Morning arrived with a quiet, persistent light that felt almost too bright for the weight behind Freddie's eyes. He woke slowly, the silence of the apartment a sharp contrast to the ringing chaos of the night before. For a long moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting his systems—both physical and mental—slowly click into place.
He didn't want to think about the night. He didn't want to dissect the scar, the blood, or the way the world felt like it was fraying at the edges. He just wanted to move.
Freddie sat up, a long, deep stretch pulling at his stiff muscles. Today was a college day, and the routine felt like a lifeline. He'd take the train, sit through his lectures, and play the part of the student. Later, he could retreat into his remote work, losing himself in lines of code that actually followed the rules.
He made his way downstairs, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He expected to find Riven on the couch, or perhaps lingering near the kitchen, but the living room was empty. The blankets on the sofa were folded with a surprising, military-like neatness, but the wolf was gone.
"Riven?"
No answer. He checked the kitchen and the hallway, but there was no sign of him. Riven wasn't the type to hide, so Freddie assumed he'd simply slipped out into the gray morning air.
Then, he saw it.
Near the printer, on a fresh sheet of paper from the stack Freddie kept there, a note was pinned to the wooden surface with a single thumbtack from the cup on the desk. The handwriting was aggressive and slanted, written with a heavy hand that says:
————
I'm heading out. Don't be late for the train. If things get weird before I see you at the building, call me. I'll find you when the time is right. —Riven
P.S. Try to stay awake in lecture, bub.
[Riven's Phone #]
————
Freddie stared at the "bub" for a second, a small, tired huff of a laugh escaping him. It was a classic Riven touch—shorthand for a friendship he'd never admit to in person.
He picked up his phone, punching the number into his contacts and saving it under a simple Riven. With the note tucked into his pocket, he began his own morning routine. He washed his face, carefully avoiding the bandage over his brow, and pulled on his jacket.
He had a train to catch, and for at least a few hours, he was going to pretend the world was exactly what it appeared to be.
As he arrived, The campus was already in full swing when Freddie stepped off the train and made his way toward the main gates. The morning air was crisp, but it did little to cool the heat still radiating from the ridge above his eye. He stopped by a glass window near the entrance, checking his reflection. The adhesive of the bandage was already peeling at the corners, and with a sharp, steady breath, he ripped it off.
The scar sat there, jagged and stark against his eyebrow. It wasn't just a mark of damage; it looked like it was part of his anatomy now—bold, dark, and permanent. He didn't look like the same quiet bear who had wandered these halls just almost a month ago. He looked like someone who had survived something the rest of these students couldn't even imagine.
As he entered the building, the usual hallway chatter took on a different tone. He kept his head up, walking with a steady, unhurried pace.
"Is that him?"
A voice whispered from a locker alcove.
"Look at his eye, he looks like a total badass not gonna lie."
Another murmured, the tone caught between curiosity and a strange kind of admiration.
He caught fragments of their observations—the word "badass" floated through the air, balanced by more than a few lingering, wide-eyed stares. To them, the scar gave him a new, sharper edge; he was still the same soft-furred bear, but there was an undeniable weight to him now that made him stand out in a way he never had before.
He was halfway down the hall when the library doors swung open. Kasey and Catherine walked out together, deep in a conversation that looked hurried and anxious. They stopped dead in their tracks the moment they spotted him.
"Freddie?"
Kasey breathed, his voice barely audible over the crowd.
They stood frozen for a beat, eyes wide and expressions mirroring a mix of disbelief and sheer relief. To them, he hadn't just been away—he had been missing in the middle of a storm. And seeing him standing there, marked by battle but very much alive, was a shock they hadn't prepared for.
Catherine was the first to move, her amber eyes locking onto the scar.
"You're back,"
Her voice uncharacteristically soft.
"We thought... we weren't sure what to think."
Kasey steps forward, eyes on Freddie.
"We should go to a private area and discuss about… 'this.'"
"Right."
She lets go.
They led Freddie into a secluded corner of the student lounge, tucked behind a row of vending machines where the steady hum of the cooling units drowned out the distant chatter of the morning. Kasey dragged a heavy chair across the floor, positioning it so Freddie was boxed in, while Catherine sat directly across from him. It was an interrogation in everything but name.
