Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Iwoke to the memory of Griffin's hand pressed between my shoulder blades. Not the touch itself; that had ended hours ago. The heat remained.
For three breaths, I remained still. Then the awareness broke.
Last night, Griffin had touched me without asking permission from anyone who mattered to the machine. There were no handlers clearing the proximity.
He'd touched me because I'd asked him to stay. Looking back, I wasn't reckless. We risked exposure, but we'd written something true.
My phone showed 9:21 AM. It was a rest day in Portland.
I checked the peephole before opening my door. The hallway looked wrong. Two security officers I didn't recognize stood at the elevator bank. New faces. Positioned with clear sight lines to my door.
I locked myself back inside.
Griffin: Security adjustment overnight. Nothing immediate. Kang briefing at 11:00.
Rune: What kind of adjustment?
Griffin: Enhanced proximity protocols. I'll explain at the briefing.
Enhanced proximity meant more eyes, tighter margins, and less air.
At 10:58, I knocked on Kang's door. Griffin answered.
For one unguarded second, our eyes met and everything from last night surfaced: the heat and the honesty. Then his expression smoothed into professional neutrality.
Kang stood by the window. Soyeon sat on the couch. Jinwoo was already there, posture alert.
No Soo-jin. It was worth noting.
"Sit," Kang said.
I sat beside Jinwoo. Griffin positioned himself near the door, where he could see everyone.
Kang spoke. "Overnight, we implemented enhanced protocols. That means additional personnel and shortened check-in intervals."
"Why?" Jinwoo asked.
"Pattern escalation. Portland confirmed what Griffin and I suspected. Something or someone is testing boundaries systematically."
Griffin spoke quietly. "Someone's determining how close they can get. They're looking for vulnerabilities."
His voice was calm and professional. No one would have guessed last night happened.
"The unsealed corridor wasn't an accident," Griffin continued. "Someone overrode the lockout protocols. They pulled a security officer off his position citing a comms issue that didn't exist. The timing was too precise."
Jinwoo's jaw tensed. "And you think they're targeting Rune specifically?"
"Yes," Kang said.
Everyone's attention shifted toward me. It was a protective reflex.
"What do we do?" I asked.
"We maintain protocols. Enhanced proximity. Limited movement. Controlled environments until we understand the intent."
"For how long?"
"Until the threat resolves or we identify the source."
That meant indefinitely. I nodded as if it were reasonable to be contained.
Kang announced new rules. "I'm revising the rest day protocols. No solo movement. Security accompaniment is required for any off-site activity. Pre-approved routes only."
"Can I walk?"
Everyone looked at me. "Walk where?" Kang asked.
"Anywhere. Outside. With security. I don't care about the route. I need air that isn't filtered."
Kang glanced at Griffin. "I'll clear a route. Griffin will accompany you with additional security at a distance. Timed check-ins. Two hours maximum."
"Thank you."
The briefing ended. Jinwoo left first, still tense. Soyeon followed.
I stood up to leave.
Griffin stopped me. "The walk. We'll go whenever you're ready."
"Now?"
"Now works."
Twenty minutes later, we left through the service entrance. The air was cool, and the pavement was damp. Portland's weather promised rain.
Griffin fell into step beside me. Officer Yoon, a recent addition, dropped back twenty meters, visible but not intrusive.
We walked west toward the Willamette River. The streets were quieter than San Francisco or Vancouver. People passed without looking twice. I watched a woman with a dog and then a cyclist. Someone carried coffee and strolled like they had nowhere urgent to be.
For ninety minutes, I could almost pretend I was an ordinary person out for a walk.
"Kang's route keeps us visible," Griffin said quietly. "No alleys. No enclosed spaces. If you want to stop, we stop."
I pulled my cap lower. "I understand the constraints."
We crossed into Waterfront Park. The river stretched gray-green to our left. Trees lined the path.
A couple sat on a bench ahead, quiet and simply existing together.
"We can sit," Griffin said. "There's a bench with clear sight lines thirty meters ahead. It fits the approved parameters."
It was a careful, professional offer.
"Okay."
We walked to the bench. I sat on the left, and Griffin took the right, leaving six inches between us. Officer Yoon stopped at his twenty-meter mark.
I spoke first. "In another life, I could be a regular person sitting by the river. No one would know my name, and they wouldn't care who was with me."
