"Two hours!"
Dann said, leaning against the wall in the mansion's private study.
"Boss got everything back in two hours."
Matt sat in one of the leather chairs near the window, arms crossed. "Not just our goods either. Three other shipments Darkwater had stolen from smaller operations. All of it."
"And he went alone," Kane added from his post by the door. His voice was quieter. Feeling proud. "Told us not to follow him."
Dann let out a low whistle. "Darkwater had what, around fifteen guys guarding that warehouse? How'd he even do that alone?!"
"Who knows..." Matt cut him off. "We don't need to know. He handled it. That's what matters."
Kane shifted. "He always handles it perfectly."
There was something in Kane's tone. Not just fear, not just respect. Something in between. The way someone talks about a force they've learned to look up to from a distance.
Matt checked his watch. "It's almost eleven. He's still not up?"
"Haven't seen him come down," Dann said.
"Strange. He never sleeps this late." Matt stood. "Kane, come with me. Dann, make sure breakfast stays warm."
"Yes, sir."
Matt and Kane left the study and climbed the curved staircase. Their steps were soft on the thick carpet. The hallway stretched long and silent.
They stopped outside Ryan's door.
Matt knocked. "Ryan. You awake?"
No answer.
Kane knocked louder. "Boss. Breakfast is ready."
Still nothing.
Matt tried the handle. It turned easily. The door opened.
The room was dark. Heavy curtains blocked the sun. Ryan lay buried under the blankets, only his dark hair visible.
"Ryan," Matt said, louder this time.
A groan came from the bed. "Go away," Ryan's voice was muffled, rough with sleep.
"It's eleven," Matt said. "You never sleep this late."
He crossed the room and pulled the curtains open. Sunlight flooded in. Ryan made a low sound of protest and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Come on," Matt said. "Breakfast is ready."
"Not hungry."
"You have to eat." Matt pulled the blanket down just enough to see his face. "Are you okay?"
Ryan blinked at the light. His hair was a mess. Dark circles under his eyes. But there was something else too. Something distant, almost soft.
Last night came back to him. The dinner. The walk. The kiss.
God, the kiss.
His phone buzzed beside him.
Marcus: Morning. Dreamed about you.
Ryan's chest tightened. A smile crept onto his lips before he could stop it.
Ryan: Yeah?
Marcus: Yeah. Good dreams. When can I see you?
Ryan: I'll let you know. Need to handle some things today.
Marcus: Okay. But don't make me wait too long.
Ryan set the phone down, aware of Matt watching him. He sat up. "Give me fifteen minutes."
"Alright. We'll wait downstairs." Matt turned to leave, then paused. "And Ryan, we need to talk. After breakfast."
Ryan's stomach tightened. "About what?"
"Later." Matt left, Kane following behind him.
Ryan stared at the door long after it closed.
He sighed, stood up, and went through the motions. Shower, clothes, hair.
Marcus's jacket from last night hung over a chair. Ryan picked it up, held it for a moment, then carefully hung it in his closet.
By the time he came downstairs, Matt, Dann, and Kane were already seated in the dining room. Plates of food filled the long table. Eggs, toast, bacon, fruit, coffee. Everything smelled warm and safe, a strange contrast to the silence.
Ryan sat at the head of the table. Picked up his fork. They ate quietly, only the sound of cutlery between them.
Halfway through his meal, Ryan spoke without looking up. "It's been a while since I've seen James. Where is he?"
The question made Kane's hand pause halfway to his mouth.
James, the man who'd knelt and begged for mercy at the bar — hadn't been seen since that night.
"He's… still in the hospital," Kane said after a beat. "His arm and legs are still recovering."
Ryan's fork stopped mid-air. "Recovering? What happened to him?"
The table went still.
For a moment, no one breathed. Then Dann's spoon slipped from his fingers and clattered against the plate. The sound was sharp in the quiet.
He flinched, eyes wide. "S-sorry, boss."
Ryan looked between them, confusion on his face. "Did I miss something?"
Matt looked at Ryan, then at Kane.
Kane swallowed hard. "He... uh, he fell. Slipped near the loading area. Bad landing." His words came out uneven, like each one hurt to say.
Ryan blinked, trying to picture it. "Fell?" He frowned slightly, then let out a small sigh. "Alright. We should probably visit him later.."
Kane nodded quickly. "Yes, boss."
Dann followed the motion, his shoulders still tight.
The rest of the meal continued in silence.
Kane finished first. "I should check the warehouse."
"Go ahead," Ryan said.
Kane and Dann left. The front door closed behind them.
Matt set down his cup. "Let's talk in the study."
Ryan followed. The smaller room was lined with dark wood and books his father had collected but never read.
Matt shut the door.
They sat across from each other. For a long moment, no one spoke.
"How long have I known you?" Matt asked finally.
"Since I was seven?"
"And in all that time, have I ever lied to you?"
"I don't think so."
"Then hear me out." Matt leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This friend of yours. The one who keeps you smiling at your phone."
Ryan's features hardened for a second. "What about him?"
"You see… I'm glad you have someone," Matt said, carefully and honestly. "You've never had a friend outside this life, so I thought it might be good for you. A little normal."
"But?"
"But I'm worried it's becoming a distraction."
He chose his words slowly. "You're getting attached. I can see it. The way you check your phone. The way you vanished the other night. The way you're sleeping in."
"I can handle it."
"I'm not questioning your strength. I'm questioning what this could cost you."
Ryan frowned. "You think a few messages will ruin me?"
"I think attachments ruin men like us," Matt said quietly. "They make us hesitate. Make us think about things we shouldn't."
Ryan said nothing.
"The mission," Matt continued. "Finding the ones who killed your parents. We've worked ten years for that. We're close now. Closer than ever."
"I haven't forgotten the things I have to do."
"I know." Matt's tone softened. "But relationships change you. They change what you're willing to risk."
He paused. Looked down. When he spoke again, his voice had something in it Ryan had never heard before. Grief.
"I saw it happen once," Matt said. "Your father... he was a lot like you. Focused. Sharp. Then he met her. He thought she was different, thought she saw the real him."
He swallowed hard. "But she was a spy. Fed everything she learned to our enemies. The night they found out, we lost seventeen men. Seventeen, Ryan. All because your father hesitated to see the truth."
Ryan's chest tightened. He knew stories like that were common, but he never knew it happened to his father too.
"I was there," Matt said quietly. "I buried half of them myself. And your father... he never recovered. So when I see you walking down the same road..."
He looked up, eyes steady. "I can't just watch."
Ryan's throat felt dry. He wanted to defend Marcus. To say Marcus wasn't like that. That he doesn't even know Ryan's real identity yet.
But the words wouldn't come. Because what if Matt was right?
He looked away. "I can handle it," he said again, but his voice didn't sound sure this time.
Matt stood. "I hope so. Because in this life, hesitation doesn't just get you killed. It gets everyone around you killed."
He left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Ryan sat there in silence.
The sound of the clock ticked somewhere behind him. Each second felt too loud.
He looked down at his phone. Marcus's name still lit the screen.
For a moment, his thumb hovered over the message thread.
He could delete it. End it now.
That would be the smart move. The safe move.
But he didn't.
Instead, he locked the phone, set it facedown, and leaned back in the chair.
The sunlight from the window reached across the desk, warm against his hand.
And it hurt, somehow, to realize even warmth could feel dangerous.