A faint imprint of Arlo's presence lingered in the quiet apartment, as if the night's warmth had only been a fleeting dream.
When Ariel woke, sunlight danced through the curtains, warming her cheeks. She blinked hazily, realizing the apartment was empty. "Arlo?" she called softly, still wrapped in sleep's gentle fog. Only silence answered her.
She padded into the living room, expecting to find him perched in the armchair or sipping leftover hot chocolate in the kitchen. But Arlo was gone,no sign of him but an oddly folded note left on the edge of the table.
Ariel picked it up, a smile tugging at her lips as she read his hurried scrawl:
"Sorry, little girl,had to leave urgently. But thanks for the world's best hot chocolate. Don't forget to open a window and let in the day.
P.S.
Keep believing in stories,they make the world a little less lonely."
Despite the mystery and his sudden disappearing act, Ariel couldn't help but laugh softly at the phrase "little girl," and the playful mention of her hot chocolate. She lingered at her window for a long moment, letting the morning air fill her lungs, feeling somehow lighter and, oddly, just a bit hopeful.
After reading Arlo's note and letting the fresh morning air settle her thoughts, Ariel got ready to face the day. She carefully picked out her favorite cardigan, tidied her hair, and grabbed a notebook,determined to find out why Oliver and his mother hadn't been at the flower stand for days.
The streets felt different, quieter than usual. Ariel walked to Oliver's house, her steps quickened by worry. The address was easy to find, a modest little apartment tucked beside a row of elderberry bushes. She knocked, hopeful, but got no answer. The curtains were drawn, no voices inside. After a few minutes, her worry deepened; she left a note in their mailbox, promising to check back soon.
Needing a bit of comfort, Ariel strolled down the block to her favorite cafe,a cozy, sunlit corner where the barista always knew her order. She sat by the window, sipping her rich, creamy coffee, trying to let its warmth soothe her nerves. She pulled out her notebook, determined to start writing her novel again,a story about love in all its messiness, about losing and healing, the hope of new beginnings. But her mind raced ahead: tomorrow was Berry's wedding.
Ariel's pen hovered uselessly above the paper. The joy of creation was quickly smothered by anxiety. There was no news from Berry: no calls, no messages, nothing from Harry either. She tried contacting Berry's mom, but her calls went to voicemail,now her hands shook as she dialed, pulse pounding louder at each failed attempt.
She checked with their closest friends, but nobody had a clue. Ariel felt a cold knot of dread forming in her chest. Berry wasn't just missing; it was as if she'd vanished from their lives altogether.
Her resolve sharpened,she couldn't wait or wonder any longer. Abandoning her writing, she hurried out and made her way to the police station, feeling a mixture of fear and determination.
Inside, she explained the situation as clearly as she could,her best friend had disappeared on the eve of her wedding, with no contact and no word from anyone who knew her. The officer listened carefully, and for the first time, Ariel felt like someone might finally take her worry seriously.
Waiting for answers, Ariel realized how much love and loss had shaped her,how much she needed the people she cared about to be safe, to be found, even when the world didn't make sense.
Ariel sat shivering on a rough wooden chair in a pitch-dark room. Her blindfold pressed tightly against her eyes, hands lashed cruelly behind her back. The musty air choked her lungs, her arms ached, and panic clawed at her every thought.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor, then a pair of gloved hands gripped her chin, tilting her face upward. She recoiled instinctively, fear surging as stranger's fingers traced her cheek. The touch was cold,deliberate. Ariel jerked away, disgust and terror mingling.
"Don't touch me!" she spat, voice trembling.
A sharp slap cracked against her cheek, pain flaring and echoing in the hollow room. The man grunted, muttered something she couldn't catch, and walked away, leaving her bruised and shaken.
Alone again, Ariel's breathing rattled. Her shoulders slumped, despair creeping in: Was this how Berry or Harry suffered before disappearing? Had they been here, prey to desperation and cruelty? The weight of loneliness pressed in from all sides, thick as the darkness.
Her mind spun,fragmented memories, flashes of hope flickered and died. If only Arlo were here, she thought desperately, her mind reaching for the last comfort she'd known. She didn't even understand why, but that night in her apartment,his gentle embrace, the safety she'd felt,ghosted through her, clinging to hope.
