Morning crept in like a guilty whisper, casting long shadows across Jalen's apartment walls. He hadn't slept. His mind spun with questions—about the note, the woman at the train station, and the sentence that haunted him now:
*"The final chapter doesn't belong to the writer. It belongs to the one who survives the story."*
Jalen sat at his desk, the old red journal in front of him, and the new torn page beside it. Two pieces of a puzzle no one else even knew existed.
He turned to his laptop.
There was only one person left who might help—*Rae Lin*, the editor who had published Damon and Jalen's first and only co-authored novel, *Inkspire*. She had since moved on to freelance work, mostly in seclusion, after a very public fallout with her last publishing house.
Jalen typed a message:
> *"Rae. I need to talk. It's about Damon. About our book. Something's not right."*
He hit send. Within minutes, she replied.
> *"Meet me at the old university archives. Midnight. Come alone."*
Another midnight meeting. Another ghost from the past.
The university archive smelled of dust, forgotten ink, and stories that had never seen the light of day. Rae stood by a long oak table, her short silver hair catching the overhead light. She didn't smile when she saw him.
"I was wondering when you'd come looking," she said.
"You knew something?" Jalen asked.
Rae opened a box—one Jalen instantly recognized. Damon's old manuscript box. The original draft of *Inkspire*, before the edits, before the publishers. Jalen hadn't seen it since Damon died.
"This was never published," Rae whispered. "But Damon left notes. Letters. He was rewriting a second version of *Inkspire*. And he told me if anything happened to him, to keep it hidden."
Jalen opened the box. Inside were fragments. Half-pages, rewritten chapters, character changes that seemed eerily personal.
And then, at the very bottom, a sealed envelope with his name.
His hands shook as he opened it.
> *Jalen,*
> *If you're reading this, then I didn't make it. You're probably angry, confused, maybe even broken. I don't blame you. But what we wrote? It was never just fiction. The story was real. We wrote about corruption, about hidden truths, and we got too close. They tried to silence me. Maybe they'll come for you, too.*
> *But the real ending? It's hidden. One final chapter. It's not in this box. It's out there. Find it. Finish it. And for God's sake, protect yourself.*
Jalen looked at Rae, stunned.
"You knew?"
"I suspected," she said quietly. "But I was too scared to chase the truth. I hoped you'd come back for it one day."
Jalen nodded slowly. He now had a mission: *Find the missing chapter. Finish the story. Survive the truth.*
But he wasn't the only one looking.