Ryan's POV
The night stretched on, but Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He'd been through countless situations like this before—cleaning up messes, dealing with the aftermath—but tonight, it felt different. The way Noah had looked at him, with that sharp gaze, made him feel like the hunter for the first time in a long while. Usually, he was the one pulling the strings from the shadows, controlling the narrative. But Noah? Noah was the wild card.
Ryan walked through the alleyways near the crime scene, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the cool night air hitting his skin like a reminder of how far he'd come. The city was alive, even in its darkest corners. He could hear the distant hum of traffic, the murmur of conversations, the occasional siren in the distance. But none of that mattered. What mattered now was how close Noah was getting to the truth. How close he was getting to Ryan.
Noah Thompson had a way of making people uncomfortable. It wasn't just his eyes—piercing and perceptive—it was his quiet confidence, like he could see through the bullshit. It was almost as if Noah knew that Ryan wasn't just some guy on the street. He was someone dangerous, someone not to be trifled with.
The feeling in Ryan's gut grew stronger. He couldn't afford to let Noah keep digging. Sooner or later, the reporter would uncover something he shouldn't. And when that happened, Ryan would have to make sure Noah was on his side... or silenced.
---
Noah's POV
Noah's mind raced as he left the crime scene. He could still see Ryan's face in his mind's eye—cold, calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey. There was something about him that felt... wrong. He wasn't just there to observe the aftermath. Noah had seen that look before—he had seen it in the eyes of men who ran the show, men who controlled everything and everyone around them.
But Ryan wasn't the only thing on his mind. The victim, the scene, the small clues that didn't quite add up—Noah couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on here than just a random mafia hit. His instincts told him this was personal. Whoever had left that body knew exactly what they were doing.
As he walked toward his car, the streetlights flickering above him, Noah couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. He was in over his head. But Noah wasn't the kind of person to back down. He had a job to do. And if that job meant getting tangled up in a world of violence and danger, then so be it.
He slid into the driver's seat of his car, starting the engine. As he pulled away from the scene, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The familiar notification made him frown.
New Message from Alex.
Noah hesitated for a moment before opening the message.
"Be careful, Noah. Don't dig too deep into this one. Some things are better left alone."
Noah stared at the message, a feeling of unease creeping into his chest. Alex had always been protective of him, but this was different. It wasn't like Alex to warn him off. Noah set the phone down and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
He had no intention of backing down. Not this time.
Noah's mind was preoccupied with one thing Ryan words from the previous night echoed in his mind. "Some truths are better left buried." That remark had left a mark on him.
---
Ryan's POV
The next day, Ryan's mind was preoccupied with one thing: Noah Thompson. Ryan had underestimated how quickly Noah would catch on. It was a risky game, but Ryan was used to playing dangerous ones.
The office was quiet when Ryan entered, the hum of the fluorescent lights above and the faint tapping of keyboards filling the silence. He walked past the rows of desks, ignoring the occasional nod from his employees. His right-hand man, Leo, was already sitting in his office, awaiting him.
"Morning, boss," Leo said, looking up from the documents in front of him.
Ryan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a seat behind his desk, his fingers tapping on the wood.
"We need to get rid of the body," Ryan said, his voice low and measured.
Leo nodded, accustomed to Ryan's cold demeanor. "Already in progress. The cleanup crew's on it. It'll be gone before the cops can trace anything."
Ryan leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the window. "Good. But I want more. I want Noah Thompson to stay away from this case."
Leo raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ryan. "You want me to take care of him?"
"No," Ryan said, his eyes narrowing. "Not yet. I need him to think he's safe. But I need him distracted. If he keeps digging, he'll find something. We can't afford that."
Leo understood immediately. "I'll handle it. I'll make sure he doesn't get too close."
Ryan stood and walked toward the door, his thoughts consumed with the reporter. Noah was dangerous, but Ryan wasn't worried. He could play this game. And when the time came, he'd have Noah exactly where he wanted him.
---
Noah's POV
The next few days were a blur of meetings, phone calls, and more digging into the case. Noah couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan Asher was watching him, even when he couldn't see him. It was as if the man knew exactly what Noah was doing at all times. That was the part that unsettled him the most—the way Ryan seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
The story was coming together, but not in the way Noah had hoped. Each new lead took him deeper into a world of organized crime, of power plays and violence, things he hadn't fully understood until now. And through it all, Ryan remained an enigma.
Noah found himself back at the scene of the crime once more, standing near the yellow tape, his mind racing. There were too many unanswered questions, too many gaps. But the answers... the answers were slipping through his fingers.
He glanced up, and that's when he saw him. Ryan. Standing on the opposite side of the street, leaning against a black car. His gaze was fixed on Noah, the same cold expression as the last time they'd met. This time, though, Noah didn't look away. He didn't feel the need to.
For a moment, the two men locked eyes across the distance, a silent understanding passing between them. Ryan's lips twitched, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Noah didn't know what that smile meant, but he knew one thing for sure.
This wasn't over.
---