CHAPTER SIX — THE COLLAPSE
The city had always been loud, reckless, alive. But that night, it breathed like a wounded animal—shallow, uneven, ready to bite anyone who dared get close.
And Riven was right in the center of it.
The news hit me like a punch: Riven Cortez—missing, framed, hunted by his own family.
The Cortez syndicate didn’t make mistakes. If they wanted someone gone, that person didn’t survive the night.
But Riven… he wasn’t just someone.
He was the man who’d dragged me out of fire—twice. The man whose voice could cut through the darkest panic inside me. The man who kissed me once in the back of a car then spent three days pretending it didn’t mean anything.
And now he was alone. Cornered. Marked.
Because of me.
Because he’d chosen to protect me instead of himself.
I shouldn’t have gone looking for him. I knew that. Riven would’ve told me to run far, far away.
But he wasn’t here to stop me.
So I followed the only trail I had—the one that smelled like gasoline, rust, and smoke. The one that led straight to the city outskirts, where a warehouse skeleton sat crumbling against the moon.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I stepped through the torn metal frame of the door.
“Riven!”
My voice disappeared into the cavernous dark. No answer.
I pushed deeper.
The warehouse looked like it had been bombed: shattered beams, scorch marks, half-collapsed pillars holding on by threads. Water dripped somewhere, echoing like a slow clock.
Then—I heard it.
A cough.
Low. Ragged. Familiar.
“Riven?”
Something shifted near a broken stack of crates.
And there he was.
Half-kneeling. Half-bleeding. His shirt torn open, smeared with ash. One eye bruised shut. His hands tied with steel wire, cutting into his skin.
But he still looked at me as if I was the one who’d been ripped apart.
“Why are you here?” he rasped.
I rushed toward him. “Because they’re hunting you!”
He flinched when I touched his face. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
“Riven—”
“They’ll kill you for being near me.”
“Let them try.”
His eyes widened, actually widened, like he’d never expected anyone to choose him in a moment like this.
“Little dove,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I told you to stay away.”
“And I told you,” I shot back, “that you don’t get to vanish on me.”
His head lowered.
Not in shame.
In surrender.
But surrender wasn’t what he needed. Action was.
So I took a breath. Reached into my pocket. Pulled out the thin metal tools he’d once insisted I carry “just in case.”
He’d taught me how to slip wires. How to break a trap. How to listen, not with ears, but instinct.
And now, for the first time, I was using his lessons on him.
I knelt behind him and set the tip of the picklock against the twisted wire.
Riven went still. “You’ll cut yourself.”
“Then you’ll patch me up,” I said. “That’s how this works, right?”
He didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. Not with the pain he was in.
But the corner of his mouth twitched.
It only took ten seconds. His breath hitched when the final strand snapped loose, and the wires clattered to the floor.
He exhaled, shaky. “You shouldn’t know how to do that.”
“You taught me,” I said. “Remember?”
The air thickened.
I pulled him up slowly, letting him lean against me. He didn’t resist, though he should’ve. Riven didn’t lean on anyone.
Except now—he was leaning on me like the weight of his world had finally become too much.
“We have to go,” I said. “Your family—”
“Already here.”
The words were barely audible. And yes—when I listened, really listened—I heard the low growl of engines outside.
Riven’s hand found mine. “There’s no way out. Not for me.”
I shook my head violently. “No. No, I won’t accept that.”
“You have to leave me.”
“I won’t.”
“You must.”
“I said I won’t!”