"Start talking,"
His dragon wings were pulled tight against his back, vibrating slightly—a sign he was deeply rattled.
"We've been living in a nightmare for weeks."
Catherine didn't wait for him to respond. She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she tapped the screen.
"We saw you. You were on the news the day it happened."
She turned the screen toward him. The footage was brief and eerily still, captured by a fixed security feed. It focused on the aftermath in the plaza. There was Freddie, a yellow-furred bear lying perfectly still on the gray stone. The camera lingered on him, capturing the dark, terrifying pool of red spreading out from his side. The headline scrolling across the bottom was clinical: Unidentified Student Found Unconscious in Plaza District; Medical Status Unknown.
"The report said they found you like that, but then there were no updates,"
Catherine whispered, her eyes searching his.
"We thought you were dead, or in a deep coma in some ward we couldn't find. We didn't even have your number to check on you. We've spent nearly three weeks calling every hospital in the city asking for 'the yellow bear from the news.' Three weeks of nothing."
Freddie stared at the screen, his stomach turning. To the rest of the world, this was just an unexplained medical emergency. They didn't know about the reality-bending glitches or the Night Reign. Seeing himself like that—broken and motionless—felt like looking at a stranger. He could still feel the phantom cold of the shadow that had stitched him back together, but he knew he couldn't say a word about it. They wouldn't believe him, and he didn't want to drag them into the danger.
"I... I was lucky,"
Freddie started, his voice a bit too high, a bit too fast. He looked down at his paws, avoiding their gaze.
"It looked worse than it was. A medical team found me right after that clip ended. They took me to a private facility because the main hospitals were full. That's why you couldn't find me. They had me under heavy sedation because of the internal injuries... I only just got discharged."
He reached up to touch the jagged scar on his brow, trying to sound casual.
"This is just from hitting the pavement. It looks deep, but the doctors said it would heal fine."
As the words left his mouth, the silence in the corner shifted. Kasey's eyes narrowed as he watched the way Freddie's ears twitched and how he wouldn't maintain eye contact. Catherine didn't move her hand toward his like she usually would; she just kept watching him, her expression hardening from worry into sharp suspicion.
"A private facility? For nearly three weeks? And you didn't think to contact the school or anyone once you woke up?"
Catherine sighed, a sharp, hurt sound.
"Freddie, you're a terrible liar. Your voice is shaking, and you haven't looked at us once since you started talking."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper.
"Look at that footage again. You were dying. You've been missing for nearly a month, and now you walk in here with a scar that looks ancient and a story that doesn't hold water. What really happened to you?"
Freddie felt the walls of the small corner closing in. The steady hum of the vending machines seemed to grow louder, matching the frantic rhythm of his heart. He looked at the screen of Catherine's phone one more time—at the footage of himself lying in a pool of blood—and then back at his friends.
He was in a sticky situation. His ears flattened against his head, and a small, involuntary tremor ran through his shoulders. He shook his head slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. He wanted to surrender to the pressure, but he wasn't ready to tell them the truth about the shadows or Riven.
"I..."
He started, but his voice cracked. He held up his paws in a weary gesture of surrender, though his posture remained guarded.
"Okay. You're right. I'm not... I'm not telling you everything."
He took a shaky breath, trying to salvage the lie while acknowledging he'd been caught.
"I was in the hospital. That's the truth. I've been there for the last three weeks."
"The hospital?"
Kasey repeated, his wings twitching with a mix of frustration and confusion.
"Freddie, we looked. We called everywhere. How could you be in a hospital for three weeks and no one knew? No records, no names, nothing."
"I don't know what else to say, it's the truth."
Freddie insisted, his voice hitching as he tried to make the lie sound plausible.
"Look… I was just a patient in a bed. I didn't even know how long it had been until I woke up properly. And if you somehow didn't find me, that's just your end."
Catherine didn't look convinced. Her eyes scanning the jagged, dark scar on his face—a mark that looked far too settled for a three-week-old injury. She watched the way he fidgeted with his sleeves and how he refused to look either of them in the eye.
"Freddie, stop,"
Catherine said softly, though her voice had a sharp edge of hurt.
"I know that it hasn't been long since we're known you. But you're shaking, you're stuttering, and you're staring at the floor. You're lying to us right now, and we both know it."
