Jace had never seen River freeze like that.

He'd watched him disarm a stranger with terrifying speed. He'd seen him move through rooms like a shadow, calculating, alert, composed. But this was different.

River's shoulders were tense. His jaw was locked. And his eyes... there was something in them Jace hadn't seen before.

Fear.

"What did the voice say?" Jace asked, quieter this time.

River didn't speak for a long moment. Then he slid his phone across the table. "They mentioned my unit. No one should know about them. No one."

Jace picked up the phone but found no trace of the number. "Blocked."

River nodded once. "They said I'm protecting the wrong man. That if I don't walk away... I'll end up like the others."

Jace blinked. "The others?"

River leaned against the wall, dragging a hand through his hair. "There were five of us. My squad. Overseas. We were sent into a mission that wasn't cleared. We were told it was surveillance, but it wasn't. Two of them died that night, one lost a leg. The fifth disappeared last year."

"And you?"

"I survived, barely. Got a dishonorable discharge to keep me quiet."

Jace took a slow breath, mind already racing. "You think this threat is from the same people?"

"I think this isn't just about you anymore," River said darkly. "It's about both of us."

Silence settled between them.

Jace walked to the window, looking down at the skyline. Everything felt too exposed now. He'd always known someone was watching. He just hadn't expected them to dig through River's life to do it.

"We have to find out who made that call," Jace said.

"We can't trace it," River replied. "They're good."

"Everyone leaves a trail."

River crossed his arms. "And what if they're baiting us?"

Jace turned, brows drawn. "Then we take the bait on our terms."

River watched him. "You really want to do this?"

Jace turned. "They've already made it personal. I'm not walking away."

River's voice dropped lower. "Then you need to be ready. Because this isn't about money anymore. It's not even about the company. It's war."

They didn't speak much after that.

Sasha called again that evening. The interview was confirmed for tomorrow. Friendly media outlet and safe environment.

"Remember," she said over speakerphone. "Keep it simple. Light touches, little smiles. The story matters more than the details. Make people believe you're in love."

"Any tips for pretending we're a happy couple?" River asked dryly.

"You mean besides not looking like you'd rather stab each other?" Sasha teased.

Jace sighed. "We're not exactly the smiling type."

"Then brood romantically," she shot back. "Trust me, the audience eats that up."

Jace stared at the phone after the call ended.

Love. That word felt so foreign it made his chest ache.

*****************

River didn't go to bed right away. He sat on the balcony instead, staring out over the city. The wind ruffled his hair. The scar down his neck caught the light.

Jace joined him without a word, holding out a glass of whiskey.

River accepted it but didn't drink. "You don't strike me as the sharing type."

"I'm not."

River looked at him. "Then why are you out here?"

Jace hesitated. "Because I don't like silence. And I don't like being alone tonight."

River's eyes flicked to him. "You get lonely?"

Jace gave a soft, bitter smile. "More than you'd think."

River finally took a sip. "Lonely doesn't scare me. Never has."

"What scares you?"

River didn't answer for a long time.

Then he said quietly, "Trusting the wrong person."

Jace felt that one, deep in his chest. Because he understood it better than he wanted to.

"I trusted my father," Jace said suddenly. "Even when everyone told me not to. Even when I saw the signs. He died, and I still don't know if he was a good man or just better at hiding."

River was quiet.

"I never wanted to be like him," Jace said, voice low. "Cold, calculating and empty. But sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if I already am."

"You're not him," River said.

Jace's head turned. "How do you know?"

"Because you still care. Even when you don't want to."

That stopped him. The words hit something raw, something Jace hadn't admitted in years. He cared too much, always had. But caring meant losing control, and control was the only thing keeping him sane.

"You ever think about walking away from all of this?" River asked suddenly.

Jace blinked. "All the time."

"Why don't you?"

"Because if I disappear," Jace said, "he wins and everything I built dies with me."

