Page 32 of Griffin

Just get through tonight’s stream—it’ll be over, at least for now. Todd’s counting on me.

With a deep breath, I clicked the button to go live in thirty minutes, hoping that once it was behind me, the weight pressing down would finally ease up.

LIVE IN 30 MINUTES – SHADOWFALL: REQUIEM FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

The notification went out, and the chat slowly started filling up. Familiar usernames scrolled by, fans and supporters all gearing up for the stream.

Then one username stopped me cold:mforever018.

Missed you, Michael! Can’t wait to see you tonight.

To anyone else, the message would have seemed harmless, just another comment in the flood of emojis and excited texts.

But to me, it felt like icy fingers pressing against the back of my neck, sending a chill all the way down my spine.

Chapter 8

Griffin

As the evening crowd trickled out of the bar, the night was finally quiet enough for me to catch my breath.

Work had been great, especially with Michael around. We’d been teasing each other all day, flirting, even, though I’d never admit it to Noah.

But it felt easy with him—natural, even, which surprised me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d flirted with anyone like that, let alone while working.

Even Noah had noticed. Earlier, he’d sidled up to me with that smug look on his face, clearly fishing for details.

“You’ve been acting different,” he’d said, as if trying to pull some big confession out of me.

I wasn’t biting, though. I’d just shrugged, brushed it off. It was easier than admitting there was a grain of truth to it.

But after Michael stepped out to answer a call, things felt… different. When he came back inside, something was off.

The lightness from our banter was gone, replaced with a tightness around his mouth that told me he was carrying some kind of burden he wasn’t sharing.

The bar got packed quickly after that, and I never got the chance to ask him what was going on.

Once the crowd finally cleared, I started wrapping up, still thinking about the way he’d looked after that phone call.

Just as I was closing up, I noticed an alert from my video streaming app flashing on my phone.

Michael is live.

My pulse jumped a little. Michael was streaming again? It didn’t make sense. He’d said he wanted to stay under the radar for a while.

The decision was out of character, and especially after that call he’d taken, was he pressured into it somehow?

I knew he was close with his manager.

Michael had mentioned they were friends, but if that manager actually cared about his safety, wouldn’t he be the first person to suggest Michael avoid the limelight right now?

I took a seat on a bench outside the bar and clicked on the stream, watching as Michael’s familiar face filled the screen.

He had that easy smile on, and his usual charm was intact, but I could see something in his eyes—a flicker of worry, or maybe exhaustion.

My gut twisted. Whatever had driven him to stream tonight, it didn’t feel right.

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