The silence that followed was heavy. Freddie sat there, trapped between his desire to keep them safe from the truth and the crushing weight of their suspicion. He had admitted he was lying, but the real story remained locked away.
Kasey stood up, his shadow stretching over Freddie as he closed the distance between them. He didn't say a word at first, his expression grim and heavy with a worry that had clearly been festering for the last three weeks. He stopped right in front of Freddie and placed both of his hands firmly on the bear's shoulders, his grip tight enough to feel the weight of his desperation.
He stares Freddie down deeply, like death is watching. His eyes searching for any flicker of the friend he used to know behind that new, jagged scar.
"Just... tell us... please..."
Kasey pleaded, his voice cracking with a raw honesty that hit Freddie harder than any interrogation tactic could.
"We just want the truth. No more stories."
Even though Freddie was starting to stress out, he felt the warmth of Kasey's hands and the intense, focused gaze of Catherine from across the table. He felt small, cornered by the very people who cared about him the most. He looked up at Kasey, his ears drooping, the weight of the secret feeling like lead in his chest.
"You wouldn't believe me at all even if I do."
The admission hung in the air, cold and sharp. It was the first honest thing he'd said since they sat down, and it only made the tension in the room thicker. Kasey didn't pull away; if anything, his grip tightened slightly, his brow furrowing as he tried to process what that could possibly mean.
"We're already past 'believable.' We just need to know what you're dealing with. Do you have any personal adversaries?"
Freddie looked from Kasey to Catherine, his mouth dry. He could feel the shadow at the edge of his vision—the power that shouldn't exist, the memory of Riven in his apartment, and the impossible way his body had put itself back together. He was on the verge of breaking, the pressure of the lie finally reaching its limit.
Then—
"Listen, I'm being dead serious. The hospital part is true,"
Freddie continued, his voice barely a murmur under the weight of Kasey's hands.
"And me being knocked down was... was..."
He trailed off, his gaze darting toward the dark corners of the lounge. He knew he was standing on the edge of a cliff. If he stepped off, there was no going back to the way things were before. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady his heart.
"—Well, I've been noticing weird things about the city,"
Kasey didn't move an inch, his eyes locked on Freddie's.
"What do you mean? What kind of weird things?"
Freddie's voice dropping to a whisper.
"Have you ever stayed up past midnight? Not just up watching a movie—but really stayed up. Have you felt the air change; seen the way the night changes?"
Catherine shook her head slowly, her face pale.
"Nobody stays up that late if they can help it. It's... it's not safe, or it's just exhausting. The city feels different at night, sure, but it's just the dark."
She sighed, she knew this isn't going anywhere, let alone all of this sounds ridiculous.
"Is this what the hospital told you? That you're seeing things because of the trauma? They call it 'sensory distortion' sometimes after a head injury."
Freddie let out a hollow, bitter laugh. He realized he was trying to explain the ocean to people who had only ever seen a cup of water. Freddie had great patience, though he felt it thinning the more he tried to elaborate. To them, "glitches" were technical errors and "midnight" was just a clock turning over. They hadn't seen the sky tear open. They hadn't felt their own blood turn to shadow and back again—in their perspective, reality was simple. Everything was normal.
"I told you that you wouldn't believe me. You think I'm broken. You think my brain is just misfiring."
He looked at the exit of their small "interrogation" room, feeling more alone than he had when he was actually dying in the plaza.
Catherine glanced down at her watch, the numbers blinking back at her. The heavy atmosphere of their interrogation was suddenly punctured by the reality of the school bell.
"We have to go, class starts in two minutes."
The tension didn't dissipate; it just shifted. Kasey slowly retracted his hands from Freddie's shoulders, his expression still clouded with that grim, searching look. He wanted to stay, to push until the "real" Freddie came back, but the routine of the university was pulling them away.
"We'll talk more later, okay? Don't... just don't disappear again."
They gathered their bags in silence. As they stepped out from behind the vending machines, the path split. Katherine and Kasey headed toward the science wing, both of them pausing for a split second to look back at Freddie. Their faces were etched with a "feeling bad" expression—a mix of pity, confusion, and the lingering fear that their friend was fundamentally broken. They watched him for a moment longer before disappearing into the crowd of students.