River nodded once. "Then we don't disappear. We fight."

Jace looked over at him, eyes slightly softer. "You always talk like a soldier."

"I don't know how to stop."

Jace almost smiled. "Don't."

"Go to sleep," River said after a moment. "You'll need your energy tomorrow when we sell the world a perfect love story."

Jace nodded once, turning on his heels and walking away.

***********************

The next morning, the studio was locked down and silent.

Sasha met them at the entrance. She looked sharp, fast-talking, already in full control mode.

"You both look great. Jace, the softer suit is working. River, just keep doing that broody protector thing, it's gold."

"Broody protector?" River muttered under his breath. "I'm not a cliché."

"Yes, you are," Sasha said with a smirk. "A hot one."

Inside the studio, the lights were bright, cameras were set up. A gentle-faced interviewer waited, already briefed on what to ask and what to avoid.

River sat on the couch first. Jace joined him a moment later. The set looked like someone's cozy living room, fake plants, throw pillows, soft lighting.

"You ready?" River asked quietly.

Jace's jaw clenched. "Not even a little."

"Good," River said. "Means we won't sound rehearsed."

"Just follow the script," Sasha reminded through the earpiece. "But if it gets too real... lean in. The public eats that up."

The camera light turned red.

"We're here today with billionaire tech CEO Jace Maddox and his partner, River Hale," the interviewer began warmly. "This is the first time you're going public. Why now?"

Jace shifted slightly. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his knuckles turning white. River sat calm beside him, but his eyes kept scanning the room, alert, watching everything.

Jace inhaled slowly and leaned into the mic.

"Because," he began, his voice steady, "some things matter more than privacy. Some people are worth...."

His phone buzzed hard in his jacket pocket and he froze. Sasha's voice cut through the earpiece. "Jace....don't check it now. You're live."

But it was too late. He glanced at the screen and his blood ran cold.

An email alert. Subject line: "KnightFall_Recording.mp4."

And the message: "You should've stayed quiet, Jace. This is your final warning."

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. Next to him, River noticed the shift in his expression.

"What is it?" River murmured.

Jace didn't answer.

Instead, he slowly turned to the camera, stared dead into the lens, and said calmly,

"We're in danger." Jace said quietly.

The interviewer blinked. "I'm sorry... what?"

River sat up straighter, but Jace remained still.

Because just then, the file began downloading, and the first frame that appeared was a blurred image of his father's face, captured only hours before he died.

Silence filled the room. The interviewer blinked. The crew behind the cameras exchanged confused glances. Jace's words,we're in danger, hung in the air, too sharp, too real.

River didn't wait for an explanation.

He reached across Jace's body, pulling the mic wire from his collar and muttering, "We're done here."

Sasha's voice shrieked in the earpiece. "Do not walk out, this is live! You'll make headlines!"

River shot Jace a look. "Do you care about headlines or your life?"

Jace stood, unhooked his mic, and followed him.

The studio exploded the moment they left the set. Sasha came storming after them, heels clacking against the tile floor.

"Jace, what the hell was that?" she snapped. "You just told the entire world you're being threatened! That wasn't part of the plan..."

"Plans change," Jace said quietly, still holding his phone.

River snatched it from him and scrolled through the message again. His jaw tightened.

"Where's the file?" he asked.

"In my inbox. Still downloading."

Sasha stepped in front of them, blocking the hallway. "Look, if someone's threatening you, fine. But you can't just drop it on live TV. We're in the middle of controlling the narrative, and you just told the public you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Jace said, stepping around her. "I'm angry."

River followed him out to the car. They slid into the backseat, and before the door even closed, Jace opened the email.

The download was complete. He tapped the file.

It opened to grainy security footage. A hallway. A time-stamp from five years ago. The night his father died.

River leaned closer, watching.

Jace recognized the building, his father's private office. But the angles were odd. Almost like someone had planted the camera in secret.

