POV: Avery Knox
The coffee churned in his stomach, a sour counterpoint to the lingering mint and leather scent that clung to his clothes Leo's scent. He scrubbed his hands under scalding water in his tiny bathroom, as if he could wash away the memory of the touch, the flinch, the terrifying normalcy of it all.
The photo was on the sink's edge. YOU'RE BEING WATCHED. It was no longer just a warning. It was a fact, confirmed by the most unlikely source. Leo Maddox, the untouchable prince of Crescent High, had been driving past his mother's house at midnight. Had seen him. Had rescued him.
Coincidence. The word was ash in his mouth. There were no coincidences, not in his life anymore.
He avoided his bed, where the hidden eye might be. He slumped into his desk chair, the one pushed into the corner, and opened his laptop. The screen's glow was the only light. He needed answers, and the only person who might have them was Mila. But Mila was lying.
He opened a private browsing window. His fingers hovered over the keys. What did he even search for?
Leo Maddox family
The results were generic. Athletic achievements. A few society page photos of charity galas with his parents a handsome, severe-looking couple. Nothing useful.
Ezra Maddox
Fewer results. Mostly linked to Leo. A mention in a school newspaper about a "disciplinary transfer" in eighth grade. No details.
A cold suspicion tightened his chest. He typed again, his fingers clumsy.
Maddox family incident fire
The search wheel spun. And then, at the bottom of the page, a link to a cached article from a local newspaper in a town called Breckenville, three hours away. The headline was small, from seven years ago.
Fatal Fire at Breckenville Residence Ruled Suspicious One Juvenile Questioned.
His heart hammered against his ribs. He clicked. The page loaded slowly, text broken in places.
...early morning blaze... sole survivor, a 12-year-old male... recovered from the garage... bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Maddox recovered from master bedroom... fire marshal cited evidence of accelerant...
Arthur Maddox. Not Leo's father's name. Leo's father was Charles Maddox.
...the juvenile, whose name is withheld due to age, was released into the custody of a maternal uncle, Charles Blackwood...
Charles Blackwood. The name meant nothing. But the timeline... Seven years ago, Leo would have been about twelve.
A notification popped up on his screen a message from an app he barely used. It was a direct message. The username was a random string of numbers.
1123581321: You're looking in the right place, but you're reading the wrong page.
Avery froze, his blood turning to ice. He stared at the words. He wasn't logged into this account on his laptop. He was in a private window.
He typed back, hands trembling.
Who is this?
The reply was immediate.
1123581321: A friend. You want to know about the fire? It wasn't an accident. And the boy they questioned wasn't Leo.
A chill deeper than any he'd felt that night seized him.
Then who?
A file appeared in the transfer window. An image. Avery, against every screaming instinct, downloaded it.
It was a scanned copy of an old school ID photo. The boy was younger, maybe eleven or twelve. The features were softer, but unmistakable. The same sharp jaw, the same intense eyes, but there was a wildness in them, a smirk that looked wrong on a child's face. The name below the photo was not Ezra Maddox.
It was Elias Blackwood.
The messenger typed again.
1123581321: They changed his name when they took him in. To protect him. Or to protect everyone else. Ask your friend Mila what name her attacker whispered before he let her go.
The window closed. The user vanished.
Avery sat back, gasping for air, the room spinning. Elias. Ezra. The brother. The fire. The bodies.
His phone, charging on the desk, lit up with a new text. This time, from a known number. From Leo.
Leo: Got home safe? Just checking in.
The benign message felt like a snake coiling around his ankle. He looked from the smiling, youthful face of Elias-Ezra on his screen, to the polite text from Leo, to the crumpled photo on the sink.
He wasn't caught between two obsessed brothers.
He was trapped in the middle of a buried history,a renamed tragedy, and a love that had already proven itself to be fatal.
POV: Ezra Maddox (Elias)
Ezra's phone buzzed in the pocket of his leather jacket. He was in the garage, the sound of a grinding wheel screaming as he sharpened the edge of a knife to a wicked point. He didn't check it. He knew who it was.
