Chapter 3

Ryan DeMarco's POV

  I paced back and forth in the living room, my nerves tight as I quickly looked at my phone.

  The call had dropped again.

  I had been trying to reach my informant in New York, but the connection kept cutting out.

  We had been talking earlier, but I hadn't understood half of what he was trying to say. Something about my mother's enemies . It was all jumbled .

  Frustration clawed at me, each unanswered ring adding to the growing tension in my chest. What the hell was going on?

  Just as I was about to toss my phone onto the couch in annoyance , the screen lit up. A call.

  I snapped it up instantly. " Ryan ," the voice said, barely a second after the line connected .

  "Talk to me," I mumbled , running my hand through my hair, still pacing .

  "It's about your mother's enemies , Ryan ," the voice continued, the extreme importance clear in every word. "You must act fast. The one they call the intelligent director is in New York as we speak."

  My heart skipped a beat. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, voice low, trying to steady myself.

  "Confirmed," the voice affirmed .

  Without wasting a second, I slammed my fist against the counter, already planning my next move.

  I reserved the earliest flight out of there, my mind racing.

  Before I knew it, I was on a plane headed straight to New York with my PA, James..

  **********

  Ryan's POV

  I checked into my hotel, my mind still racing from the flight.

  The urgent importance of my task burdened me greatly, yet I had to take a moment to clear my mind.

  I ventured into the fresh New York air, opting for a brief stroll around the block.

  The city buzzed with activity.. countless individuals , a cacophony of sounds.. yet my mind was adrift in its own reflections .

  While I walked by a local park, I noticed a mother and her child enjoying time together at the playground .

  The little boy was running around, laughing, full of energy, while the woman watched with an easy, protective smile.

  I didn't think much of it until, out of nowhere, the boy, maybe five or six, tossed his snack at me.

  The handful of mashed -up food hit my chest, and I stopped dead in my tracks , surprised by the sudden attack.

  "What the hell?" I mumbled , more confused than anything else.

  The boy didn't seem upset and just kept running, laughing. I shot a look at him, frowning as I wiped my shirt, still stunned by the unexpected attack.

  "Hey, kid, that's not funny."

  I was about to say more, but then I heard a voice.

  "Let him go," she said, sharp and protective.

  My head snapped up. And the sight of the woman who owned the voice caught my breath in my throat. There she was.

  It was her.. the same woman from that night. The one who had been running through my thoughts..

  But she didn't seem to remember me. She was too focused on her son, and I was nothing more than a stranger to her.. well of course, I was.

  She stepped forward, her way of standing seemed

  carry actions that protect against attack as she got between me and the boy, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  "Hey jerk, you got a problem with my son?"

  Jerk?

  I was still surprised, disappointed, and a little upset, my mind racing as I sized her up. Her eyes.. those same eyes.. didn't hold recognition. She didn't even move when she looked at me.

  "No problem," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "Just didn't expect to be hit with a sandwich ."

  She gave me a hard stare, her tone colder than I expected.

  "Well, maybe you should've watched where you were walking."

  Her words were sharp. I felt my pulse quicken , but I didn't respond right away. Instead, I quickly looked down at the boy, who was still giggling , unaware of the strange energy between his mother and me.

  The woman’s look flicked back to me, her eyes still aware and a little nervous, her protective gut feeling clear.

  "Just stay away from my son, okay?"

  She didn't say another word, just turned away, her hand gripping the little boy's as she began to walk off...

  **********

  As I walked into the hotel room, I was greeted by James, my right-hand man.

  His face was unemotional , like always, but I could see the tension in his eyes. "It's time," he said, his voice low, formal and polite .

  "We've got a location."

  I nodded , pushing the thoughts of that woman to the back of my mind. This wasn't the time for distractions .

  We left the hotel and got into the black SUV , the engine roaring to life as James drove through the city streets.

  The route was quiet, the kind of scary silence that always meant business. I knew we were heading to the location where my mother's enemies were supposed to be hiding.

  The word on the street was that this was the spot where everything would go down, and I couldn't afford to waste any more time.

  We pulled up to a rundown building somewhere away from the industrial part of the city.

  The air was thick with tension as James and I swapped a quick look.

  "Looks like the right place," I mumbled , scanning the area.

  But something didn't feel right.

  We stepped out of the SUV , carefully making our way toward the entrance. Every step felt heavier , like we were walking into a trap. And the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  I turned to James. "This feels off," I said, my hand deeply moving to the gun holstered at my side.

  Before he could respond, the silence was shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching , then the absolutely clear click of a gun being cocked .

  I froze .

  From behind the corner, more than two, but not a lot of men came out, all armed, all looking at us with intent.

  It was a set up.

  I didn't have time to think. Just as I reached for my weapon, a gunshot rang out.. loud, very loud.