Page 176 of Discordant Cultivation

He forced himself to his feet, his guitar clattering against its stand.

“F-Fuck,” Kieran muttered, heading upstairs on shaky legs. “Eat. Take your meds. Stop th-thinking about—just stop.”

The kitchen was exactly as he’d left it that morning, his pill bottle sitting in accusation on the counter. Kieran forced himself to make an actual sandwich, eating without tasting while his mind circled back to the song.

The doorbell rang.

Kieran froze mid-bite, his sandwich halfway to his mouth, every muscle locking with instant panic. Vale’s voice was in his head, clear as if he were standing right there: “This is the code to unlock the door, to be used only if the house is burning down. Never answer the door when I’m not home. Ever.”

He set the sandwich down with trembling hands, moving toward the living room to peek through the window without being seen. Maybe it was a delivery person. Maybe it was nothing.

The knocking came again, more insistent.

“Thorn?” A female voice, muffled but familiar. “It’s Jericho. I know you’re in there. Please, I need to talk to you.”

No. She can’t be here. She needs to leave before—

Kieran backed away from the door, his heart hammering against his ribs. If he just stayed quiet, she’d think he wasn’t home. She’d leave. Everything would be fine.

But the knocking continued, and Jericho’s voice carried through the door with increasing urgency. “Please, Thorn. I know something’s wrong. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks—the messages about my pet situation. You never responded, but I know you got them. Just five minutes. Please.”

Go away.

“I brought someone who understands what you’re going through,” Jericho continued. “Someone who was hurt by Vale too. We just want to help you, I swear. If you’re really okay, prove it. Open the door and tell us to leave, and we’ll go.”

If I don’t answer, she’ll think I can’t. She’ll think I’m trapped. She might call someone—police, social services, someone who’d ask questions Vale can’t answer.

Breathe. Slow. Calm.

She wants proof I’m not in danger. Okay.

He’d open the door long enough to say he was fine, that she needed to leave, that her help wasn’t wanted or needed. Thirty seconds of conversation and she’d understand.

Kieran moved to the door on autopilot, unlocking it before his anxiety could override the decision. He cracked it open just enough to see Jericho’s worried face.

“You n-need to leave,” he said, keeping his voice firm despite the tremor running through his hands. “I’m f-fine. I don’t need—”

His eyes caught movement behind her—a man in his late twenties, handsome despite the haunted pallor of his skin, watching Kieran with an intensity that made his stomach clench.

“Who is th-that?” Kieran’s voice pitched higher with panic. “You need to g-go. Both of you. Right now.”

“This is Alex,” Jericho said quickly, her foot wedging into the gap before Kieran could slam the door. “He found me after the networking event—we’ve been comparing notes for months. Everything he told me about Vale’s methods—”

“We’re here to help you,” Alex said, and his voice carried a desperate sincerity that made Kieran’s panic spike into terror. “I know you think you’re okay. I thought I was okay too.”

“I d-don’t need help!” The words came out too loud, too sharp. Kieran tried to close the door but Jericho’s foot was blocking it, and then she was pushing, and suddenly they were inside.

Inside his home. Inside the space that was supposed to be safe.

“Please,” Jericho said, her hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just listen to us for five minutes. That’s all we’re asking.”

But Kieran was already backing away, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to put distance between himself and these intruders. His eyes darted toward the basement—the studio, his safe space, where Vale’s presence lived in every piece of equipment.

“Vale will be h-home soon,” he managed, though his voice shook. “You need to go b-before—”

“That’s exactly why we’re here now,” Alex interrupted, and something in his tone—bitter, jealous, knowing—made Kieran’s breath catch. “While he can’t stop us.”

They planned this. They waited until I was alone. They knew he’d be gone.