Chapter 38 Gage
THIRTY-EIGHT
GAGE
River’s body is curled against mine, her skin warm and soft under the covers. The light from the window is just starting to break through the curtains. I want to stay like this—want to press pause on everything outside this room. Just her. Me. And the steady rhythm of her breath against my chest.
She said I love you last night, and my mind is rapidly thinking about our future.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand breaking me from my thoughts. Then again. And again.
I groan softly and reach for it, squinting at the screen.
58 unread messages.
What the hell?
The first one is from Arrow.
Did you see this?
There’s a link. My gut clenches. I steel myself, expecting another deepfake. Another nightmare someone at Cathedral has cooked up to ruin River’s life.
But this is worse.
Way worse.
“Three Found Dead in River Following NovaPlay Party,” the headline reads.
Benny. Alan. Ryan.
Their names are burned into the article.
My pulse spikes.
They were the assholes harassing River last night. The ones I threatened.
I shoot upright in bed, the blood draining from my face.
River stirs beside me. “Gage?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and it kills me to wake her up with this.
I shift to face her. “Hey,” I say gently, brushing her blue hair back from her face. “Baby, I need you to wake up. Something happened.”
Her eyes flutter open. “What is it?”
I hold up the phone, the article open. “Benny, Alan, and Ryan. They were found dead this morning in the river. It looks like gang violence. Some kind of setup after they left the after-party.”
Her eyes widen, and she sits up. “What? No. That’s… are you serious?”
I nod. “Arrow sent it to me just now.”
She reads the headline and gasps. “They were horrible to me last night, but—Gage, this can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s not,” I say, already half out of bed, pulling on my jeans. “This is connected. Has to be.”
My phone buzzes again. It’s Arrow calling.
“Yeah?” I answer.
His voice is tight. “We’ve got a problem. Cops are looking for both of you. They want to question you about the incident. They think there might’ve been some kind of altercation before the guys left.”
I curse under my breath. “They harassed River, I confronted them. That’s it.”
“I know that,” Arrow says. “But word got around that you nearly decked them. Someone reported you looking aggressive. It’s not great optics, man.”
River’s already scrambling to get dressed, her face pale. “What do we do?”
“We head to my place,” I tell Arrow. “We’ll meet them there, let them question us in a controlled setting.”
“Copy that,” Arrow says. “Knight and I will run cover. You’re not going in alone.”
I hang up and turn to River, who’s slipping on her jeans, fingers trembling.
“Hey.” I move to her, pull her close. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I didn’t think it would escalate like this,” she whispers. “It’s all unraveling so fast.”
I press my forehead to hers. “We’re going to get through it. I promise.”
We head out of Riverside, keeping it low-key. I drive us straight to my place—neutral territory, somewhere we can control the narrative before the cops twist it.
Arrow and Knight are already there, sitting in my kitchen with laptops open and phones buzzing.
“Cops are on their way,” Arrow says, standing. “They want to ask a few questions, but we’ve arranged to have Dean Maddox, head of Maddox Security looped in.”
“Thanks,” I say, and glance at Knight, who’s already pulling up street cam footage from last night. “Anything?”
“Working on it,” he mutters, eyes scanning the feeds.
River sits on the edge of the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. She’s quiet, and I can see the gears in her mind spinning—connecting things, calculating the fallout.
I crouch in front of her. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
She lifts her gaze to mine, and I see the tears behind her eyes. She’s strong, but this? It’s too much. “I’m worried they might try to pin this on you.”
I nod. “We’re close. And someone’s trying to silence us before we get there.”
Knight glances up. “You think this is Helena?”
“I think it’s her or someone she’s directing,” I say. “This feels like a cleanup. She was so smug when I blew up on the guys. Like she planned this.”
Arrow frowns. “But what’s the angle? Frame Gage for murder? Use it to smear River in the press?”
“Or keep her scared,” I say darkly. “Either way I’m not going down for this. We need to figure out what happened.”
River’s hands tighten into fists. “I want to be angry. I want to scream. But right now, I’m just terrified that this isn’t the end. What if we’re next?”
I take her hands in mine. “They want us to feel that way. But you’re not alone anymore, River. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”
She nods slowly, a tear escaping down her cheek.
Just then, a knock sounds at the door.
Arrow checks the peephole. “It’s the cops. Showtime.”
I stand and steel myself. “Let’s give them the clean version. No drama, no defensiveness. Just the truth.”
“Got your back,” Knight mutters.
The interview takes a while.
Two detectives. A lot of questions.
They prod at our version of the night—ask about the altercation, about what was said, who saw it. I admit I lost my temper, that I told them off, but I never touched them.
“Where were you after the party?” the cop asks.
“I went to a place with River. It’s an old print shop on Riverside.” I rattle off the address, and they write it down in their stupid little pad of paper.
“Can you confirm this?” the other cop asks. He looks at River like she’s the scum on the bottom of his shoe. They’re obviously not buying anything we’re putting out there.
River nods. “Yes, we were together.”
The cop glances at his phone, and answers.
“Yes. Yes. Yes, Ma’am. Got it.” He hangs up the phone, shoving it into his back pocket and then reaching for his handcuffs off his belt.
“Gage Dawson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Alan Rottledge.
Benjamin Foster. And Ryan Carmine.” He goes through the motions of slapping the cuffs on my wrists.
“Don’t say a fucking word,” Dean Maddox says through the Zoom call.
Arrow nods. “We’ll get this all settled. Hang tight,” he tells me.
River stares at me and starts crying. “He didn’t do this,” she tries to plead with the cops, but they’re not listening.
“Don’t cry,” I tell her, knowing full well whatever they’ve got on me won’t stick, because…well obviously. I didn’t fucking do it.
I, however, keep quiet. Arrow’s attorney friend talks through the speakers asking what they’ve got on me. The other cop takes the bait, and mentions a video of me doing the crime.
How convenient.