Then suddenly noises could be heard. A soft argument behind the door.

Two voices. One was his father. The other....

Jace's blood turned cold. He knew that voice.

River looked at him. "Who is that?"

Jace didn't answer.

On-screen, the office door opened. A man stepped out, face blurred. The feed ended seconds later.

River grabbed Jace's wrist. "Who was that?"

Jace slowly looked up.

"Vincent Crane."

River blinked. "Crane? The board member?"

"My father's right hand. He's the one pushing to remove me."

River swore under his breath. "You're telling me the guy trying to steal your company was the last person seen with your father alive?"

Jace nodded slowly. "And this file was sent to me now. After five years, someone wants me to know. But not why."

River leaned back, his mind racing. "We need to talk to whoever sent it."

"There was no name. Just the message: You should've stayed quiet."

Sasha got into the front passenger seat, breathless. "I'm guessing damage control isn't your top priority anymore."

"No," Jace said. "Now we play offense."

They drove back in tense silence. Jace stared at his reflection in the window. His stomach twisted with something he couldn't quite name. Fear? Betrayal? Rage?

All he knew was that this wasn't a scandal anymore. It was personal and deadly and somehow, Vincent Crane was in the middle of it.

Back at the penthouse, Sasha started pacing.

"We need it legal. Discreet legal," she muttered. "We can't leak that file without verifying it."

Jace sat on the couch, elbows on his knees. "I want proof. Real proof."

River stood near the window, scanning the street below like he expected snipers. "We need to tighten security. Lock down your schedule and no unplanned stops."

Jace glanced up at him. "You staying close?"

River's voice was hard. "Closer than ever."

They didn't speak much after that.

Sasha left to call a contact at the NYPD who owed her a favor. Jace retreated to his office. River followed but didn't speak. He just leaned against the wall, watching. He was always watching.

It should've annoyed Jace.

It didn't.

Maybe because for the first time in years, someone was in the room with him and not asking for anything. No deals, no handshakes, no expectations. Just presence.

That night, Jace didn't go to his room.

He stood on the balcony in a hoodie and sweatpants, staring down at the glittering city below. It was quiet up here. Too quiet.

River joined him eventually, holding two mugs of tea.

"I figured whiskey's not the move tonight," he said.

Jace accepted the tea but didn't drink.

River leaned beside him, arms crossed. "You looked like you were going to pass out in that studio."

"I wasn't."

"You were pale. Breathing too fast."

Jace didn't respond.

River turned toward him. "You don't have to be a statue all the time."

Jace gave a bitter smile. "Statues don't break."

"No," River said. "But they crack and they fall and when they do, everyone watches."

Jace stared at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because I've seen people break from silence," River said, voice lower now. "And you remind me too much of who I used to be."

The air between them shifted.

Jace looked at him longer this time.

"You think I'm going to break?"

River shook his head. "No. I think someone's trying to break you."

Jace swallowed.

And then, for the first time since the threats began, he asked softly:

"What happens if they succeed?"

River didn't look away. His answer came sharp and fast.

"Then I'll burn down whoever's left standing."

The next morning was colder than usual.Not outside, inside. Inside Jace's chest, inside his thoughts.

He didn't sleep. He couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father's blurred figure on that screen. Every time he blinked, he heard Crane's voice. Calm and smooth. Just like it had always been.

But now Jace knew.

Something had happened that night. Something he wasn't supposed to find and someone was warning him to stop digging.

But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't, not when it seemed everything was coming to light.

When River walked into the kitchen, Jace was already dressed and staring blankly at the untouched coffee pot.

"You okay?" River asked.

Jace didn't answer right away. Then, softly, "I used to trust that man. Crane. He taught me how to present at board meetings. How to read contracts. How to handle power without blinking."

River poured coffee. "And now?"

Jace met his eyes. "Now I think he murdered my father."

The silence stretched between them.

River pushed a mug across the counter. "Then we take him down."

