Rule #5: The past always finds a way to crash the party.
I hadn't planned to cry in a bathroom stall on day one.
But here we were.
Door locked. Legs pulled up. Breathing like I'd run a marathon through hell. The note. The texts. Killian. Ridgeview. It was all too much, too soon.
I pulled out the pen.
Recorder.
Why the hell did he have it? Why give it to me?
I twisted the cap anyway.
Click.
No beep. No light. Just silence.
It was probably fake. Or maybe it was real—and he wanted me to record something. Maybe it wasn't a gift. Maybe it was a trap.
Another ding. My phone buzzed.
Blocked Number:
We know what you did in Halstead.
My stomach dropped.
I hadn't heard that name in months.
I tried to breathe. Tried to remember that I wasn't there anymore. That Ava Monroe was a new name. A new life. A second chance.
But Halstead was still a weight I couldn't bury.
Another buzz.
Blocked Number:
You can run, Ava. But not from us.
I stood so fast I nearly knocked the door off its hinges.
I splashed water on my face, wiped it with a paper towel, stared into the mirror.
The girl looking back at me was pale. Cracked. But not broken.
Not again.
I walked out of the bathroom—and straight into a brick wall.
Okay, no. Not a wall. Killian Blake.
Of course.
He steadied me by the shoulders, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his expression. Not smirk. Not smug. Something else.
Concern?
Nah. Couldn't be.
"You okay?" he asked, voice lower than usual.
"Do I look okay?"
"You look like someone saw a ghost."
I pulled away. "Maybe I did."
Killian leaned in, gaze sharp. "I meant what I said earlier. You're not the only one being watched."
He slipped something into my hand again. I didn't even see him do it until it was there.
A red keycard.
No label. No writing.
Just a single number scribbled on the back: B7.
"What is this?"
He stepped back. "A door that's never meant to be opened."
"Then why give it to me?"
"Because, Monroe…" He gave a crooked half-smile. "Maybe I want to see what you'll do with it."
Then he walked away.
And I was left holding a card to something I didn't understand—with secrets chasing behind me and a past knocking louder than ever.