"You'd still write songs."
I glanced at Griffin. "How do you know?"
"Because that's part of who you are."
His observation carried weight.
"Maybe, but I would write honestly. I wouldn't worry about who gets hurt when people figure out what the metaphors actually mean."
"You already write honestly."
"No. I write carefully. There's a difference."
Griffin rested his hand on the bench between us. I wanted to close the gap, but I didn't move.
I was restless. I stood and kept walking.
We crossed under the Morrison Bridge, steel latticework casting geometric shadows. Portland had a different feel from San Francisco's aggressive energy or Vancouver's polished waterfront. It was quieter, less performative.
The damp pavement made everything smell sharper—wet concrete, river water, and the ever-present pine.
Griffin stayed close without touching. His hands were visible at his sides, not in pockets. Ready.
We turned onto a quieter side street. There were fewer people and more trees. The older buildings were brick and wood instead of glass and steel.
"Fifteen minutes before we need to loop back," Griffin said quietly.
I stopped walking. He stopped immediately at my side. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just—" I stared at the empty street ahead. "I need to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"Not here, but soon. Before we go back."
"Is this about the threat?"
I took a deep breath. "It's about who's behind it."
"You know then," he said.
"95% sure." My voice was steadier than expected. "And I need to tell you before I lose the nerve."
"There's a park two blocks east," Griffin said quietly. "Smaller. Less traffic. Still within approved parameters."
"How do you know that?"
"I walked the entire route this morning before you woke up."
"Okay. There."
The small park held a few benches, a patch of grass, and a single Japanese maple tree with flaming red leaves.
Griffin checked his phone. "Ten minutes before we need to head back." He glanced at Officer Yoon, who'd stopped at the park's edge and turned away from us.
I sat on one of the benches. Griffin sat beside me, leaving the same six inches. For a moment, I simply breathed and watched the leaves move in a slight breeze.
My palms were sweating. The words came out in a rush. "Soo-jin wasn't just management. There was a relationship."
Griffin was still. I kept going.
"It started three years ago. Quiet. Secret. We constructed it on stolen time and the lie that secrecy meant safety." I pressed my thumb against my index finger. "We both understood what exposure would mean."
"What would it mean?" Griffin's voice was calm.
"The end of everything. Not only me. Jinwoo, Taemin, Minjae, everyone who'd sacrificed so much. It would all be gone." I paused. "Not because I loved someone. Because I loved the wrong type of someone."
Griffin scanned the park perimeter, then turned back to me.
"It ended eighteen months ago. His choice. He said it was for the band. He thought we'd gotten too comfortable and believed someone would notice, eventually." I looked at my hands. "He expected me to accept that as a sign of his love and his desire to protect me."
"Did you accept it?"
"No." The word sounded harsh. "I understood it as Soo-jin protecting the machine. Choosing the system over—"
Over me. I didn't speak the final word. I didn't need to.
Griffin was silent.
"Exposure would have consequences," I said. "I agreed with that, but he framed it like a noble sacrifice instead of erasure. His relationship with me was disposable if that was the price of protecting Violet Frequency."
"You're not disposable." His voice was firm and certain.
"Soo-jin thinks I am. Or at least he thinks I'm manageable and containable. He only needs to apply the right pressure, and I'll comply."
Griffin looked up, and I stared into his eyes. "He's not only my ex. He's a gatekeeper, and he knows how to make me disappear without violence."
"How?"
"By painting me as unstable or unworkable." I looked at a single leaf lying on the grass. "He wouldn't need violence. He would use documentation and force me into medical leave. It would be a stress-related absence. Language that sounds like care but functions as removal."
Griffin's right hand curled slowly into a fist.
"The threats," he said. "The hotel room access. The backstage alterations here."
"I think so." My voice was steady. "I think he's been testing what it takes to destabilize me. I think he knows about you and me."
Griffin exhaled slowly.
"I don't have proof. It's just his timing. The messages stopped right after you joined. He shifted toward physical signals."
"I received threatening texts the day I joined the tour in San Francisco. I didn't tell anyone because they stopped."
It was news, but it wasn't a shocking revelation. We sat in silence.
Officer Yoon remained at the park's edge, back turned. A single car passed, and somewhere, a dog barked.
