Chapter Fifteen — What Opens, Stays Open
We didn't go to the door right away.
That felt important.
Whatever Door 13 was, it wanted urgency. Fear. A dramatic rush toward it like we were characters who hadn't learned yet.
So we waited.
River drove. I sat in the passenger seat with Eli's sketchbook on my lap, fingers resting on the cover like it might pulse under my touch. The flash drive stayed in River's sock. We didn't joke about it this time.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, eyes on the road.
"That this is a trap?" I said.
"That Number Twelve is already compromised?" he replied.
"That whoever sent the photo wants us to feel like we're behind."
River nodded. "Yeah. That too."
We stopped at a gas station we didn't need. Bought nothing. Just stood near the drink coolers pretending to decide.
I watched River in the reflection of the glass. The way he leaned slightly forward, like he was always bracing. The crease between his eyebrows that only showed when he was tired or scared.
"You don't have to do this," I said quietly.
He didn't look at me. "Neither do you."
"That's not the same."
"Isn't it?" He turned then. "Because if you go, I go. That's been the rule since we started."
I swallowed. "I don't remember agreeing to that."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. That's because I didn't ask."
---
Number Twelve was Jonah Price.
Junior. Debate team. The kind of guy who talked like every sentence was an argument he expected to win. He lived in an apartment above his parents' nail salon — bright lights, chemical smells, chairs stacked wrong at the end of the day.
He answered the door with a bruise on his cheek and a split lip.
"Jesus," River said. "Did you trip or did someone rearrange your face?"
Jonah snorted. "Nice to see you too."
He let us in quickly. Locked the door behind us. Checked it twice.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Seems to be the theme," I replied.
Jonah paced. He didn't sit. Didn't stop moving.
"They contacted me yesterday," he said. "Not like before. No subtlety. No pretending it was optional."
River crossed his arms. "Contacted you how?"
Jonah laughed once — sharp, humorless. "They handed me a folder at school. Like it was a permission slip."
"What was in it?" I asked.
"Everything," he said. "My grades. My medical records. Stuff I didn't even know existed. Notes about my reactions. My 'compliance rating.'"
My stomach twisted. "And?"
"And they told me I was falling behind," Jonah said. "That I needed to make a choice."
River leaned forward. "Which was?"
Jonah stopped pacing. Looked directly at me.
"To bring you to Door 13."
Silence.
I felt it settle into the room — heavy, unavoidable.
"So the photo," I said slowly. "That was you."
Jonah nodded. "I didn't want to send it. They sent it from my phone."
River exhaled. "Let me guess. If you don't cooperate, you disappear."
Jonah's jaw clenched. "Or worse."
"What's worse than disappearing?" I asked.
"Living," he said. "But not as yourself."
---
We sat at his kitchen table — chipped wood, one leg shorter than the others. Jonah finally sat too, hands shaking slightly.
"Eli figured it out," Jonah said. "That Seraph wasn't about control. It was about selection. Finding out who could be shaped into something useful."
River frowned. "Useful how?"
Jonah hesitated. "Messengers. Monitors. People who can move through the world without triggering alarms."
River laughed quietly. "So spies."
"No," Jonah said. "Survivors."
That landed wrong.
Jonah slid something across the table.
A laminated badge.
No logo. No name.
Just a number.
12
"They gave this to me," he said. "Told me if I brought you to Door 13, I'd be 'released.'"
"Released where?" I asked.
He met my eyes. "That's the thing. They never said."
River pushed the badge back. "You're not doing it."
Jonah's voice broke. "I don't know if I have a choice."
I reached across the table. Took his hand. It was cold.
"You do," I said. "It's just not fair that you have to make it."
---
Door 13 was in the old science wing.
Basement level. Past the labs no one used anymore. The ones with outdated equipment and locked cabinets that still had warning labels peeling off.
The hallway lights buzzed — not ominously, just poorly maintained.
The door itself was ordinary.
White paint. Metal handle. Black 13 stenciled near the top like it had been added later.
No guards. No cameras.
That scared me the most.
River stood beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed.
"This feels like when horror movies stop being scary," he murmured. "Because the monster already won."
Jonah lingered behind us.
"I won't make you go in," he said. "But if you don't… they'll escalate."
I stared at the door.
Eli's voice echoed in my head.
They'll make it feel normal.
I reached out.
Paused.
Then knocked.
Nothing happened.
River raised an eyebrow. "Polite."
I turned the handle.
The door opened easily.
Inside wasn't a lab.
It was a classroom.
Desks. Chairs. Whiteboard. A projector mounted crookedly to the ceiling.
And on the board, written in careful handwriting:
WELCOME BACK
I stepped inside.
River followed.
Behind us, Jonah whispered, "I'm sorry."
The door closed.
Not slammed.
Just… shut.
And somewhere deep in my head, the static spiked — not into memory, not into clarity — but into something worse.
Recognition.