Chapter 5 THE NAME EVERYONE KNOWS

RILEY’S POV

I stared at the scrap of leather lying on the cracked concrete like it might burn me.

Kai bent down and picked it up between two fingers, holding it up to the faint streetlight. It was thick, worn black leather, the edge frayed like it had been caught on something sharp.

He held it out to me, and the scent hit me instantly—cedar, smoke, and something dark and sharp, exactly what I’d breathed in for a split second on that balcony.

“That was him,” Kai said quietly. “Damien. And he knows we’re talking.”

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “Why didn’t he stop? Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because he’s scared,” Kai said, tucking the scrap carefully into his jacket pocket. “Or because he doesn’t know if he can trust you. Or because he’s not the only one watching.” He glanced over his shoulder at the dark tree line. “We need to go. Now. If he’s out here, so are they.”

We walked back toward the dorms fast, sticking to the shadows, not saying another word. My mind was spinning so hard I could barely keep my feet. Damien Blackthorn. The boy everyone whispers about. The one with the dragon tattoo. The one Selena was begging for help. And he’d just stared right at me, and sped away.

By the time I slipped back into my room, Jade was half-asleep, but she woke up the second I closed the door.

“Where were you?” she mumbled, sitting up. “You’ve been gone almost an hour.”

“Just… clearing my head,” I lied, kicking off my shoes and crawling into bed. But I didn’t sleep. I lay awake until dawn, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word Kai had said, every second of that stare from the motorcycle.

The next morning, I headed straight for the library. I needed to know who he was. Really know.

I pulled up every file I could find—old campus newspapers, alumni notices, even posts from pages I’d never dared look at before. The same story repeated everywhere: Damien “Dax” Blackthorn. Only son of one of the university’s biggest donors. Expelled from his old boarding school for “disciplinary issues.” Rumored ties to underground fights and shady business deals. Keeps to himself, never brings anyone home, never answers questions.

No one mentioned Selena. No one mentioned the tattoo. No one mentioned the terrified girl I’d seen with him on prom night.

I was halfway through an old article about his family’s charity donations when a shadow fell over my table.

I didn’t look up right away. I thought it was Jade, or Kai, or someone asking for help with a broken laptop.

Then a low, rough voice cut through the quiet:

“You were on the balcony.”

My blood turned to ice. I lifted my head slowly.

He was even taller than I’d imagined. Broad-shouldered, dark hair falling over sharp, storm-grey eyes, a faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow.

He wore a dark button-down shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and even though I couldn’t see his back, I knew exactly who he was.

Damien Blackthorn.

I stood up slowly, my knees shaking so bad I almost knocked my chair over. “Who are you?”

He leaned one hand on the table, caging me in, voice low and sharp. “Someone who didn’t kill her.”

“Everyone says you were the only one close to her.” My voice came out shakier than I wanted it to. “No one even knew you were speaking to her.”

“Everyone’s being played.” His eyes bored into mine, hard and urgent. “And you poking around? Digging through records, talking to that podcast kid? You’re making their job easier.”

“Their job?” I stepped back, gripping the edge of the table. “Who are you talking about? What are you hiding?”

“Things you don’t want to know about.” He leaned closer, scent of cedar wrapping around me—same as the leather scrap, same as that night. “Walk away, Riley. Before you end up just like her.”

Then he turned and walked away, long strides eating up the stacks, and I stood there frozen, every eye in the library suddenly on me.

That afternoon, I was back in my room scribbling down everything I could remember—every word, every look, every detail of that tattoo—when Jade burst through the door, her face pale.

“Riles,” she said, locking the door behind her, voice tight. “People are talking. Marcus Hale was asking around after class. Asking if anyone knew ‘the girl who was on the upper balcony that night.’”

My pen slipped out of my fingers. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I said I didn’t know what he was talking about.” She sat down opposite me, grabbing my hands. “But if he’s asking… so are other people. Dangerous people. Please—stop this. Whatever you think you know, it’s not worth getting hurt over.”

“I can’t stop.” My voice shook, but I meant it. “She was scared, Jade. She was going to tell someone the truth. And someone killed her for it. If I walk away… no one will ever know what really happened.”

Jade looked at me for a long time, then let go of my hands with a heavy sigh. “Just… be careful. Please. I can’t lose you too.”

That night, she fell asleep early, but I stayed up working, typing every detail into a locked file, saving copies to three different drives. I was just about to close my laptop when I heard it—the soft click of my dorm door unlocking.

I froze. Jade was right there. No one else had a key.

I reached for my phone, but the screen went black.

When the lights flickered back on ten seconds later, my door was standing open.

I scrambled to my laptop. All my folders were empty. Every note, every search, every copy of the messages Kai had shown me—gone. Deleted clean.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely type. I leaned forward to check the recycle bin, and something crinkled under my fingertips on the keyboard.

It was a single folded photo.

I unfolded it slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs like it would break through.

It was me and Kai—standing behind the old gym, talking, the streetlamp glowing faint behind us. Someone had taken it from the shadows, close enough to see our faces, far enough that n

either of us had noticed.

Scrawled across the back in messy, jagged black ink: