were photographs—recent ones. Him and Riven, walking through the market two days ago. Sitting at the cafe. Standing outside Kael's apartment.
Kael's heart dropped. "They've been watching us."
Riven's jaw tightened. "Not just watching. Tracking."
He took the envelope, flipping through the pictures. At the bottom was one more image—blurred, like it had been taken in motion. It showed Kael standing alone at night, looking over his shoulder.
And behind him, in the shadows, was the silver-haired man.
They didn't talk much on the way back. The weight of the photographs sat heavy between them.
Back at the room, Riven finally said, "This isn't random. You were targeted before you even knew it."
Kael met his eyes. "You think it's connected to that name. Nikolai."
"And to us," Riven said. "Somehow."
Kael hesitated, then said softly, "What if we've met before? Before… all this."
Riven frowned. "We haven't."
Kael didn't argue, but inside, the memory of the dream—the memory that didn't feel like a dream—burned like a secret he wasn't ready to share.
Somewhere out there, the man with silver hair was still watching.
And Kael had the sinking feeling that the closer