Freddie didn't wait for them to fully vanish. He turned and walked the other way, his footsteps feeling heavier than usual. He felt the isolation of his secret like a physical weight, a barrier between him and the life he used to lead.
He made it to his lecture hall just as the last few students were trickling in. He spotted a familiar face near the middle row: Angelo.
As Freddie approached the desk, Angelo looked up. His eyes widened slightly behind his glasses—a brief flash of genuine surprise. He hadn't seen Freddie in weeks, and while he wasn't the type to hover or panic like Catherine and Kasey, a visible wave of relief washed over his face. He leaned back, giving Freddie a small, acknowledging nod.
"You're back,"
His tone casual but his eyes lingering on the new scar for a fraction of a second.
"Good to see you, man. I was starting to think you'd finally decided to drop out and move to the coast."
Freddie didn't offer a smile, but he felt a tiny bit of the pressure lift just by being around someone who wasn't currently interrogating him. He pulled out the chair and sat down next to him, the wooden seat creaking under his weight.
Angelo noticed the way Freddie moved—shoulders hunched, eyes darting toward the shadows in the corners of the lecture hall. He could practically feel the wall Freddie had built up around himself since walking in. Instead of pressing for answers or making a scene, Angelo just shifted his notebook to make more room on the shared desk.
"Professor Miller is still obsessed with the mid-term projects, so you didn't miss much, just a lot of syllabus talk and him complaining about the fountain being shut down for 'maintenance.' It's been a total snooze-fest."
Freddie stared at the blank page of his notebook, his pen hovering over the paper. He appreciated the lack of questions. Angelo wasn't looking at him like he was a ghost or a puzzle to be solved; he was treating him like he'd just been out with a bad flu.
"Thanks, I... I'll catch up."
"Don't sweat it, I've got the notes from the last two weeks. They're mostly doodles of me trying to figure out how a dragon can fit into a standard lecture chair, but the important stuff is in there. I'll send them over after class."
He finally stole a quick glance at Freddie, noticing the way Freddie's hand was still shaking slightly as he held his pen. Angelo didn't comment on it.
"Sitting next to an empty chair makes me look like I have no friends, and my reputation is already on thin ice."
Freddie felt a tiny, genuine spark of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It was the first time in weeks that things felt even remotely normal. But as the professor started the lecture and the lights dimmed for a slideshow, the shadows on the wall seemed to stretch just a little too far, and Freddie's heart began to sync with the low hum of the projector.
Freddie did his best to lock his eyes on the whiteboard, forcing his breath to slow down. It's just the light, he told himself. Just a trick of the eyes. But his knuckles were white as he gripped his pen, and the subtle tremor in his frame didn't go unnoticed.
Angelo didn't look up from his own notes, but he leaned in slightly, his voice a barely audible ghost of a whisper.
"Hey. Breathe. We're talking after this, okay? Just you and me."
The rest of the hour was a blur of academic jargon and the scratch of pens on paper. For everyone else, it was a standard Tuesday morning. For Freddie, every minute felt like an hour spent walking a tightrope. When the professor finally dismissed them, Freddie moved to gather his things quickly, his mind already halfway out the door. He just wanted to find a quiet place to hide.
He didn't get far.
As Freddie stepped into the hallway, he moved faster than he expected. Angelo cut him off, shifting his weight with surprising agility and planting a hand firmly against the wall next to Freddie's head, effectively pinning him in place.
The casual, relaxed persona Angelo had maintained during the lecture was gone. His eyes were sharp, searching Freddie's face with a level of intensity that made the yellow bear's heart skip a beat.
"Alright, you're freaked out. No more acting. Did someone try assassinating you? I saw the news. That wasn't an 'accident.' That was a hit."
Freddie felt the cold brick of the wall against his back. He looked at Angelo, seeing a completely different kind of pressure than the one Catherine and Kasey had applied. They were worried about his health; Angelo was worried about a threat.
"I... it wasn't an assassination,"
Freddie stammered, his eyes darting to the side.
"Don't give me that,"
Angelo hissed.
"You were lying in a pool of blood on national television, and now you show up three weeks later looking like you've seen the end of the world. If someone is after you, you need to say it."
