under his control

Keep Off

Kale's POV

I had to get out.

My chest felt too tight. My brain was running laps and my phone was still burning a hole in my pocket with that f*****g message.

"you’re already getting comfortable. That’s his way to seduce you and I’m sure he has already claimed you."

Claimed. Like I was a goddamn jacket.

Jace was still talking with Peter and Bri about drum layers and release dates like nothing was wrong. Like I wasn’t sitting here spiraling.

“Toilet,” I muttered, pushing back from the desk.

Jace glanced up. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just… piss. I'll be back shortly.”

He nodded once, not suspicious. Not yet.

The second I was out the door I exhaled. The hall was quieter. Air conditioning humming, lights too white, posters of JMC artists lining the walls like they were in a museum. My own face wasn’t on any of them. Not yet.

I wasn’t actually going to the toilet. I was scared, and curious.

That message didn’t come from nowhere. Someone in this building knew something. Someone was watching me.

My feet moved before my brain caught up. Down the hall, past Studio B where some guy was laying vocals, past the kitchenette where two assistants were gossiping. My phone buzzed again. Molly.

MOLLY: if ur dead i’m telling everyone

MOLLY: also u owe me £20 for covering ur ass

I ignored it.

At the end of the corridor there was a plain black door with no sign except a small sticker.

SECURITY. KEEP OFF.

My stomach dropped. That was it. That was the door. Every rational part of me said turn around. Go back. Sit in Jace’s chair and pretend I wasn’t a paranoid mess.

But the other part of me, the part that saw Noah with Perry in the bathroom and got that weird message at 3am, that part said push it.

So I did.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle, expecting it not to budge. It turned. My pulse skipped. Someone had forgotten to lock it. Holy s**t.

The room was dark except for the glow of like six monitors. CCTV feeds of every angle of JMC. The lobby. The studios. The hallway I’d just walked down. I could see myself on one of them, door still open behind me.

Computers. Hard drives. A wall of cameras. It looked like something out of a spy movie, not a music studio.

“f**k,” I whispered.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. My heart was hammering so loud I was sure someone would hear it.

There was a keyboard. A mouse. One of the monitors had a search bar open. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just… typed.

NUEL

The screen blinked. Then files popped up.

Nuel Adebayo.

Artist. JMC Studios. Signed 2022.

Debut single: Gravity — 12 million streams.

Second single: Don’t Leave — 8 million.

CGT Finalist 2023.

I clicked photos. He was good looking, like unfairly good looking. Tall, dark skin, dreads tied back, that kind of smile that made you believe the lyrics. He looked about my age in the pics. Maybe 24, 25.

There were studio clips of him laughing with Peter. Him on stage. Him in this exact building, sitting in the same producer’s chair I’d been in an hour ago.

He was a star. Or he was supposed to be.

I scrolled.

Then the dates stopped.

March 2024. Last post.

After that? Nothing.

No new music. No tour dates. His socials went dead. I clicked deeper. Internal emails. Reports.

“Incident report: Equipment failure during Nuel’s CGT semi-final rehearsal. Microphone cut. Backing track corrupted.”

“Note: Nuel withdrew from competition citing ‘personal reasons’.”

“Contract suspended pending review.”

Suspended? For what?

There was another folder. Leaked.

NUELDRAFTSDELETED

I opened it. There where voice notes, demos. One was titled Jacenotes03.02.

I clicked.

Static. Then a voice. It was Jace’s voice.

“...not ready. You’re pushing too hard, Nuel. If you drop this now you’ll tank. Trust me.”

Nuel’s voice, angry. “You’re holding me back. I can do this.”

“Then do it without me.” Click.

The file ended.

My hands were shaking.

The dates lined up too perfectly. An argument. A ruined rehearsal. A withdrawn competition. Then the sudden silence. It could all be coincidence.

Or it could be the beginning of something no one wanted remembered.

Another file. Security footage thumbnail. Date: 02.03.2024. 2:14am.

I clicked it.

The screen showed this hallway. The same one. Nuel walking out of Studio looking pissed. Then Jace walking out two minutes later. Then a tech guy going in with a toolbox.

That was it. That was all the footage.

My mouth went dry.

What the hell happened to him? Where was he now?

I leaned closer to the screen, trying to read the email thread underneath. Something about a breach of contract. Something about...

The door behind me clicked.

I froze.

My blood turned to ice.

I heard footsteps. “You know," the voice said almost casually, "most people knock before walking into Security."

The voice was low and familiar. A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. My hand shot for the mouse, trying to close the folder, but the cursor refused to move. My fingers had gone numb.