MIA
I stood frozen in the middle of my room, my breath coming in shallow pants as the weight of the note settled over me. The walls of my apartment seemed to close in, the quiet humming of the fridge now a taunting reminder that I was utterly alone.
The words on the note burnt in my mind: "You're next."
I couldn't stop the questions from racing through my head. Next for what? Who had been here? And how the hell had they gotten in?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I'd locked the door. I was certain of it.
The sharp knock on the door made me jump, a small yelp escaping before I could stifle it. My pulse spiked, and I grabbed my phone instinctively.
Another knock. This one is heavier and more deliberate.
"Mia", Ryan's voice came through the door, low and commanding. "Open the door."
I wobbled toward it, my hands and body shaking as I fumbled with the locks. When I finally managed to pull it open, Ryan was standing there, his presence filling the doorway like a storm cloud. His sharp blue eyes scanned me, then darted behind me, sweeping the apartment.
"Show me," he said curtly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
I didn't argue. My fingers were still trembling as I pointed toward the note lying on my bed. Ryan moved swiftly, his long strides eating up the space between us. He picked up the envelope, his jaw tightening as he read the words.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, crumpling the note in his fist.
"Do you know who sent it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan didn't answer immediately. He turned to me, his gaze heavy with something I couldn't quite read.
"This isn't random," he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. "Whoever left this wanted to send a message—to you and me."
"To you?" My stomach twisted. "What does this have to do with you?"
"Everything", he said again, his tone clipped. "I warned you, Mia. Some people don't follow the rules, and now they've made their move."
A sudden realisation settled over me. "You knew this might happen, didn't you? That's why you told me to lock my doors."
Ryan didn't deny it. His silence was answer enough.
Anger flared in my chest, cutting through the fear. "You knew I was in danger, and you didn't tell me? What the hell, Ryan? I deserved to know!"
His eyes hardened. "If I thought for a second that you weren't safe, I wouldn't have let you come back here. I'm handling this."
"Handling it?" I scoffed, gesturing toward the bed. "This doesn't look like it's being handled! Someone broke into my home, ransacked everywhere and left a threat on my pillow!"
Ryan's jaw clenched, but he didn't snap back. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. "Mia, listen to me. Whoever did this wants you scared, wants you to panic. Don't give them that satisfaction. I will find out who's behind this, and I will deal with them. But you need to trust me."
Trust him? The man who had been nothing but cryptic since the moment I met him? The man who had secrets I couldn't begin to understand?
"I don't know if I can," I admitted, my voice trembling.
Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. "You don't have a choice."
His words stung, but they were true. As much as I hated the idea, Ryan was the only one who could protect me now.
"Fine," I said reluctantly. "What happens now?"
"You're not staying here," he said firmly. "Pack a bag. You're coming with me now."
"What?" I stared at him, incredulous. "I can't just leave my apartment!"
"You can, and you will," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "It's not safe here, Mia. You're coming to my place, and that's final."
His place? The thought of being under Ryan's roof—of being that close to him—sent a ripple of unease through me. But when I looked at the note again, the jagged handwriting like a scream in the quiet of my room, I knew he was right.
"Fine," I said again, grabbing a duffel bag from my closet. "But I'm not staying long."
Ryan didn't respond at all, he just stood silently as I tossed clothes into the bag, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk watching its prey.
The drive to Ryan's penthouse was a blur. I sat silently in the passenger seat of his car, watching the city lights streak past as he navigated the streets with the same precision he seemed to apply to everything in his life.
When we arrived, I couldn't help but gape at the towering building. The penthouse was as cold and immaculate as his office, every piece of furniture sleek and modern, every surface spotless.
"This is where you live?" I asked, setting my bag down near the door.
"Problem?" he asked, arching a brow.
"No, it's just…" I trailed off, unsure how to explain the stark difference between my cramped apartment and this palace in the sky.
Ryan gestured toward the hallway. "You can use the guest room. The second door is on the right. Bathroom's attached."
I nodded, picking up my bag and heading in the direction he'd indicated. The room was as pristine as the rest of the penthouse, but it felt oddly impersonal, like no one had ever actually used it.
As I unpacked, my mind raced. The note. The break-in. Ryan's cryptic warnings. It was all too much, too fast.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Ryan leaning against the frame, his expression unreadable.
"Get some sleep," he said. "We'll talk more in the morning."
I nodded, but as he turned to leave, I couldn't stop myself.
"Ryan?"
He paused, looking back at me.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice small. "Why are you helping me?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. When he finally did, his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it.
"I'm not helping you; the debt is yet to be paid in full; hence, nothing can happen to you. Don't start feeling special; I am the only one in this world permitted to take your life."