Freddie's heart hammered against his ribs, the air in the hallway suddenly feeling twice as thin. Angelo's hand was still pinned against the wall, his sharp gaze locked onto Freddie's, waiting for an answer that Freddie didn't have the courage to give.
"What are you doing around him, coyote boy?"
The voice was like a low growl of thunder, vibrating through the crowded corridor. It was gruff, deep, and carried a weight that made several nearby students instinctively step aside.
Riven was standing a few feet away, his towering frame casting a long shadow that seemed to swallow the light around him. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes—cold and piercing—were fixed directly on Angelo's hand. He didn't look like a student; he looked like a predator marking his territory.
Angelo didn't flinch, but he slowly pulled his hand back from the wall, turning his head to face the newcomer. The tension between the two was immediate and sharp. Angelo looked Riven up and down, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he sized up the wolf.
"Just checking in on a friend,"
Angelo replied, his voice regaining its casual, steady edge, though his posture remained guarded.
"Who are you? His bodyguard?"
Riven didn't answer. He stepped closer, the space between him and Angelo shrinking until the height difference was imposing. He looked down at Freddie, his expression unreadable to anyone else, but Freddie could see the flicker of warning in those dark eyes. Riven wasn't just there to say hello; he was there because Freddie was talking too much.
"He's coming with me,"
Riven's voice leaving no room for argument.
Freddie looked between the two of them, feeling trapped in the middle of a brewing storm. Angelo looked like he wanted to stand his ground, but Riven's presence was suffocating, radiating a danger that went far beyond a simple schoolyard scrap.
Angelo's eyes darted between Freddie's wide-eyed, frantic expression and Riven's cold, immovable stare. He didn't miss the way Freddie instinctively shrunk back—not in fear, exactly, but with a strange kind of submission he had never shown anyone else.
Angelo stood his ground, his gaze sharpening behind his glasses. He didn't look intimidated; he looked suspicious.
"He's coming with you?"
Angelo repeated, his voice dropping an octave.
"I've known Freddie for years. I've never seen you in my life. And judging by the way he's looking at you right now, he isn't exactly thrilled to see his 'ride' home."
"That's a damn lie, you don't know shit about him." Riven scoffs, knowing it was in fact a lie.
He stepped slightly to the side, blocking Riven's direct path to Freddie.
"How do you two even know each other? Because Freddie has been in a hospital for two-to-three weeks. And now you show up acting like you own him."
Riven was starting to lose his patience, he didn't like being questioned, especially by someone who smelled of nothing but ink and paper. He took another step forward, his shadow looming over both of them, his presence radiating a silent, dangerous pressure.
"It's none of your business,"
Riven growled, his voice vibrating with a threat that made the students at the nearby lockers go quiet.
Freddie felt the air between them thick with a tension that felt like it might snap and shatter the windows. He knew Angelo wouldn't let this go—Angelo was too smart for his own good—but Riven wasn't the kind of person you argued with in a public school hallway.
"Angelo, it's... it's fine,"
Freddie stammered, reaching out to catch Angelo's arm to pull him back before things turned violent.
"I know him. He's... he's the one who helped me."
Angelo turned his head sharply toward Freddie.
"Helped you? This guy? He looks like he's about to tear the door off the hinges."
Riven's patience was visibly paper-thin, his jaw set in a hard line as he stared down the coyote. Angelo, being a coyote, had a natural, sharp alertness; his ears were swivelled forward, and his gaze was calculating as he refused to back down from the much larger wolf. The air between them was a powder keg, ready to ignite right there in the middle of the hall.
But before the tension could snap into something physical, a heavy oak door nearby swung open.
"Is there a problem out here?"
Professor Vance stepped into the hallway, his spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose as he peered over a stack of papers. The sudden presence of authority acted like a cold bucket of water on the situation. Riven didn't flinch, but he shifted his weight, his eyes darting toward the professor. He knew he couldn't cause a scene—not if he wanted to keep Freddie, and himself, under the radar.
"No problem, Professor. Just catching up with an old friend. And meeting a... new one."
Vance adjusted his glasses, his eyes lingering on Riven's scarred, rough appearance.
"The hallway is for transit, not for loitering or intimidating your peers. If you aren't heading to a lecture, move along."
Riven let out a breath that was almost a growl, but he leaned back, breaking the physical pressure he'd been putting on Angelo. He looked at Freddie, a silent command in his eyes. Come. Now.
