Chapter Three #2
Ryan started pacing. His apartment wasn't large enough for proper pacing, so he ended up walking the same six steps back and forth between the couch and the kitchen.
His mind spun through worst-case scenarios.
Someone breaking into the clinic at night.
Stealing the dogs back. Or worse, hurting them to send a message.
A knock at the door. “Ryan, it’s me.”
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?”
“The kind who can make sure you’re safe.” Grayson’s hands slid down Ryan’s arms and fell away. He pulled out his phone again, typing rapidly. “I’m putting protection on the clinic tonight. Extra security. If anyone tries to get near those dogs, they won't make it past the parking lot.”
Ryan watched him text, questions piling up in his mind. What kind of rescue organization had the resources for security teams? How did Grayson have access to people who could protect a veterinary clinic on a few hours' notice? The pieces didn’t fit together in any way that made sense.
“Grayson.” Ryan waited until he looked up from his phone. “What aren't you telling me?”
Something flickered across Grayson’s face. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, focusing on the far wall like it held answers. “There are things about the rescue work that I can’t explain. Not because I don't want to, but because it’s not safe for you to know.”
“Not safe.” Ryan laughed, the sound brittle and wrong. “Someone just sent me a death threat. I think we’re past safe.”
“This is different.” Grayson turned back to him, and the look in his eyes made Ryan’s breath catch. There was something there, something ancient and wild that didn’t match the man standing in his apartment. “Trust me when I say that some things are better left unknown. For your protection.”
Ryan wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers. But the set of Grayson’s shoulders and the weight in his voice told Ryan it would be useless. Whatever secrets Grayson was keeping, he wasn't going to share them. Not tonight.
“Fine.” Ryan resumed pacing, needing the movement to channel the anxiety still coursing through him. “So what do I do? Hide in my apartment? Call in sick to work? Never leave my house again?”
“You go to work tomorrow like normal.” Grayson pocketed his phone. “Act like nothing happened. My people will be watching, but you won't see them. If anyone approaches you, if anything feels wrong, you text me immediately. Don't try to handle it yourself.”
“Oh sure, because I was planning to take on violent criminals single-handedly.” Ryan heard the edge of hysteria in his voice and tried to rein it in.
His hands were shaking again. He shoved them in his pockets to hide it.
“I can’t believe this is happening. This morning I was worried about what to wear to coffee, and now I’m getting death threats. ”
“I’m sorry.” Grayson moved closer, and Ryan caught his scent.
Something woodsy and clean but, underneath it, something else.
Something he couldn’t quite place. Almost like the outdoors after rain, earth and grass and wild growing things.
“You got pulled into this because of me. Because I brought those dogs to your clinic.”
“Don't.” Ryan stopped pacing and faced him. “Don't apologize for saving them. Those dogs needed help, and you gave it to them. I’d do the same thing again.”
“Even knowing what it would cost you?”
Ryan thought about the pit bull’s wagging tail. The mastiff slowly learning to trust again. The male with the milky eye eating his food without fear. “Yes. Even knowing.”
Something in Grayson’s expression softened.
He reached out and tucked a strand of Ryan’s hair back from his face.
The gesture was so gentle, so at odds with the situation, that Ryan felt tears prick at his eyes.
He blinked them back furiously. Crying would not help.
Crying was the last thing he needed to do right now.
“I need you to promise me something,” Grayson said. His hand lingered near Ryan’s face, fingers barely brushing his jaw. “If anything happens, if you feel threatened at all, you run. You don't try to protect the dogs or the clinic or anyone else. You get somewhere safe and you call me. Understood?”
“I’m not going to just abandon—”
“Understood?” Grayson’s voice dropped lower. The sound of it raised goosebumps on Ryan’s arms. It wasn't threatening, exactly, but it carried a weight that demanded obedience.
“Fine. Yes. Understood.” Ryan pulled away from his touch, needing space to think. “But what about Dr. Sullivan? And Janet? They’re at the clinic too. If these people show up, they could get hurt.”