Chapter 6
They waited until nightfall.
Riven had been left alone in a room that was nicer than he expected and far too quiet.
No one had locked the door, but the unspoken warning was louder than any guard.
He spent most of the day pacing, eyes on the skyline outside the narrow window.
Atlantis looked slick and glittering from a distance, chrome towers and mirrored lights.
But the Seam wasn’t part of that skyline.
The Seam slouched low, heavy with smoke and ruin and old, hungry things that didn’t bother dressing themselves in the sheen of modernity.
A knock came just after sunset, not polite but final.
He opened the door to find the same woman as before. “It’s time,” she said. No room for questions. She turned and strode off like she trusted he’d follow.
He did.
They exited through a side hall that sloped downward, the air growing cooler and tinged with the faint tang of oil and salt.
She led him to a private garage, a long, concrete space with humming lights and two parked vehicles—an armored car, and beside it, a matte black motorcycle that looked too sleek to be street legal.
Leaning against it was Thane.
He looked different in the dim lighting. Less knife, more shadow. His sleeves were rolled again, exposing forearms corded with muscle and ink, and his jacket was draped over the handlebars. The curve of his throat caught the low light, and Riven’s gaze snagged there just for a second too long.
“Don’t tell me you’re coming,” Riven muttered.
Thane didn’t smile. “Would you prefer I sent you in blind and alone?”
“I’d prefer not going at all.”
“Not an option,” Thane said coolly. “I’ll be your handler tonight. A voice in your ear, nothing more.”
Riven’s eyes narrowed. “Why you?”
“Because I don’t trust anyone else,” Thane said. “And because I want to see how you move when it matters.”
The words slithered under Riven’s skin. He hated that. Hated how Thane’s voice managed to curl around what he didn’t want exposed.
He was handed a comm—thin, barely noticeable, fit snugly into his ear. Thane slid his own into place with practiced ease, then mounted the bike with a fluid, effortless grace that made Riven’s stomach flip in a way he would absolutely not name.
“You riding or walking?” Thane asked over his shoulder.
Riven scowled and swung one leg over, gripping the seat behind Thane. He kept his hands at his sides.
“Better hold on,” Thane said, revving the engine with a low growl. “I don’t slow down for pride.”
Riven cursed and grabbed the nearest thing to steady himself—Thane’s waist.
Riven ignored the way his body reacted, how the press of muscle under leather made his thoughts skid off the rails. Thane smelled like clove and ash.
The bike roared forward, and the city lights stretched into smears of gold and steel. They slipped through traffic like they owned the road, darting down side routes and narrow overpasses, moving toward the rusted veins of Atlantis where the polish wore off and the city started to bleed.
The Seam emerged like a wound.
Here, the buildings sagged. Neon signs flickered, some half-dead, some too bright. Smoke curled from chimneys that had never seen regulation. People moved like ghosts—fast, suspicious, low to the ground.
Thane slowed just enough to be deliberate, then pulled into a shadowed alley behind a strip of crumbling businesses. He killed the engine.
“We walk from here.”
Riven dismounted and tugged his coat tighter, his palms still tingling from Thane’s heat.
“Tell me you’re at least staying out of sight,” Riven muttered.
“I’ll be close,” Thane said. “You won’t see me, but I’ll see you.”
Riven resisted the urge to ask how and instead focused on the building ahead.
The Ember Gate looked like a collapsed lung from the outside—red light leaking through the cracks, music throbbing from deep within.
It was a place for deals and bad decisions, and Riven had grown up knowing how to make both.
His comm crackled softly.
“You remember the plan?” Thane asked in his ear.
“Get in. Find Lareth. Pretend I’m scum desperate enough to sell my soul for a cut of what they’re making.”
“You won’t have to pretend very hard.”
Riven bristled, then realized it wasn’t quite an insult. It sounded almost like recognition.
He swallowed the sting and stepped into the haze of light spilling from the entrance.
The doorman didn’t blink at him, just lifted the rope.
Inside, the world was smoke and synth bass. Bodies swayed on the dance floor, wrapped in velvet and shadow. Glamour spells sparked like fireflies. Riven moved through it all with ease, head down, eyes sharp.
But even with the pulsing lights and the smell of sweat and old magic, the weight of Thane’s presence stayed close—the echo of a hand still pressing against his chest.
And given his reputation, walking into this environment, part of him didn’t hate it.