His voice cracked, jaw tightening further.
"They were after me. And if it weren't for Silas…" He exhaled a shaky breath, swallowing hard as his throat closed up. "I might have been…"
He shut his eyes tightly, the weight of memory crashing over him like a wave he couldn't outrun.
Ryder's body tensed beneath the sheets as flashes of Lorenzo's final moments seared behind his eyelids—the look of defiance on his head bodyguard's face, the blood splattering across the floor, the sound of a blade piercing flesh.
He exhaled slowly, the weight in his chest only growing heavier as scattered fragments of truth collided inside his head.
He was putting the pieces together—but he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. Not yet.
"Damn…" he muttered under his breath, scoffing bitterly, "I was going to congratulate you and Ryley…"
Alas, the joke didn't even reach his eyes. It was a hollow attempt at levity, one Clyde saw straight through.