Then footsteps approached, slower, more measured than before. Ariel's senses prickled; blinded, she relied on instinct. Something in the cadence reminded her of Arlo,the subtle heaviness, the deliberate pace.
Her voice, hoarse with fear but raw with longing, broke the silence: "Arlo? Is it you? Arlo?"
She called out, louder now, her plea echoing in the shadows. "Please… Arlo? Are you there?"
No answer yet, but the approaching presence made her heart race—not from terror, but from desperate hope. Tears welled behind the blindfold as she waited, trembling, for the truth behind those footsteps.
Her heart slammed against her chest as the blindfold dropped away and she saw Arlo. For a moment, all the fear seemed to dissolve, washed out by the tidal wave of relief and joy in his familiar eyes. Ariel's tears traced their way down as he crouched in front of her, his fingers soft on her wounded cheek, brushing away the pain as if he could erase it all just by touching her.
He leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. The room seemed to shrink around them, the shadows fading, time slowing to the thunderous beat of Ariel's heart. She could feel the warmth of his breath,soft and sweet, laced with the scent of cocoa and memory. The small distance between them felt electric, her lips parted, her eyelids fluttering as if pulled by gravity itself.
Ariel felt all her fear, her confusion, her longing for safety woven into that closeness. She glimpsed his eyes,deep and unreadable, pupils dilated with something she couldn't name. His fingertips lingered on her jaw, tracing a gentle path as if memorizing every curve, every bruise. Every cell in her body seemed to reach for him.
The air was thick with tension; Ariel's breath grew shallow, chest rising in anticipation. Her lips hovered just a whisper away from his, trembling with the hope of sanctuary, of love, of a life shifting in a heartbeat. The memory of him holding her in the safety of her living room, of kind words and gentle promises, flickered in her mind. Was this her rescue? Was this the truth of him,the man she'd wanted to believe in?
But just as her lips nearly met his, Arlo's gaze changed. The edges of his mouth twisted up,not in tenderness, but in a cold, knowing smirk. He froze, eyes hardening as he pulled back sharply. Instantly, the warmth between them evaporated, replaced by a deep, chilling void.
Ariel gasped, the moment ruptured by the sharp withdrawal. Her head spun from hope to confusion, the sudden distance more painful than any wound. Arlo straightened, lips still curled into that unnerving, villainous smile. He dragged a chair across the floor and sat, watching her intently,calculating, dangerous, as if deciding what to do next.
The light that had filled the room was gone, and Ariel felt terror slip back into her bones, leaving her trembling in a darkness that was suddenly more terrifying for how close she'd come to believing it would end.
Arlo's laughter echoed in the cramped, shadowed room—a dark, mirthless sound that sent a chill curling deep into Ariel's chest. The softness she had clung to in her memory—the warmth of his presence, the gentle promise of safety—crumbled with each cruel note of his voice. His eyes gleamed coldly as he leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled, watching her like a predator savoring the moment.
"What did you expect, babygirl?" he taunted, the words dripping with contempt and mockery. His voice was low, almost a purr, but lined with a biting cruelty that made Ariel's skin crawl. It was Arlo—the man she thought of as her refuge in the chaos, the one anchoring her to hope after Berry was gone—but now, he was something else entirely.
Her tears shimmered in the dim light, betraying the storm of shock and disbelief raging inside her. She felt the fragile thread of trust snap, unraveling faster than she could gather her scattered thoughts. The vulnerability she'd shown, the yearning for rescue, all met by nothing but this twisted grin and merciless words.
Arlo's smile widened, exposing a hint of menace. "You thought I'd come to save you? To be your knight in shining armor?" He shook his head slowly, amusement playing like a shadow behind his eyes. "No, sweetheart. The world doesn't work that way. Not for people like us."
Every word dripped with a dangerous promise, a bitter truth that shattered Ariel's illusions. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
He tilted his head, as if contemplating whether to grant her an answer worthy of the pain she carried. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally spoke again, his tone cold but laced with dark amusement. "Because sometimes the only way to survive... is to become the darkness you once feared."
The room seemed to close in, the shadows swallowing the last flickers of light—and hope. Ariel's breath hitched, caught between the remnants of faith and the harsh reality now locked in Arlo's malicious gaze.