The grinding stopped. In the sudden silence, he pulled the phone out. A single message, from the encrypted app.
U: He knows about Elias. The foundation is not just cracking. It's crumbling. Time to remind your brother who he's dealing with.
Ezra's lips peeled back from his teeth. It wasn't a smile. It was a grimace of anticipation.
He had been waiting for this. Leo, with his patient, creeping obsession, thought he was building a palace. But palaces could be stormed. And Ezra was a storm.
He walked into the house, the knife still in his hand. He didn't bother knocking on Leo's bedroom door. He threw it open.
Leo was at his desk, his back to the door, staring at his own screen likely another photo of Avery. He turned, annoyance flashing across his face before it smoothed into cold control. "Get out."
"He knows, Leo," Ezra said, his voice quiet, conversational.
Leo went very still. "Knows what?"
"About the fire. About me. About Elias." Ezra took a step into the room, letting the dim light glint off the freshly sharpened blade. "Your little pet is digging. Someone's feeding him shovels."
The color drained from Leo's face. It was the first crack Ezra had seen in his brother's porcelain composure in years. It was beautiful.
"You," Leo breathed, standing up so fast his chair scraped back. "You're trying to sabotage this. You're scared he'll choose me."
Ezra laughed, a real, hearty laugh that echoed in the sterile room. "Choose you? Leo, he's terrified of you. He flinched from your touch. I have it on good authority." He took another step, now in the center of the room, under the shrine of photographs. "You think this is a romance? It's a custody battle. And you're losing."
"I told you to stay away from him!" Leo's voice rose, a thin thread of panic weaving through the anger.
"Or what?" Ezra whispered, closing the final distance between them. He lifted the knife, not threateningly, but thoughtfully, as if examining his reflection in the steel. "You'll stop me? You couldn't stop me then. You needed me then. When the world was burning and our parents were screaming, you hid, Leo. And I handled it." He tapped the flat of the blade against Leo's chest, over his heart. "I've been handling your messes ever since. Avery is just the latest one."
Leo's hand shot out, grabbing Ezra's wrist, forcing the knife down. Their eyes locked, a silent, furious war of wills. The history between them the fire, the blood, the secret they shared thickened the air.
"If you touch him," Leo snarled, his voice low and guttural, "I will end you."
Ezra's wild eyes sparkled with perverse delight. "See? There's the brother I remember. Not the lovesick poet. The survivor." He leaned closer, his breath hot on Leo's face. "But here's the thing. You won't. Because if I go down, your perfect, precious world goes with me. Avery finds out everything. Who really started the fire. Who really killed those people who got too close to him. Who his knight in shining armor really is."
He twisted his wrist free and stepped back, sheathing the knife with a soft click. "So play your little game of pretend, Leo. Woo him with coffee and conversation. But remember... I'm the foundation this all sits on. And I can make it collapse whenever I want."
He turned and left, leaving Leo standing alone in the center of his shrine, surrounded by hundreds of images of a boy he could never truly have, not while the ghost of Elias lived in the room next door.
POV: The Stranger
On the main monitor, The Stranger watched the thermal imaging feed from the bug in Leo's room. Two hot blobs of anger, confrontation, then separation. Perfect.
On another screen, Avery's web history was displayed. The search for Breckenville. The download of the Elias Blackwood file. The panic was a palpable, delicious energy they could almost taste through the data stream.
They toggled a switch, activating a microphone in Avery's room. They heard the ragged, panicked breathing. Good.
Phase Two was in motion. Leo was destabilized. Ezra was provoked. Avery was terrified and seeking answers.
The Stranger picked up a small, handcrafted doll from their desk. It was crude, made of sticks and dark yarn, but it bore a startling resemblance to Avery, with two green thread eyes. They carefully tied a single, red thread around its neck, not too tight. Just a suggestion.
They placed the doll in front of the keyboard and typed a new command, sending a pulse to a device hidden in the wiring of Avery's apartment building.
In his room, Avery's desk lamp flickered once, twice, and went out, plunging him into darkness.
The Stranger smiled in the blue glow of their screens.
"Let's see who comes running first."