A few days later…
Ryan was discharged from the hospital, his face calm but his mind restless, hinting at underlying tension that keeps readers curious.
Aria stayed right beside him, watching him closely with worry, as if she didn’t trust the world around him anymore, wanting him to feel her concern.
As soon as they stepped inside their home, Aria turned to him with a serious look. “No stress. No work. You need rest,” she said, her voice firm with concern.
Ryan raised a brow, slightly amused. “And since when do you give me orders?”
Aria didn’t hesitate. “Since you almost got yourself killed.”
He smirked and didn’t argue.
She helped him upstairs, careful with every step. In the bathroom, steam filled the air as the shower ran. Aria stayed with him—gentle, patient, and helping him without making it obvious.
Ryan watched her quietly—the way she avoided his wounds, the way her touch softened every time he shifted.
“You worry too much,” he said.
Aria paused, then looked at him. “And you don’t worry enough.”
Silence followed, then a small smile touched his lips.
Minutes later, he was dressed—fresh, clean, and dangerous as ever. He walked past the bedroom.
Aria frowned. “Ryan.”
He didn’t stop. “I have work.”
Her eyes narrowed instantly. “Oh no, you don’t.” She followed him. “You just got out of the hospital. You need to rest.”
Ryan opened his office door. “I need control,” He said coldly, his tone revealing his desire for stability and safety, which the audience should feel as urgent.
Aria stepped in after him. “You can control things later. Right now, you need to sit down and breathe.”
“I said I’m working,” he cut in. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried weight—the kind that made people step back.
Aria didn’t. She crossed her arms. “And I said you’re not overworking yourself. Not today.”
Ryan looked at her. Really looked at her. “And what if I don’t listen?”
Aria held his gaze. “Then I’ll sit here and annoy you until you do.”
A pause. Then—a faint smirk appeared on his lips.
A knock interrupted them, and the door opened. One of his men walked in, serious and tense.
“Sir.”
Ryan’s expression changed instantly back to cold. “What is it?”
The man hesitated. “After questioning the men we caught…”
Ryan’s eyes darkened. “Speak.”
“They confessed.” Silence filled the room. “…your cousin Justin is behind the attack.”
The air shifted, heavy and cold. Ryan leaned back slowly in his chair, jaw tightening, revealing his vulnerability and the weight of the threat-something the audience should feel as personal and dangerous.
Aria stepped closer. “Ryan…”
He didn’t look at her yet. “He tried to kill me,” Ryan said calmly. Too calmly.
Aria’s expression hardened. “He failed. And he won’t get another chance.”
That made Ryan look at her. Their eyes locked.
Ryan stood up slowly. “No one touches what’s mine… and walks away.” His voice dropped, cold and final.
Aria didn’t step back. She moved closer instead, fearless. “Then don’t let him,” she said quietly. “But don’t forget… you’re still healing.”
Ryan stared at her, then reached for her hand—tight and possessive. “You stay close to me,” he said.
Aria smirked slightly. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
Afternoon🕛
Justin’s house was too quiet—the kind of silence that made thoughts louder. He paced the room back and forth, restless, his jaw tight and his mind racing.
Ryan was out. That was the problem. Not the hospital, not the attack—Ryan Carter was back on his feet. Alive. And that meant one thing: he was coming.
Justin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…” he muttered under his breath. He had planned everything—every move, every detail. And still, Ryan survived. Of course he did.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “Always one step ahead…”
Justin stopped pacing, his eyes darkening. If Ryan was alive, then this wasn’t over. Not even close. Because now, Ryan would hunt him—slowly, carefully, ruthlessly. Justin knew his cousin too well; Ryan didn’t rush revenge; he made it hurt. That thought alone sent a chill down his spine.
Justin exhaled sharply. “Think…”
His mind started running fast again. He needed leverage—something Ryan couldn’t ignore, something that would stop him or at least slow him down.
Justin’s steps slowed, then stopped completely. A thought crept in—dangerous and perfect. His lips slowly curled into a smile.
“Of course…”
Aria. Ryan’s weakness. The only person who could make him soft, the only person who could break his control.
Justin’s eyes lit up. “If I can’t beat him… I’ll break him.”
He walked toward the window, calmer now and focused. “She’s always around him…” he muttered. “Close. Protected… but not untouchable. Not to me.”
Justin grabbed his phone and dialled a number—the line connected.
“I have a job for you,” he said coldly. A pause. “No mistakes this time.” His grip tightened on the phone. “I want the girl. Aria.”
Silence. Then—
“Kidnap her.”
He ended the call without another word. No hesitation. No doubt.
Justin leaned back slightly, finally still and calm. Because now he had a plan, and Ryan was about to feel what it meant to lose control.