Ariel's sobs broke through the heavy silence, raw and shuddering as she screamed, "Stop! Please, Arlo, stop this! You're hurting me,this isn't some game or prank!" Her voice cracked beneath the weight of her despair, tears streaming down her cheeks. Every shake of her body was a pleading, desperate plea wrapped in grief and confusion. She crumpled forward, her cries thick with anguish, begging him to see the pain he was causing.
As her sobbing grew loud and ragged, her emotions tangled in a chaotic web,fear, heartbreak, betrayal,all fighting for release. She clawed at her bindings uselessly, her voice breaking with each desperate word, "I trusted you... I thought you were my safety... please don't do this!" Her words echoed fragile and pleading, as if every tear and cry could somehow chip away the coldness in his gaze.
Ariel's voice cracked as she sobbed, "Please, Arlo, don't do this. I'm hurting,this isn't some cruel prank!" Her tears spilled freely, dripping down her cheeks. Her words trembled with desperation and disbelief. "Why are you doing this? I trusted you… you were my comfort after Berry left."
Arlo's eyes glinted with cold amusement as he leaned forward, invading her space with a calculated intensity. "Comfort?" he echoed mockingly, a slow, cruel smile tugging at his lips. "That was just a story you told yourself, babygirl. You wanted someone to hold onto, so you clung to me."
He softened his voice, feigning tenderness, but the warmth was a lie, a mask slipping just enough to reveal the darkness beneath. "You thought I was here to save you? To be your hero?" He shook his head, voice low and sharp. "No, sweetheart, I'm the darkness you never saw coming. And now you'll see what reality really looks like."
Ariel's sobs intensified, but she held his gaze, voice shaky but defiant. "You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be like this." But Arlo's smirk only deepened.
"Doesn't have to be?" he whispered with scorn. "Look around you. This is where you belong now. With me, or nowhere at all."
He reached out, fingers tracing her cheek with fake gentleness, as if mocking her pain. "You're mine to break or keep," he murmured, "and right now, you're breaking beautifully."
Ariel recoiled, tears and rage mingling. "You think this gives you power over me? It won't." Her voice hardened, fueled by survival instinct.
Arlo's lips curled once more, a predator savoring the hunt. "Oh, but it already does, babygirl. And you'll learn just how far." His gaze sharpened, promising torment disguised as twisted intimacy.
Arlo's voice cut through the dark, calm facade, cold and commanding. "Do you remember anything, Ariel? Let me help you," he sneered, as a shadowy figure emerged from one of the cars. The men surrounding her moved swiftly, their gloved hands firmly gripping the bound and taped figure of Berry. Inside the vehicle, she was helpless—tied and silenced, her muffled protests lost in the thick air of tension. The men dragged her out, and her eyes fluttered desperately, searching for any sign of her friend.
Suddenly, the scene shifted—another car roared onto the scene from the opposite side, its engine deafening, a beast ready to attack. Ariel's eyes widened in horror as a man forcefully pressed a tape over her mouth, her cheeks trembling with the need to scream, to cry out, to warn. Her hands flailed instinctively, trying to stop him, but her voice was choked, silenced before it could reach the world.
The powerful engine of the approaching car drowned out her muffled screams. In an instant, it charged forward relentlessly—the sound of the engine roaring like a savage beast. The impact was deafening and sudden. Metal crunched, glass shattered into deadly shards, and the ground trembled beneath them. The force of the collision sent the car with Berry inside flipping violently—a violent, uncontrollable roll.
In that chaotic moment, Eagle-eyed and trembling, their gazes locked—Berry and Ariel's eyes met. Tears welled up in both, shimmering with shock, despair, and love intertwined in that final instant. Their hearts ached as the car's twisted carcass came to a violent stop, smoke curling from the wreckage.
Ariel's cry tore through the air—an agonized scream of helplessness as she watched Berry, helpless and battered, inside the mangled vehicle. The twisted metal and shattered glass reflected the shattered fragments of her hope. And then, amidst the wreckage, Arlo's cruel, vengeful smile twisted into that same sinister expression as when her parents died—cold, merciless, and final.
