CHAPTER 7
Riven
Gasoline - Halsey
God, my own back hurts just from hunching over for hours. I just finished a spine tattoo—a black-and-red centipede stretching the full length of someone's back.
I stretch and yawn, covering my mouth.
I can hear Charlie chatting with clients and Jules giving instructions to her last one.
My mind drifts back to the gala a week ago while cleaning my station--to my parents, the threats, the way they used Kyle as leverage, like he was nothing.
Then, as if my night couldn't have gotten any worse, to the man with the bionic arm.
I sigh, exhausted.
The shop door slides open.
“We're closing, sorry.” I call, my tone leaving no room for argument.
“Hey, everyone.” A familiar voice cuts through the shop. “I brought coffee and a vanilla milkshake.”
Liam.
I turn toward the door, and he's standing there with that big smile, holding a takeout tray full of drinks.
“Liam?” I frown. “Aren't you supposed to be at a business dinner?”
He doesn't answer.
Instead, he walks straight over, kisses my forehead, and hands me the milkshake.
I take it, glance down at it, then back at him.
“I wanted to surprise you.” He smiles.
Charlie practically launches herself at her coffee.
“Thank you, Liam!” she says, already taking a sip. “You're a sweetheart!”
I roll my eyes.
A sweetheart? Really, Charlie? That's the best you could come up with?
Jules walks over, grabs her drink, gives Liam a quick side hug, and takes a sip.
“Oh.” I smile back. “That's so sweet, Liam.”
I absentmindedly stir my straw through the milkshake.
Once everyone starts heading their own way, Liam follows me.
I don't say anything, I'm exhausted, my back hurts, I just want to lie down and sleep until death comes.
Without warning, he takes my hand and starts pulling me forward.
“Wh-What are you doing?” I ask, stumbling slightly as I try to keep up. “Where are you taking me?”
His grip doesn't loosen.
“I want to show you a new restaurant.”
“Liam, I'm tired.” I gently try to pull my hand free. “I'm not even hungry—”
“Come on.” He cuts me off, glancing over his shoulder with a warm smile. “It'll make you feel better.”
His grip tightens, just shy of painful.
He looks so happy about it that I already know saying no will make me feel like shit.
When Liam wants to do something, he never really listens.
Usually, I'd be pissed but I'm too tired to fight.
And I don't want to be the monster in the story when my boyfriend is trying to organize a date.
What kind of girlfriend would that make me?
We're probably going to some expensive place with synthetic steaks or actual meat priced like someone had to sell an organ just to serve it.
I sigh and let him drag me along.
“Okay...” I force a smile. “Let's go then.”
We arrive at a restaurant called White Heaven. Its pearl-white facade practically glowing, reflecting the city's neon like it wants everyone to know just how expensive it is.
It’s definitely going to cost one of us a month's salary.
We step inside, and we don't even have time to cross the threshold before we're immediately swarmed by waiters.
Not by humans, by fucking robots with human faces.
My eyes widen, my grip on Liam tightens instinctively.
It's creepy as hell.
It gives me the heebie-jeebies, I'm definitely not eating with that in the same room.
I instinctively take a step back, but Liam is already following the creepy waiter-robot.
“Liam... I can't.” I keep my voice low, just loud enough for him to hear. “This place creeps me out.”
“Really?” Liam stops immediately. “You can't just suck it up and eat with me? I had to pull strings to get us a table here.”
“I'm sorry, but I'm not going to suck it up.” I take another step back. “If you want to eat here, that's fine. But I won't.”
“So...” He gently places his hands on my shoulders. “What are we going to do then?”
“You looked so excited to eat here.” I tilt my head to the side. “Why don't you stay? Besides, I just remembered I need to stop by Elyas's place before heading home.”
I shrug my shoulders “He has something I lent him for his tattoo practice.”
“Oh.” Liam nods. “Elyas. Your high school friend.” His tone cools ever so slightly.
“Yeah... okay. Don't worry about it. Just text me when you get home, Riv.”
He leans in and presses a quick, gentle kiss to my lips before following the creepy-ass waiter.
The second he lets go of me, I turn around and leave.
Outside the restaurant, I physically shake myself like a dog trying to get rid of the creepiness clinging to me.
Much better.
I pull out my headphones, connect them, put on some music, and head toward Elyas's place.
Thirty minutes later, after taking the city transport, I ring Elyas's doorbell. Less than a minute later, the building door slides open.
I take the transparent reinforced-glass elevator up to his floor, the kind that opens directly into the apartment.
The second I step inside, I'm hit by the smell of a man who clearly doesn't believe in opening windows.
I sweep my gaze around.
It's a disaster, there is clothes everywhere and random shit covering every surface.
I pinch my nose shut.
Men.
They're not all like this. But, the smell? That part feels universal.
I start walking—or rather, trying not to kill myself tripping over something—and head straight for the nearest window, shoving it open.
Fresh air—or as fresh as air gets in this city—brushes against my skin, instantly making me feel better.
“Already judging me, Riv?” Elyas's voice comes from behind me, laced with sarcasm.
“Yeah. Can't you at least open a window? It smells like—”
“Sex and bad decisions,” he cuts in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Accurate.”
He leans casually against the counter.
“Well, you came for the tattoo machine?” He pauses. “I sold it.”
My eyes narrow instantly as I take a step toward him.
