The offer hung in the air between them. Ryan’s mind raced through the implications. Staying at Grayson’s apartment. Sleeping under the same roof. After everything that had happened today, the kiss at the café felt like it had occurred in a different lifetime. Like they'd been different people then, people who didn’t have to worry about threats and violence.
“I don't want to impose,” Ryan said, even though the thought of staying here alone made his stomach clench with fear.
“You’re not imposing. I’m offering.” Grayson moved toward him, stopping a few feet away. “Pack what you need for tomorrow. Work clothes, whatever else. We'll stop by in the morning so you can get ready.”
Ryan looked around his apartment. At the plants he kept forgetting to water and the stack of veterinary journals on the coffee table and the framed photo of him at graduation from vet tech school. Everything familiar and safe and normal. The idea of leaving it, even for one night, felt like admitting defeat. Like letting whoever sent that text win.
But the idea of staying here alone, jumping at every sound, waiting for another threat, or worse, felt impossible.
“Okay,” Ryan heard himself say. “Let me grab some things.”
He walked to his bedroom on legs that felt disconnected from his body. The room was small and cluttered, clothes draped over the chair in the corner and books stacked on the nightstand. He pulled a duffel bag from the closet and started throwing things into it. Clean scrubs for tomorrow. Underwear and socks. His toothbrush and deodorant from the bathroom. The motions were automatic, his hands moving while his brain struggled to process everything.
This morning he’d woken up excited about coffee with Grayson. Now he was packing a bag to hide at his apartment because violent criminals wanted their fighting dogs back. The whiplash of it made him feel dizzy.
“You almost ready?” Grayson’s voice came from the doorway.
Ryan zipped the duffel and turned around. “Yeah. This is so surreal. I feel like I’m in a movie or something. A really bad movie where the twink vet tech gets threatened by the mob.”
“This isn't the mob.” Grayson took the bag from him. “And you’re going to be fine.”
“You keep saying that.” Ryan followed him back to the living room. “How do you know? How can you possibly be sure?”
Grayson set the bag down and turned to face him. The lamplight cast shadows across his features, making him look older somehow. Harder. “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
The certainty in his voice sent something warm through Ryan’s system, cutting through the fear. He wanted to believe it. Wanted to trust that Grayson could actually protect him from whatever was coming. But the rational part of his brain kept insisting that one person, no matter how capable, couldn’t stand against an entire criminal organization.
Chapter Four
On the way to his truck, Grayson kept one hand at the small of Ryan’s back as they descended the apartment stairs. The contact was light, barely there, but it helped him track Ryan’s position without looking. His senses were already spreading outward into the parking lot, scanning for threats. The air smelled like cooling asphalt and someone's dryer sheets, ordinary evening scents that did nothing to ease the tension coiling through his muscles.
Ryan walked close enough that their arms brushed with each step. The tremor running through his smaller frame was barely perceptible, but Grayson caught it. His mate was terrified, trying to hide it behind jokes and sarcasm, and Grayson wanted to find whoever had sent that text and make them understand what happened when you threatened what belonged to him.
He couldn’t think like that. Not yet. Not when Ryan was this close, this vulnerable. The lion prowling under his skin wanted blood, wanted to hunt down the hyena shifters and tear them apart for daring to target someone under his protection. But Ryan didn’t know what he was, didn’t know about the world that existed alongside his normal human life, and Grayson needed to keep it that way for as long as possible.
The parking lot was empty except for the usual vehicles. Grayson scanned each shadow, each dark corner where someone might wait. Nothing moved. No unfamiliar scents lay beyond the normal human smells of this apartment complex. The hyenas hadn’t tracked Ryan here yet, but they would. They had his number, which meant they had ways of finding him.
Grayson unlocked his truck and tossed Ryan’s duffel into the back seat. Ryan climbed into the passenger side, pulling the door shut with more force than necessary. The sound echoed across the parking lot. Grayson slid behind the wheel and started the engine then pulled out his phone.
He needed to text Reese before they got on the road. His thumb moved across the screen quickly: Got a situation. Hyenas from the fighting ring are threatening the vet tech who treated the dogs. Taking him to the house. Need you and the others there.
The response came before he’d even pulled out of the parking space: How bad?
Death threats. They know where he works. Grayson typed with one hand while steering with the other, his attention split between the phone and the road ahead. Won't involve police. Too dangerous. We handle this ourselves.
On it, Reese replied. Malik and Colton are already here. We'll be ready.
Grayson pocketed his phone and continued driving. The streets were quiet, most people already home for the evening. Streetlights flickered on as darkness settled over the town. He took a route that avoided main roads, keeping to residential areas where he could watch for tails. The truck's mirrors showed nothing suspicious, but that didn’t mean they weren't being followed. Hyenas were cunning, patient when they needed to be.
“So…” Ryan said, breaking the silence. His voice came out higher than normal, strained around the edges. “Is your apartment far? Because I’m realizing I didn’t eat dinner and my blood sugar is probably tanking, which would explain why everything feels like a weird dream right now.”
“Twenty minutes.” Grayson glanced at him. Ryan had pulled his legs up onto the seat, knees drawn toward his body, making himself smaller. The position made him look younger, more fragile than he actually was. “There's food at the house. We'll get you something to eat.”
“The house.” Ryan turned to look at him, hair falling across his forehead. “Not apartment. You said house.”
Grayson had slipped. He kept his expression neutral as he turned onto another side street. “I rent a house with some roommates. It’s bigger than an apartment. More secure.”
“Roommates.” Ryan’s fingers picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “That’s going to be fun. 'Hey, everyone, meet Ryan. He's hiding from violent criminals. Pass the chips.'“
