Grayson’s voice. Ryan fumbled with the deadbolt and the lock, his fingers clumsy with adrenaline. He pulled the door open, and Grayson stood there in the hallway, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. His hair was slightly messed up, like he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes swept over Ryan, checking for visible damage.
“I’m fine,” Ryan said, stepping back to let him in. “Just scared.”
Grayson moved into the apartment, and Ryan closed the door behind him, engaging both locks again. The space felt smaller with Grayson in it. He was taller than Ryan had registered before, broader through the shoulders. He moved with an ease that seemed at odds with his size, crossing to the window to look out through the curtains.
“Has anyone come by?” Grayson asked. “Knocked on the door, called out?”
“No. Just the text.” Ryan picked up his phone from the coffee table and pulled up the message again, even though Grayson had already seen the screenshot. “Do you think they’ll actually do something? Or is it just meant to scare me?”
Grayson turned away from the window. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping there. “I’m not willing to find out. We need to take this seriously.”
“So what do we do? Call the cops?”
“Eventually. But there are some things I need to handle first.” Grayson pulled out his own phone and typed something quickly. “I’m going to have some people watch the clinic tonight. Make sure no one tries anything.”
“What people? Your rescue team?”
“Something like that.” Grayson put his phone away and looked at Ryan properly for the first time since arriving. Some of the hardness in his expression softened. “Are you really okay? You look pale.”
Ryan let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, death threats will do that to a person. Really brings out my best features.”
The joke fell flat in the quiet apartment. Grayson crossed the distance between them in two strides and reached out, his hand cupping Ryan’s elbow. The touch was warm and grounding. Ryan hadn’t realized how cold his skin had gotten until Grayson’s palm pressed against it.
“You’re safe,” Grayson said. The certainty in his voice made Ryan want to believe him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
“You can’t promise that.” Ryan heard the tremor in his own voice and hated it. “You don't even know who these people are.”
“I know enough.” Something flickered across Grayson’s face, too fast for Ryan to identify. “The ring we raided was bigger than we expected. More organized. They’re not going to take the loss of those dogs lightly.”
Ryan’s stomach turned over. “So this is serious.”
“Yes.”
“Great. Fantastic. Love that for me.” Ryan pulled away from Grayson’s touch and ran both hands through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands. The small pain helped center him. “I’m just a vet tech. I give vaccines and clean kennels and trim nails. I didn’t sign up for organized crime.”
“You saved those dogs. That matters more than you realize.”
Ryan started pacing again. Six steps to the kitchen. Six steps back. His sneakers made soft squeaking sounds against the laminate floor. The apartment felt too small, too confined, like the walls were pressing in on him. He wrapped his arms around himself, fingers digging into his biceps.
“What if they come here?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “What if they know where I live? They had my phone number. That’s not exactly public information.” His voice pitched higher with each question. He hated how scared he sounded, how young and helpless. “They could be watching right now. They could be in the parking lot or in the stairwell or—”
“Ryan.” Grayson stepped into his path, forcing him to stop. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.” But his lungs felt tight, like someone had wrapped rubber bands around his ribs. The air came in short, quick gasps that did nothing to calm the panic building in his system. “This is me breathing. Fantastic breathing happening right now.”
Grayson’s hands settled on his shoulders. The weight of them was solid and real, cutting through the spiral of anxiety. “Look at me.”
Ryan forced himself to meet Grayson’s eyes. The amber color seemed darker now, almost bronze in the lamplight. Something moved in Grayson’s eyes, something Ryan couldn’t quite identify. A stillness that felt at odds with the situation. Like Grayson was completely, utterly calm despite everything happening.
“How are you so calm?” Ryan asked. “Someone just threatened me. Us. The clinic. And you’re acting like this is just another Tuesday.”
“I've dealt with worse.” Grayson’s thumbs rubbed small circles against Ryan’s shoulders through his shirt. “And I meant what I said. I’m going to handle this.”
“How?” Ryan’s voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How are you going to handle organized dog fighters? You’re a construction worker who does rescue on the side. These people are criminals. Actual criminals who hurt animals for money and apparently have no problem threatening people.”
“I have resources you don't know about.” Grayson’s expression shifted, something guarded sliding into place. “People who can help. People who owe me favors.”
“What kind of people?”