Jace nodded once. "I need access to all the old company footage. Every floor, every file. Anything that connects to Crane."

"I'll help you dig," River said. "But first... we talk about you."

Jace froze. "What?"

"You didn't sleep. You haven't eaten. You're unraveling."

"I'm fine," Jace said automatically.

River stepped closer. "No, you're functioning. That's not the same thing."

Jace swallowed hard. "I can't fall apart."

"Then lean."

Jace looked at him sharply.

River's voice was softer now. "If you won't break, then lean on something or on someone. You're not alone in this."

It took everything Jace had not to react.

Because the truth? Those words hit too deep. Too hard. He didn't want to need anyone. But part of him already did.

They spent the day working from the penthouse. River reviewed the security feeds Sasha delivered. Jace combed through old internal emails, board notes, archived reports. Most of it was sanitized and claned.

But something felt wrong.

A pattern in the way things disappeared. Certain time stamps were always missing. Certain emails always forwarded to the same account, Crane's private server.

At exactly 3:17 p.m., Jace froze mid-click.

River noticed. "What is it?"

Jace pointed. "That name. 'Marlin.' It's in the transfer log three times."

"So?"

"It was my father's codename for private contacts. He told me never to trust anyone who used it without his permission."

River leaned closer. "You think someone's impersonating him?"

"I think someone knew the codename after my father died and I think they've been accessing files using his backdoor keys for five years."

River's jaw tightened. "We need to find out who."

Jace nodded.

But before they could dig deeper, Sasha walked in, her face pale, holding a tablet.

"You both need to see this," she said. "Now."

She dropped the tablet on the counter. A news site was open. The headline was still fresh:

BREAKING: "Anonymous Source Alleges Jace Maddox's Father Was Murdered By Board Member"

River cursed under his breath. Jace's face went blank.

"Who leaked it?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sasha said. "But the media's eating it alive. They're dragging Crane. The board is panicking."

Jace's fingers tightened around the counter edge. "It wasn't us. We didn't leak anything."

"Then someone's moving ahead of us," River said.

Sasha pointed to the byline. "It was published by a freelance reporter, Noah Lang."

Jace's eyes narrowed. "He used to write about my father. Tech exposés. He vanished right after the funeral."

River grabbed his keys. "We find him."

"I'll trace his last known address," Sasha said.

They moved fast. Within the hour, River had Jace in the back seat of a secured car, Sasha feeding him directions, tension rising with every street they passed.

The building was old, tucked between warehouses on the edge of Brooklyn. It was abandoned and quiet.

River scanned the area, gun hidden under his coat, then nodded for Jace to follow him up.

They climbed the narrow stairs. The hallway smelled like dust and mildew.

Apartment 6C.

River knocked. There was no answer.

He knocked again,louder this time.

Then a voice from inside, rough and scared. "Go away!"

Jace stepped forward. "Noah, it's Jace Maddox. I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

Silence.

Then locks clicked. Slowly.

The door cracked open.

A man with hollow eyes and an unshaved jaw peeked out. "You shouldn't be here."

Jace kept his voice calm. "You leaked the story. Why?"

Noah hesitated. Then opened the door fully.

"I didn't leak it," he said. "I sent it as a warning."

Jace blinked. "To who?"

"To you," Noah said. "Because you're next."

River stepped forward. "Start talking."

Noah backed up, rubbing his face. "I've been hiding for years. Your father trusted me. He gave me files. A list of people he thought were watching him. But before he could release it, he died."

"What was on the list?" Jace asked.

Noah turned to him, eyes full of fear.

"A name. One name."

"Crane?"

Noah shook his head.

River stiffened. "Then who?"

Noah whispered:

"Dominic Hale."

River went still.

Jace looked between them. "Who's that?"

River's face had gone blank. Too blank.

He didn't answer.

Jace stepped closer. "River?"

River's jaw clenched. His voice was low.

"He's my father."