"I should have told you about Soo-jin sooner," I said. "Before last night. Before—"
"Before we crossed lines that can't be uncrossed."
"Yes."
Griffin turned to look at me. "Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
"Last night?"
"Yes."
I thought about the comfort and certainty of being held in his arms. Remembered the dangerous intimacy of hearing him say my real name.
"No, but I regret what it might cost you."
He rubbed his cheek. "That's not a weight you should carry."
"It is when my presence is being used against you. In four days, it might not matter anyway."
Griffin shook his head. "I'm not going. We're changing the board."
"How?"
"I don't know yet, but we can't do it by letting you disappear. And we don't do it by me walking away."
"Soo-jin will expect that. He'll create situations that make staying look unprofessional. He'll build a case that I'm unstable and you're compromised, and the only solution is separation."
"Let him try."
It was a challenge, quiet and absolute. I wanted to believe him.
Griffin's phone buzzed. "Time," he said. "We need to head back."
We walked back in silence. Every block brought us closer to the hotel where security had tightened and the machine was waiting.
I'd told Griffin the truth and given the threat a name. I exposed Soo-jin. The confession didn't make things safer, but it offered more clarity.
Griffin's hand brushed mine as we walked. It was a reminder that I wasn't alone.
The hotel appeared ahead. I took one last breath of sharp Portland air, pine needles and river water.
Then we went inside. Griffin rode the elevator with me and walked me to my hotel room door.
"Now you rest. I'll coordinate with Kang. We'll make sure Soo-jin understands that removing me won't be as simple as he thinks."
"Be careful," I said.
"Always."
***
When I was inside my room, my phone buzzed.
Taemin: You survived the walk. Good.
Rune: Barely.
Taemin: You missed us. I'm in the lobby watching Minjae pretend he's not watching the new security setup.
Rune: What's he doing?
Taemin: Being Minjae. Noticing everything and not saying anything.
I set the phone down and opened my laptop, staring at the lyrics I'd been avoiding.
I learned to breathe in borrowed air
Learned to want in borrowed time
Learned the difference between being held
And being kept alive
The bridge still didn't work. I'd been trying to fix it since we left San Francisco. I highlighted the entire verse and deleted it, then started over.
You taught me how to disappear
Called it safety, called it care
But I'm learning how to want the air
Even when it burns
I stopped. That was too honest and specific. If I kept that verse, too many people would understand exactly what it meant.
I saved it anyway and closed the laptop. My phone buzzed again.
Griffin: Talked to Kang. Enhanced protocols stay through LA. He's reviewing access logs for the last seventy-two hours.
Rune: Looking for what?
Griffin: Patterns. Who had access to what when things changed.
There was a knock on my door. I checked the peephole. It was Minjae. I opened it.
He stood in the hallway wearing joggers and an oversized hoodie, hands in his pockets. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were alert.
"Can I come in?"
I stepped back, and he entered. Minjae spoke again, "Something's wrong."
"Yes."
"Are you safe?"
It was a tough question.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
Minjae crossed to a bed and sat down . "The additional security. The protocols. Everyone's pretending it's routine, but it's not."
"They are."
"Does it have to do with Griffin?" He waved his hands. "I'm not asking if you're… whatever. I don't care about that, but I need to know if you're in danger, or if we're in danger."
"No one's targeting the band. It's only me."
"That's no better."
Minjae stood and walked to the window. "Portland. The corridor. The way everything lined up too perfectly to be an accident." He turned. "Someone's testing how close they can get, aren't they?"
"Griffin thinks so."
"Soo-jin's been different since Griffin joined. Not obvious. But he's..." Minjae struggled for words. "He's watching you differently from the rest of us now. Like you're a problem he's solving instead of someone he's managing."
My blood ran cold. Minjae noticed. Of course, he noticed.
I couldn't find any more words, so I said what I could. "I need a nap."
Minjae nodded slowly and accepted the cue.
"Okay," he said, "but if any of this gets worse, or if you need anything—"
"I'll tell you."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He moved toward the door, then stopped. "Griffin's good at his job. I've been watching. He sees things before they happen. Like when he moved you away from that photographer in Vancouver before you even saw them. He's that good, but he can't be everywhere."
"I know."
"So be careful. Even when you think you're safe."