Chapter 7: Old Haunts, New Secrets (Silas POV)

Nico’s out chasing Lena for answers, and I’m alone in the loft, staring at the dead laptop. The screen’s black, that half-message stuck in my head: “You’ll see me when—” nothing. My chest feels heavy, like it’s been since the video dropped and everything went wrong. I can’t sit here, waiting, with Harper’s glare and Nico’s panic spinning in my mind. I need air, need something familiar. So I grab my jacket, head out, and walk toward a spot I haven’t hit in years—a little record shop off Main, a haunt from before Cole died.

The streets are quiet, just a hum of cars and wind rustling leaves. My sneakers crunch on gravel as I cut through alleys, hands in my pockets. The shop’s still there, faded sign swinging: “Vinyl Haven.” It’s where Cole and I used to dig through crates, laughing over old punk records. I push the door open, bell jingling, and step into the past. The smell hits me—dust, wax, a hint of coffee. Shelves are packed with records, some warped, some new. It’s quiet, just a guy at the counter flipping through a magazine. I head to the back, running my fingers over the covers, remembering Cole’s grin when he’d find a gem.

I’m flipping through a stack when I hear a voice. “Silas?” I turn, and it’s Riley, an old friend from those days. She’s leaning on a shelf, short hair messy, a coffee cup in her hand. “Hey,” I say, surprised. “Didn’t know you still came here.” She smiles, small and tired. “Sometimes. You?” I shrug. “Needed a break.” She nods, like she gets it, and steps closer. “Heard you’re spinning again,” she says. “Cole would’ve liked that.”

His name stings, and I look away, guilt creeping up. “Yeah,” I mutter, flipping a record over just to keep my hands busy. Riley knew him too, hung out with us back then. She’s quiet for a second, then says, “You okay? You look rough.” I force a laugh. “Been a crap week.” She tilts her head, watching me. “Something’s up. Spill it.” I hesitate, but her eyes are steady, like she won’t judge. “Someone’s messing with me,” I say, low. “Blackmail, old stuff. Maybe tied to Cole.”

Her face changes, goes still. “What kind?” she asks, voice careful. I lean on the shelf, keeping it vague. “Video of me and my guy. Threats about stuff I did.” She nods, slow, sipping her coffee. “Cole stuff?” she says, quieter now. My stomach twists. “Maybe,” I say. “Someone knows more than they should.” She looks away, out the window, then back at me. “He talked about you a lot,” she says. “Before the crash.”

I freeze, heart thumping. “What’d he say?” I ask, stepping closer. She shrugs, but it’s not casual. “Just that you two had plans. Music, gigs, big stuff. Said you’d stick together.” Guilt hits hard, and I see the car again—twisted metal, his blood on the dash. “I screwed that up,” I say, voice rough. She shakes her head. “Wasn’t all you. He had secrets too.” My head snaps up. “What secrets?” I ask, loud enough the counter guy glances over.

Riley steps closer, lowers her voice. “He was into something before he died. People, deals, I don’t know what. He didn’t tell me much.” My mind races. “Deals?” I say, frowning. “Like what?” She shrugs again. “He’d meet someone, late nights, wouldn’t say who. Said it’d help you both.” I stare at her, trying to piece it together. Cole never told me that. Was he hiding something? Something that got him killed? “Why didn’t he say?” I ask, quieter now. She looks sad. “Maybe he didn’t want you in it.”

I turn away, running a hand through my hair. The crash plays again—me driving, him laughing, then silence. I always thought it was my fault, distracted, too late to swerve. But now? “You think it wasn’t an accident?” I ask, turning back. Her eyes widen, just a little. “I don’t know,” she says. “But he was scared, last time I saw him.” My chest goes cold. Scared? Cole? He never showed me that. What was he into? And why’s it coming up now?

I grab a record, hold it tight, just to feel something solid. “This blackmail,” I say, slow. “Could it be tied to that?” Riley nods, careful. “If someone knew him, yeah. They might know you too.” My head’s spinning, guilt mixing with questions. Was there more to his death? Something darker I missed? I see Harper’s face, her hate, and wonder if she knows too. “I’ve got to dig into this,” I say, mostly to myself. Riley watches me, quiet.

She steps closer, voice dropping low. “There’s something else,” she says, almost a whisper. I look at her, waiting. “He kept a journal,” she says. “Wrote stuff down, people, plans. It’s missing since he died.” My heart skips. “A journal?” I say, voice shaky. She nods. “Yeah. He told me once, said it’d explain things if anything happened.” I stare at her, mind blank for a second. “Where is it?” I ask, urgent. She shakes her head. “Gone. But you need to find it, Silas. Before it’s too late.”

Her words hang there, hushed and heavy, and I feel a chill. Too late for what? I don’t ask, can’t, because my throat’s tight. She steps back, coffee cup empty now, and I’m left reeling. A journal, secrets, Cole’s death—truths I don’t know, hiding out there. I’m stuck, unsure what’s real anymore, what’s waiting for me.