Deborah's POV
I sat across the small table from Ryan, close enough that our knees almost touched, despite us sitting face-to-face.
The tight space between us added a strange tension to the air, as if pulling us subtly closer.
"Your necklace…" Ryan's eyes lingered on the odd stone around my neck. He paused, his expression a mix of confusion and faint distaste. "It doesn't really suit your style today."
I let my fingers drift up to the cool stone, feeling its texture beneath my fingertips.
It was the same one that a mysterious woman had given me back in Tirnanog.
"But you look really hot today," Ryan continued, his gaze now sliding back to my face, filled with a greedy sort of appreciation. "You seem… different from before."
"Yeah, some things are better kept under wraps, aren't they?" I smiled lightly, keeping my tone elusive. "If we want to keep Erius Institute operating, we have to be discreet."
He seemed to catch my drift, a sly smile curving his lips, laden with hidden meaning.
"And you?" I asked, feigning casual curiosity. "I heard you've been doing quite well at the FDB."
Ryan was a seasoned player, that much was clear.
His smile broadened as he leaned back, folding his hands together on the table.
"Oh, it's not much—just the usual duties. Keeping Murias in order, guarding the checkpoints to the surface… just routine stuff." He shrugged, as if his job were the dullest thing in the world.
He lowered his head and glanced at the wine in his hand, a slight smile appearing on his face.
In that very instant, I caught a glimpse of his thoughts: [Oh babe, aren't I amazing? Do you admire me?]
"I see," I said, holding his gaze with a look of feigned admiration. "That sounds challenging. It must be an honor to work at the FDB."
He relaxed a little, soaking in the compliment. "Of course, the FDB is the protector of Murias. We don't just maintain order; we ensure that the secrets of the surface stay hidden. Things are… complicated up there."
"Is that so?" I tilted my head, widening my eyes just a bit. "It sounds like you guys carry a lot of responsibility."
He seemed even more pleased by my response, a hint of arrogance creeping into his voice. "Oh, definitely. Especially for a department like ours that controls all the surface access points. We used to have a Colonel, Joseph Miller—a brilliant man—but unfortunately, he died on the job."
"Dropped dead?" I echoed, forcing genuine surprise into my tone. That sounded suspicious.
"Yeah, after that, Peter Cox took over as the new Colonel," Ryan said, nonchalantly.
Peter Cox?
The name instantly made me think of Cora.
Could he be related to her?
I held back further questions, letting the conversation flow naturally, though I mentally filed away every name and detail he let slip. As our talk progressed, it became clear that Ryan knew how to keep himself in check, never revealing too much. He was sly like a fox, quick to evade every trap I set.
Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air behind me, a wave of tension sweeping through the room.
I turned and saw Matthew standing at the entrance, his face clouded with anger and something else—something raw and protective.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely startled.
He didn't look at me. His gaze was fixed solely on Ryan, eyes blazing. "Are you bothering her?"
Ryan blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment.
But then he recovered, a mocking smile tugging at his lips as he leaned back leisurely, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Bothering? You've got it all wrong, slave. We're just getting to know each other, preparing for the future… you know what I mean?"
My jaw clenched.
What a self-important jerk.
But then came that last word—"slave." The deliberate insult hung in the air, aimed like a poisoned arrow at Matthew.
Matthew's expression darkened, his fury rolling off him in palpable waves. He stepped forward and grabbed Ryan by the collar, yanking him to his feet with shocking force. "Say that again, I dare you."
I scrambled up from my seat, following them outside as everyone in the bar turned to watch, wary but curious.
"Stop it! What do you think you're doing?" I pushed my way between them, glaring up at Matthew. He froze, staring down at me, his eyes wide with pain and confusion—like a wounded puppy that didn't understand why it was being hurt.
"Didn't you see what he was trying to do?" he shot back, his voice low and edged with desperation. "He was—"
"I was talking to him, and he was being perfectly polite," I interrupted sharply, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You, on the other hand, are the one causing trouble."
I spoke loudly enough for Ryan to hear, making sure every word carried weight.
Matthew's unexpected appearance was a disaster, one that could sever this fragile connection I'd been trying to establish with Ryan all evening.
Ryan chuckled behind me, his tone taunting, "See? You're the one who's out of line here."
I turned back to Matthew, staring at him coldly. "I'm here to talk with Ryan, and I need you to leave. Now."
Matthew's face tightened.
He looked at me like I'd struck him, his gaze flickering between my eyes as if searching for some sign that I didn't mean it.
But I stood my ground, giving him nothing to hold onto.
"Go away," I repeated, my voice frigid.
Matthew's shoulders sagged slightly.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, struggling to control whatever emotion was churning inside him.
Finally, he took a step back, his eyes shadowed and hollow. "Your necklace… it suits you."
His voice was barely a whisper, a low murmur that felt almost like a farewell.
And then he turned and walked away, not looking back even once.