In that brutal moment, the truth hit her with staggering clarity—Arlo had orchestrated Berry's death with the same ruthless, remorseless cruelty her parents died that day, sealing her pain with a heartbreak that would remain etched forever. She trusted him and shared everything to him in hope he will be her bandage but instead he became that wound that might hurt Ariel in a much worse way.
The world narrowed to the sound of rain against glass and the slow, mechanical tick of the clock on the far wall. Ariel's wrists burned where the zip ties cut into her skin, the plastic biting deeper every time she shifted in the chair. The warehouse room was too clean to be abandoned—concrete floor, a long steel table, and a single hanging light that turned Arlo into a cutout of shadow and bone.
He sat opposite her, forearms resting on his knees, head tilted like he was studying a painting. Behind him, the glass wall showed the blur of the city's distant lights, smeared by the rain.
"Comfortable?" he asked, voice low, almost gentle.
Ariel's laugh came out raw. "You murdered my best friend in front of me. Tied me to a chair. You tell me."
He smiled, that same slow, amused curve that used to make her stomach flutter. Now it made her want to spit in his face.
"Context, Ariel," Arlo murmured. "You keep forgetting context."
He rose, the chair scraping softly as he stood, and walked to a small bar cart tucked into the corner. He poured himself a drink, dark liquid catching the light. He didn't offer her any. He turned back, glass in hand.
"Do you know what they call me?" he asked.
"I know what I call you," she shot back. "Monster. Liar. Murderer. Take your pick."
His eyes flickered, but his smile didn't falter. "They call me the Halo King. Head of Obsidian Halo." He let the name linger in the air. "Neat, isn't it? Sounds almost holy."
Ariel's breath hitched, but she refused to let the fear show. "Congratulations," she said coldly. "You came up with a pretty name for organized hell."
He stepped closer, the soles of his shoes whispering against the floor. "Obsidian Halo existed long before you, long before that little bookshop of yours. Trade, information, protection, leverage… It's an ecosystem." He crouched down in front of her, bringing his eyes level with hers. "Harry was very good at navigating it."
Her heart clenched at the name. "Don't," she whispered. "You don't get to say his name."
"Why not?" Arlo's gaze was steady, unblinking. "He worked for me. For years. Ran routes, made deals, collected debts. Talented, ambitious. Obsidian Halo rewarded him for that." He paused. "Berry too."
Ariel jerked against the restraints, the chair scraping. "You're lying."
He tilted his head. "You think Harry was flying to Italy for a corporate conference?" He let out a soft laugh. "He was going to close a shipment line we'd been building quietly for months. And Berry… your sweet, anxious bride-to-be? She was the one cleaning the money. Hiding it. Keeping the books tidy so no one would ever trace it back to us."
Ariel shook her head so hard it made the room sway. "No. Berry worked at a design firm. She hated numbers."
"She hated being powerless," Arlo corrected. "Harry offered her a seat closer to the fire. She took it." He leaned back just enough that the harsh light caught the scar at his jawline she'd never noticed before. "People are rarely what you think they are, Ariel. You should know that by now."
Her eyes burned. "Even if that were true—and it's not—you still killed them. You called her. You threatened her. You—"
"Ah." He lifted a finger. "Now we're getting to the interesting parts."
He rose again, pacing a slow line in front of her, drink dangling loosely from his fingers.
"Do you know what happens," he asked quietly, "when someone decides the king's crown would look better on their head?"
Ariel glared at him. "The king murders everyone and then gives speeches about 'context'?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Harry wanted more than what he had. More power. More territory. He thought Obsidian Halo should be his. He invited me to a celebration. Said it was for closing that Italy route." Arlo's jaw tightened, the only crack in his composure. "He poured the drinks. Laughed at the right moments. Waited until my back was turned."
Ariel swallowed, fighting the tremor in her chest. "You expect me to feel sorry for you?"
"I expect you to listen," Arlo said sharply.
The word knifed through the air, and for a moment, the charming mask slipped. A colder thing stared out at her.
"He moved behind me," Arlo went on, voice smoother again but clipped at the edges. "Knife in hand. You would've been proud of him—he was almost silent. Almost." He paused, the memory darkening his eyes. "Chris saw him."
The name meant nothing to her, but the way he said it made her stomach twist.
