Ryan sat in the study, a cup of coffee on the desk already gone cold. The window beside him was half open, letting in the faint sound of rain from outside, but he barely noticed. His thoughts kept drifting back to the same place they had been since morning, his mind kept circling back to Marcus.
Kane stood in front of him, speaking in that steady, careful tone he always used when it came to updates.
"The apartment is ready," he said. "We found one close to the restaurant like you wanted. We furnished it lightly, nothing that draws attention. Simple stuff, bed, couch, a table. Enough to look like someone actually lives there."
Ryan nodded slowly, still staring at the surface of his coffee. The liquid was dark and still, like it had been sitting there for hours. "Alright," he said. "I'll check it out later."
After that night Marcus took him out on a date, he had felt the sudden need to have an apartment close to the restaurant in preparation for the next time they would go out together again, so that when Marcus offered to drop him home, he'll have somewhere to bring him.
So he told Kane and Matt to find a place close to the restaurant, somewhere simple, somewhere that could look like home if Marcus ever asked again. He gave them specific instructions. It had to be within walking distance of the restaurant. It had to look lived in and look like something an ordinary server could afford.
It had been days since that voice message. Ryan had listened to it too many times, memorized the sound of Marcus's breathing between words.
He had sounded nervous, almost apologetic, but his drunk voice was sweet. There was something raw about it, something vulnerable that Marcus would probably never say sober. Ryan had replayed it so many times he could hear it even when his phone wasn't in his hand.
Ryan hadn't replied. He didn't know how to. Every time he tried to write something, it felt wrong. It felt too casual, too formal, too much or not enough. He had typed out responses and deleted them almost immediately.
'It's okay' sounded dismissive. 'Don't worry about it' felt cold. 'I liked hearing from you' was too honest, too revealing.
He had deleted every message before sending it.
Now, with the silence stretching longer, he didn't know what Marcus must be thinking. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he regretted sending the message at all and was hoping Ryan would just forget about it.
Or maybe he thought Ryan had ignored him on purpose and he was hurt by the silence. The thought made Ryan's chest tighten in a way he didn't want to acknowledge. He hated the idea that Marcus might be sitting somewhere thinking Ryan didn't care, that the message hadn't mattered.
He rubbed the side of his neck slowly, trying to focus on something else. The tension there was familiar, the kind that came from too many sleepless nights and too much thinking.
Matt walked in just then, placing a thick folder on the table with a dull thud. The sound was loud in the quiet room. "I've gone through the reports," he said, his tone instantly pulling Ryan back to the grim reality of his life.
"The Casino under Jasper's control is tighter than before. His men are guarding the entrances all night. One of the rebel leaders is running that branch, making it difficult to penetrate. They're checking IDs, watching everyone who comes in and out. It's not going to be easy."
Ryan turned slightly in his chair, pushing Marcus's thoughts to the back of his mind with a practiced ease. It was something he had gotten good at over the years, compartmentalizing, putting things in boxes so he could focus on what needed to be done. "So you confirmed the security?"
"Yes," Matt said, flipping through a few pages in the folder. "If we want to interfere, we'll need more people inside. The usual routes won't work this time. They've changed the shift rotations, added cameras in places we used to use. We're going to have to be smarter about this."
Ryan nodded, accepting the new complication. It wasn't the first time they'd hit a wall, and it wouldn't be the last. "We'll wait for now. Watch them, don't touch them. We need to know their pattern before we move. Get someone to track the shifts for the next two weeks, I want to know when they're weakest."
Matt gave a small sound of agreement and opened the folder again, explaining something about the new shipment lines and the intercepted codes. He pointed to a map, tracing routes with his finger, talking about checkpoints and potential weaknesses. Ryan listened at first, nodding when appropriate, asking a question or two, but his mind began to drift.
The rain outside was louder now, steady against the roof, filling the room with a dull rhythm. The warmth of the coffee had long gone, and the air felt cooler.
He thought again of Marcus. Of how quiet it had been between them lately. Of the message that had said everything and nothing at the same time, leaving the air between them thick with unsaid things.
He wondered what Marcus was doing right now. If he was at work, if he was thinking about Ryan too, or if he had moved on and forgotten about the whole thing.
He wondered if Marcus had expected a reply that night. He wondered if he had waited, staring at his phone screen, just as Ryan had done.
Maybe he had fallen asleep with the phone in his hand, hoping to see a notification. Maybe he had checked it first thing in the morning, and when there was nothing, maybe he had felt disappointed. Or relieved. Ryan didn't know which would be worse.
Matt was still speaking when Ryan's phone vibrated lightly on the desk. The sound was soft but clear enough to pull his attention.
He picked it up, expecting a confirmation from one of their men, or perhaps Marcus finally texting him again, a cool, simple message to cover the awkwardness. But the number was unfamiliar, an external line. Not one saved in his contacts.
He opened the message without much thought.
*Hi, I'm Marcus's friend Ethan. Marcus was in an accident yesterday night…. Come to St. Claire's Hospital.*
The words didn't register at first. He read them once, his eyes moving over the letters but not really seeing them. Then he read them again, slower this time, trying to make sense of what they said. Then, slowly, the meaning sank in.
Marcus.
Accident.
Hospital.
The air in the room seemed to thin. His chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it. His hands went cold.
Matt noticed the change in his expression and stopped mid-sentence. "What is it?"
Ryan's hand tightened slightly around the phone. The screen felt hot against his palm. "Marcus," he said quietly. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, too flat, too controlled.
Matt frowned, confused. "Who?"
Ryan didn't answer. He was already standing, his chair sliding back against the floor with a scraping sound. His mind was racing, trying to piece together what little information he had. An accident. Yesterday night. That meant Marcus had been hurt for hours already, and Ryan hadn't known. Hadn't been there.
Matt looked at him, his confusion turning into concern. He set the folder down and took a step closer. "Ryan, what happened?"
Ryan took a step toward the door. "He's in the hospital," he said, his voice low. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, loud and unsteady.
"Who is?"
Ryan didn't look up. He was already moving, his body on autopilot. "Someone I know."
He reached for the keys on the table. His pulse was unsteady, his thoughts a blur. He had seen too many people hurt before, seen blood and bodies and chaos. He had stood in rooms where people died and not flinched. But none of that felt like this. This was different.
This was Marcus.
He moved quickly toward the door, not hearing the rest of what Matt was saying.
"Ryan," Matt called again, louder this time. "What's going on?"
Ryan stopped at the door, his hand on the handle. He didn't turn around. "I'll be back," he said, almost to himself.
And then he was gone.
Matt stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, the folder still in his hands. Kane looked up from where he'd been standing silently in the corner, his eyebrows raised in question.
"What just happened?" Kane asked.
Matt shook his head slowly.
"I have no idea."