RYAN
The ride to my penthouse was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the tense space between us. Mia sat beside me, her body stiff, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her silence wasn't surprising. After that note—'You're next'—fear had etched itself into her every movement.
And as much as I wanted to ignore it, to brush it off as inconsequential, something about the note unsettled me. This wasn't a random threat. It was a message, aimed directly at me, using Mia as its delivery method.
I stole a glance at her as we pulled up to the building. Her wide eyes scanned the towering structure, lips parting slightly in what could only be described as awe.
"This is where you live?" she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.
I pushed the car into the park and looked at her, arching a brow. "Problem?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Just… nothing."
Her words trailed off, and I didn't press her. I wasn't in the mood to explain my choices, least of all to her.
Inside the penthouse, I watched as she surveyed her surroundings, taking in the sleek furniture, the sharp lines, and the cold perfection of the space. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, the way she struggled to reconcile this world with her own.
"You'll stay in the guest room," I said, nodding toward the hallway. "Second door on the right."
She nodded wordlessly, clutching her bag as if it might vanish if she let go. I waited until she disappeared down the hallway before heading to the bar.
I poured myself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled in the glass. The scotch burnt as it went down, but it wasn't enough to dull the unease creeping into my chest. The note wasn't the work of amateurs. It was precise and deliberate. Whoever had left it knew enough about Mia to find her, to break into her apartment, and to shake her.
But why?
And more importantly, why now?
I tipped the glass back, draining it in one go, when I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind me.
Turning, I found Mia standing in the doorway. She had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, her damp hair falling over her shoulders as she'd just stepped out of the shower. There was a vulnerability to her I hadn't seen before, like the sharp edges she kept up were beginning to dull under the weight of the day.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted quietly.
I nodded toward the couch. "Sit."
She hesitated but eventually crossed the room, perching on the edge of the leather sofa. I leaned against the bar, watching her as she twisted her fingers in her lap.
"You're scared," I said, breaking the silence.
Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, a spark of defiance flashing there. "Of course, I'm scared. Someone broke into my apartment and left a death threat. Wouldn't you be?"
I smirked, though there was no humour in it. "I don't scare easily."
She frowned, her frustration evident. "Must be nice."
"It's survival," I replied evenly. "Fear makes you weak. It clouds your judgement and makes you reckless. If you want to survive, you can't let it control you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought she'd argue. Instead, she looked away, her shoulders slumping slightly.
"I didn't ask for any of this," she muttered.
"No one ever does," I said, my voice softer than I intended.
Her head snapped back to me, surprise flickering across her face. I sighed, running a hand through my hair before pushing off the bar and walking toward her.
"Mia, this world…" I gestured vaguely. "It doesn't care what you want. It will chew you up and spit you out without a second thought. The only way to survive is to fight back."
She swallowed hard, her throat working against the weight of my words. "And what if I don't know how to fight back?"
"Then you learn," I said, stepping closer.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the space between us charged with something I couldn't quite name. Her eyes searched mine, as though trying to figure me out, to see past the mask I wore so carefully.
I should have stepped back, should have turned away, but instead, I found myself moving closer. Her breath hitched as I leaned down, her lips parting slightly in surprise.
"Ryan—"
The sound of my name on her lips broke something loose in me. I cupped her jaw with one hand, the other bracing on the back of the couch as I closed the distance between us.
Our lips met, soft and tentative at first, but the spark that ignited between us was impossible to ignore. Her hands found their way to my chest, hesitating for only a second before gripping the fabric of my shirt.
I deepened the kiss, my fingers tangling in her hair as I tilted her head to get a better angle. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, and it was all I could do to keep from losing control completely.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
"This is a bad idea," I said, my voice low and rough.
"Probably," she agreed, her fingers still clutching my shirt.
But neither of us moved. Instead, I kissed her again, this time with less hesitation and less restraint. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I pulled her closer, my hands sliding down to grip her waist.
It wasn't until I felt the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips that I forced myself to stop, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from the kiss, and her eyes…
Her eyes were a storm of emotions—fear, desire, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite name.
"I shouldn't have done that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mia's lips parted, but before she could speak, my phone buzzed loudly on the bar. The sound shattered the moment, snapping both of us back to reality.
I stepped away, running a hand through my hair as I grabbed the phone. The number on the screen made my stomach drop.
"What is it?" Mia asked, her voice still shaky.
I glanced at her, then back at the phone. "Stay here," I ordered, my tone leaving no room for argument.
I stepped out onto the balcony, answering the call with a clipped, "What?"
The voice on the other end was familiar, but the message was anything but welcome.
"They've moved," the caller said. "And they're not just targeting you anymore."
"What do you mean?" I demanded, my grip tightening on the phone.
"I mean, they've got someone else in their sights. Someone close to you."
My heart sank as the pieces clicked into place.
Mia. I'm meant to make her pay for her father's sins, but the more I spend time with her, the more I get attached.
I ended the call abruptly, my mind racing. I turned to find her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched me with wary eyes.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice barely concealing her fear.
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my hand gripping her arm with just enough force to keep her from pulling away.
"We're not safe here," I said, my voice firm. "We need to leave. Now."
Her eyes widened, but before she could protest, a loud crash echoed from somewhere below us, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
Someone was here.
And they weren't friendly.