Then, without asking, he scooped me back into his arms, the same as before. No hesitation. No effort.
A wall of heat and strength, carrying me back to bed.
“Thank… you,” I said before my breath caught as he laid me down and re-hooked the IV.
He adjusted the pillow behind my head in silence and pulled the blanket up as if it were routine, and his expression didn’t change. Stoic. Controlled. And I wondered if anything I said would make a dent. But I saw something flicker in the way his eyes moved, the way his jaw twitched, the way he hesitated a second longer than he needed to.
“Thanks,” I said again, quieter this time, meaning it.
Still, no reaction other than the faintest shift in his expression, not quite a frown, not quite a smile, before he turned and walked back to the chair in the corner.
And that was all I was getting. No smile, no thanks, no reassurance. Maybe, that was his version of care—stoicism wrapped in action.
Silence wasn’t something I could worry about. Not with the way my body ached, not with how heavy my limbs were getting. Thankfully, the younger guy—Robbie—appeared like a ghost,knocking and offering a quiet smile, holding out more medication.
I took them without protest, swallowing them with juice, the effort enough to make my eyes water. And then, I was sinking. Not into fear or doubt, but into the weightless haze of sleep, the only thing I could do with a body covered in bruises and a mind teetering on the edge of too much.
The last thing I saw was Rio, back in that chair, staring at me as if he could read my mind. I hoped that he couldn’t because then he’d see me for the man I’d become, and he’d kill me where I lay for millions of dollars.
I woke to voices. An argument, maybe. It filtered in through the fog of pain and meds, a muffled tension that made my skin crawl. I kept my eyes closed and tried to relax into the ache. Easier said than done.
“We need to talk,” Rio said, his voice low and rough.
“No one knows he’s here,” another voice shot back—Jamie, I thought. He sounded defensive, on edge. “You don’t get to decide what happens to him on your own.”
“Would be easy to make him disappear,” Rio said. Cold. Flat. Just logistics.
A job.
A third voice chimed in, softer and more measured, with a polished cadence that made me think of suits and control. The tall man. Kieran? Or something like that.
“If he has anything to do with Kessler, we need to know.”
There was a pause. Long. Heavy.
I had nothing to do with Kessler now—unless I counted trying to stay alive and away from him. I thought that part of my life was a bad dream I’d finally clawed my way out of. But hearing his name, hearing the doubt in their voices, it twisted inside me.
“And if he is, then we get the information we need, and if he’s a danger to Robbie, then I’ll kill him,” Rio added calmly.
I held my breath. My heart thudded hard in my chest, and I wondered if they could hear it—if the sound of my fear was loud enough to give me away. I stayed as still as I could and prayed the blanket would hide my shaking. The voices didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder.
“I knew him,” Jamie insisted, and I could hear the tension rising. “From way back when he was a stupid kid obsessed with gaming, same as me.”
“You knewsomeoneonline,” Rio snapped. “Youdon’t knowhim. You knew a handle, a screen, a fucking picture or whatever.”
“Avatar,” Jamie interjected.
“What the fuck ever, J. That’s not the same.”
The third voice—Killian—was sharp. “It doesn’t matter whoyou thinkhe is. If he is linked to Kessler’s LyricNight system and has information Kessler would kill to protect, then we need to find out.”
“Then, we need to fucking ask him,” Rio fired back.
“The LyricNight AI system is connected to human trafficking, tech siphoning, and that’s only what we’ve uncovered so far. So, we get answers,” Killian said. “And then if it turns out he’s involved with Kessler? You make a decision as to how we get rid of him.”
“And if he’s not?”
There was a pause, colder than the rest.