"I have to go, Angelo."
Freddie whispered, his voice small. He moved toward Riven, his heart sinking as he saw the look of deep, unresolved suspicion in Angelo's eyes.
"I'll see you later then."
It wasn't a goodbye; it was a promise that he wasn't done digging.
Riven didn't wait for another word. He turned on his heel and strode down the hall, his presence clearing a path through the students like a blade. Freddie followed behind him, his head low, feeling the coyote's sharp eyes burning into his back until they rounded the corner and exited the building.
Once they reached the quiet of the campus courtyard, Riven finally stopped. He turned to Freddie, his face like stone.
"You're making a mess, Freddie,"
Riven growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"First your other friends, now that coyote? You're going to get yourself—or them—killed if you don't keep your mouth shut."
Freddie's shoulders slumped, the bear's hand clutching his own arm as if trying to hold himself together. The sight of the guilt in Freddie's eyes—the raw, honest pain of a person caught between a life he loved and a nightmare he couldn't escape—made the wolf's irritation soften.
Riven took a slow breath, the aggressive tension leaving his frame. He wasn't just a guard; he was the only one who truly knew what Freddie had endured in the plaza.
"Look,"
He stepped closer, but this time his presence wasn't meant to intimidate.
"I know it's hard. I know you want to go back to the way things were. But your 'friend'... the coyote... he's looking for a version of you that died weeks ago."
Freddie didn't look up, but his grip on his arm tightened. A single, shaky breath escaped him.
Riven reached out, hesitantly placing a heavy hand on Freddie's shoulder. It wasn't a grip this time; it was a grounding weight.
"I'm not trying to take your life away from you. I'm trying to make sure you keep the one you have left. If you tell them the truth, you put a target on their backs. Do you want Angelo looking into the same shadows that did that to you?"
He gestured toward the scar on Freddie's brow. Freddie finally looked up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The logic hit him hard—the idea of Angelo or Katherine getting hurt because of his "glitches" was worse than them thinking he was crazy.
"No, I don't want them involved."
Riven's expression showing a flicker of genuine sympathy.
"Then you have to be careful, I wanted to find you quick because I saw a car following you this morning. A black sedan that didn't belong. You aren't just 'the kid from the news' to everyone."
He pauses for a brief moment to let Freddie process the information. Then, he adds on.
"I forgot to mention that I saw the news weeks ago; everyone has been recently talking about it after you showed up from school. Ugh, I hate hearing damn rumors. Be aware that some people, you're a miracle they want to take apart and study."
He gently nudged Freddie toward the edge of the campus.
"Come on. Let's get go. We can find a way for you to talk to them eventually, but today isn't the day."
The hallway was beginning to empty as the last few stragglers headed for their next lecture, but Angelo remained rooted to the spot. He stood in the shadow of the doorway, his coyote ears still swiveling, having picked up the low, vibrating frequency of Riven's voice.
His sharp mind raced, replaying the fragments he'd caught: Bleeding information. The version of you that died. Shadows.
"Shadows?"
Angelo whispered to himself, his tail twitching with a mix of anxiety and a hunter's curiosity.
"What the hell is he talking about?"
He watched through the glass of the heavy exit doors as the massive wolf ushered Freddie away. The way the light seemed to dampen around Riven—and the way Freddie looked so fragile beside him—made Angelo's stomach churn. This wasn't just some hospital recovery. This was something deep, something that felt like it belonged in a restricted section of the library rather than a student lounge.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Kasey's contact name. He hesitated for a second, looking back at the empty hallway where Freddie had just been pinned against the wall. He knew Freddie was trying to protect them, but he also knew that Freddie was in over his head.
"I probably should tell Kasey, whatever that wolf is doing—is clearly hiding something."
As he began to type out a message, the sun outside momentarily dipped behind a thick, unnatural-looking cloud, casting the campus into a sudden, eerie twilight. For a split second, Angelo thought he saw the shadow of the school building flicker—like a frame of film skipping a beat. He blinked, and it was gone, but the chill remained.
As Angelo turned away, he saw it—the black sedan Riven mentioned pull slowly away from the curb, trailing the two figures at a distance, as he hits send on the text to Kasey.