"Chris is family," Arlo said. "Not by blood, but something sharper. He's been at my side since Obsidian Halo was a rumor. He stepped between us. Didn't think. Just moved." He looked down at his hand as if he could still see the blood there. "The knife went into him instead of me. Deep. You never forget the sound someone makes when steel hits bone."
Ariel pressed her lips together, refusing to let sympathy creep in. "You shot Harry," she said flatly.
"Of course I shot Harry." Arlo met her gaze again, unapologetic. "Betrayal has consequences. In my world, they're permanent."
"And Berry?" Ariel's voice cracked on the name. "What was her consequence? Loving the wrong man?"
His smile faded. Just a fraction. "At first," he said slowly, "I thought she was collateral. A noncombatant. I had no intention of touching her."
"You phoned her," Ariel hissed. "You terrified her. She left me in a mall with melting ice cream because of you."
"I warned her," Arlo corrected, almost bored. "Told her Harry wouldn't be coming back. That she'd be next if she forgot who she was dealing with. Standard procedure when tying up loose ends." His eyes hardened. "Then I found out she wasn't a loose end. She was part of the knot."
Ariel stared at him, pulse roaring in her ears. "Stop talking about her like she's paperwork," she whispered. "She was my best friend."
"And my accountant," Arlo said calmly. "My strategist in the shadows. She moved money from my accounts into Harry's. She contacted my people, tried to pull them away from me. She planned your future on my corpse."
A tear slipped down Ariel's cheek before she could stop it. "You're twisting this. You always twist everything. You destroyed her."
He moved closer again until he was just a breath away, the scent of expensive cologne and whiskey wrapping around her like something poisonous.
"I destroyed a traitor," he said softly. "What you saw… that was mercy running out."
The image slammed back into her—the screaming tires, metal folding in on itself, Berry's eyes wide and wild behind the windshield, Ariels own throat hoarse from the gag as she fought the rope holding her back. Arlo, standing a little distance away, watching it all with that unreadable expression.
"You made me watch," Ariel choked. "You made me watch her die."
"Yes," Arlo said simply. "Lessons stay longer when they hurt."
She recoiled from him, the chair scraping. "You're proud of that?"
"No." He tilted his head, considering. "Satisfied."
She stared at him like she had never seen him before, like the man in her kitchen with cocoa and poetry had been a cruel joke played by this stranger.
"All those nights you listened to me talk about my parents," she whispered. "About the car crash. About the flower. And you still thought… that was a good way to teach me something?"
His gaze flickered, just once, at the mention of the old crash, but whatever passed through his eyes was gone too quickly to catch.
"You're still alive," he said. "You've survived worse than you think. That's what I've always liked about you, Ariel. You bend, but you don't break."
"I hate you," she breathed.
He leaned in, so close she could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar near his eye. "You think hate makes you safer than love?" he asked quietly. "Hate ties you to me just as tightly. Maybe tighter."
She lifted her chin, eyes bright with fury. "I would rather burn with hate for you than ever feel anything soft again."
Something in his expression shifted—something like irritation, something like appreciation.
"Good," he murmured. "Soft things get crushed in my world."
He straightened, finishing his drink in one slow swallow, then set the glass down with a soft click on the metal table.
"We're not done," he said. "Not by a long shot. There are still things you don't know. Things about Harry. About Berry. About why Obsidian Halo is still standing and they are not." He started toward the door, his back a black silhouette against the light. "But you're not ready to hear them."
"Try me," she snapped. "You've taken everything else. What's left to protect?"
He paused with his hand on the door, not turning around.
"Some truths," Arlo said calmly, "only make sense when you're further from the blast radius." He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. "For now, hold on to your hate. Aim it all at me, if that helps you sleep."
The lock clacked as he opened the door. Cold air rushed in from the hallway.
"One question," Ariel called out, voice hoarse. "If they were so terrible… if they betrayed you… why do you keep talking about them like they matter?"
He stopped again, just for a breath. When he spoke, his voice was quieter.
"Because they did," he said. "And that's the problem, isn't it?"
The door shut behind him with a soft, final click, leaving Ariel alone with the echo of his words, the rain, and a hate so sharp it made it hard to breathe.