“Before you punch me in the guts,” he says quickly, raising both hands in surrender, “I had to pay some people back because I made a bet.”
One eyebrow shoots up.
“What do you mean you sold it?” I stare at him. “Do you even know how much a real tattoo machine costs these days? A proper coil machine?”
My voice sharpens.
“I lent it to you because you said you wanted to practice. Not to sell it.”
Elyas sighs and runs a hand through his copper hair, looking more disappointed in himself than frustrated.
“I know.” He grimaces. “At least ten thousand credits.”
“But I swear...” He shakes his head. “I was practicing at first. Then I went down to the Lower Layers and saw some insane shit. So, I made a bet.”
He winces.
“But I lost, so I had to pay them back somehow.”
I drag both hands down my face in exasperation.
“Okay, okay.” I sigh “What insane shit did you see that was worth ten fucking thousand credits?”
“Come with me.” He's already heading for the door. “I was actually about to go back there. I want to participate and win some money to pay you back.”
“Elyas, it's fine.” I wave him off. “And I'm tired. Honestly, I was just going to stop by, grab the tattoo machine, and go back to my loft.”
“Riv, I know I do stupid shit all the time, but come with me. It'll only take a few hours, and you'll be home as soon as it's over.” He pauses. “Please. I want to pay you back.”
He presses his hands together in an exaggerated pleading gesture.
I glare at him for a second before rolling my eyes.
“Fine. Okay, okay. But only two thousand credits. You keep the rest if you actually win something.”
I start walking toward the door.
“Fuck yes!” His blue eyes light up instantly. “That's the Riven I know!”
He practically jumps like a kid who just got handed a trampoline.
“You'll see.” He slams the apartment door shut behind him. “You won't regret it.”
The neon lights are dirtier down here, dimmer, less polished, their glow spilling over the exposed wires snaking along the buildings.
I stay close to Elyas, making sure I don't lose him. I've never been here before.
Hell, I didn't even know places like this existed, I knew the Lower Layers were here but this?
No.
The city feels different down here, dangerous.
Not like getting into fights with girls or guys back in high school for messing with me.
This is different, a whole other level.
The air smells of metal and rain soaked into concrete that never quite dries.
Pipes crawl across walls and rooftops, and the buildings look like they've been patched together over decades, as if nobody ever bothered rebuilding them properly.
And the people, they wear louder clothes, more colors, more tattoos, piercings and there are mods everywhere.
Some have steel spines, others wear strange masks lined with glowing neon, and I have no idea what they're even for.
In the Upper Layers, people have mods too, but they're usually for work, medical reasons, or other government-approved purposes.
Here, it's the complete opposite.
None of it looks legal, most of it seems purely aesthetic.
Elyas leads me toward what looks like the old docks.
Where the hell am I? What kind of fucked-up situation did I agree to walk into?
We approach a growing crowd, and instinctively I grab the back of his shirt.
Elyas pushes through the mass of people, one hand wrapping tightly around my wrist.
He isn't very tall, but he's broad enough that people step aside as he forces his way through.
We finally stop near the edge of the crowd.
There are all kinds of people here and they are roaring and cheering like animals waiting for blood.
But for what?
Then a tall, broad-shouldered man with scars carved across his cheeks steps onto a raised platform I hadn't even noticed before, too busy trying not to get overwhelmed by everything around me.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice explodes through the microphone. “Welcome to the weekly competition!”
The crowd erupts instantly.
What the fuck did Elyas drag me into?
“Take your places! Make your bets!” The man grins. “But don't forget...” His smile sharpens. “This isn't a game.”
A pause.
“This is life or death.”
Then he drops the microphone where he stands and walks off the platform.
I stare after him, completely lost, while the crowd immediately surges into motion.
Before I can process anything, Elyas tugs on my wrist again and drags me with him.
“Elyas!” I raise my voice, loud enough for him to hear over the chaos.
He glances back.
“What the hell is happening? I don't want to be part of whatever this shit is!”
“Relax, Riv!” He laughs. “It'll be fun! And I need to pay you back somehow!”
Suddenly, he heads toward a car, a beautiful but heavy-looking black-and-white machine.
I barely have time to react before Elyas yanks open the passenger door and gently but firmly shoves me inside.
Then he buckles me in and slams the door shut.
“What the fuck is this?!” I start raising my voice.
Elyas slides into the driver's seat, starts the engine, and slowly rolls toward a thick white line painted across the ground.
Other cars line up beside us.
A loud mechanical buzzing approaches overhead.
I look up just as a drone glides above the starting line, hovering over the cars like some kind of execution camera.
My eyes dart everywhere, trying to take in every detail at once.
And then it hits me but it's too late.
It's a race. An illegal one.
That means speed, accidents.
No.
Anything but this.
My hands begin to shake violently, but the rest of my body feels glued to the seat.
“Don't worry, Riv!” Elyas grins, sounding proud, cocky, and confident. “I got this!”
My eyes drift to his hands--They're shaking too, his knuckles are white against the steering wheel.
I open my mouth to answer, to tell him to not fucking do that.
Nothing comes out.
I should've eaten with Liam or gone straight home. I should've done that.
Now I'm stuck here and I'm terrified.
The drone flashes the countdown overhead.
5...
4...
3...
2...
The engines around us roar to life.
1...