Chapter 6
1219 Words
Chapter 6
"Whisper_119 went dark two years ago," she said carefully, neither confirming nor denying she knew anything about the identity. "Everyone knows that. Why are you still looking?"
"Because I need someone with those skills," Rhys said. "And because I don't believe Whisper_119 is really gone. I think they're just... dormant. Waiting for the right opportunity to resurface."
"And if you can't find Whisper_119? What then?"
Rhys smiled slightly. "Then I suppose I'd have to settle for someone who's merely competent rather than exceptional. Someone who could handle security systems, encrypted databases, financial records that people don't want found. Someone who understands how to navigate the dark web without leaving traces."
Ravyn pretended to consider this. "I might know a few things about computers. Basic stuff, you understand. Nothing fancy."
"Basic stuff," Rhys repeated, his tone making it clear he didn't believe her for a second. "Right. Well, why don't you come by my office in two days for an interview? If you can... please me... with your basic computer skills, I might have a position available. The pay would be substantial, and the work would be challenging."
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a business card, which he handed to her. The card was elegant in its simplicity—just his name, a phone number, and an address in the business district's most expensive tower.
"Think about it," he said. "I'm looking for someone who's smart, resourceful, and knows how to keep secrets. Someone who's loyal once they've committed to something. Someone who's been through enough to know the value of second chances."
Ravyn took the card, running her thumb over the embossed lettering. A job. Real work, with real pay. It could mean independence, the ability to support herself and Rhysand without depending on the Hawkins family for anything. It could mean freedom.
"I'll think about it," she said, tucking the card carefully into her small evening bag.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the fountain and the distant party noise. Ravyn found herself relaxing despite herself, despite the chaos of the evening, despite everything. There was something about Rhys Larsen that made her feel... seen. Not judged, not controlled, just acknowledged as a person rather than a problem to be managed.
"Ravyn—" Rhys began, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of running feet on the garden path.
A small figure burst around the hedge, moving with the reckless speed only a five-year-old could manage. The boy was dressed in an impeccable miniature suit, complete with a tiny tie that had come slightly askew. But the most striking feature was the white mask that covered the upper half of his face—simple, elegant, and completely concealing his identity.
"Dad!" the child called out, his voice bright with excitement as he spotted Rhys. "There you are! Granny's been looking everywhere for you. She says you promised to show her the garden fountain and then you disappeared!"
Rhys' entire demeanor shifted as the boy approached. The hard edges softened, and something warm and genuine replaced the calculated persona he'd been projecting. He stood, opening his arms as the child launched himself forward.
"I got distracted," Rhys said, catching the boy and lifting him effortlessly. "I'm sorry I worried Granny. We'll go find her right now."
The masked child turned his attention to Ravyn, his head tilting curiously. Even through the mask, she could feel him studying her with the intense focus children sometimes displayed when encountering something new and interesting.
"Hello," he said politely, his manners clearly well-rehearsed. "I'm sorry I interrupted. Dad's always telling me I need to remember my manners when adults are talking."
"That's quite all right," Ravyn said, something in her chest tightening at the sight of this small, masked child. "Your manners are perfect."
"Are you Dad's friend?" the boy asked directly. "He doesn't usually have friends at parties. He says most people at parties are boring."
"That's not quite what I said," Rhys interjected, though his lips twitched with amusement. "And yes, this is my friend. Her name is Ravyn."
"Like the bird?" the child asked with interest. "That's a pretty name. Birds are smart. Dad says ravens are one of the smartest birds. They can solve puzzles and remember faces."
"They certainly can," Ravyn agreed, charmed despite herself. "And what's your name?"
The boy glanced at his father, who gave a small nod of permission. "You can call me R," he said, clearly having given this answer many times before. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Ravyn."
Before she could respond, her phone began to ring. Ravyn pulled it from her bag, frowning at the unfamiliar number before recognizing it as Dante Archer's new cell. Her heart immediately began to race—Dante knew better than to call her unless it was an emergency.
"Excuse me," she said, standing quickly. "I need to take this."
She moved a few steps away, answering on the third ring. "Dante?"
"Ravyn, thank God." Dante's voice was tight with stress. "Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for an hour."
"I'm at my grandmother's party. What's wrong? What happened?"
"It's Rhysand," Dante said, and Ravyn's entire world narrowed to those three words. "He's at St. Catherine's Hospital. He had some kind of reaction to something—maybe food, maybe something else, they're still trying to figure it out. But Ravyn, the doctors are refusing to treat him without payment upfront. They're saying the initial examination alone is going to cost thousands, and without insurance..."
Ravyn felt ice flood through her veins. "How bad is he?"
"Bad enough that they brought him in by ambulance. He was having trouble breathing when I found him. The neighbor called me because she didn't know who else to contact. I got him to the hospital, but they're saying without payment they can only stabilize him, nothing more."
"I'm coming," Ravyn said, already moving toward the garden gate that would let her exit without going back through the party. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Stay with him. Don't let them do anything until I get there."
"Ravyn, about the money—"
"I'll figure it out," she said, though she had no idea how. "Just stay with him."
She ended the call and turned back to where Rhys stood with his son, both of them watching her with concern clear on their faces—at least, concern was clear on Rhys' face; the mask made reading the child's expression more difficult.
"I have to go," she said, her voice urgent now. "I'm sorry. Thank you for the evening, and for..." She gestured vaguely back toward the house. "For everything."
"What's wrong?" Rhys asked, setting his son down gently. "You look terrified."
"Family emergency," Ravyn said, already moving toward the gate. "I need to get to the hospital."
"Wait—" Rhys called after her, but she was already through the gate and running toward the street, praying she could find a taxi quickly.
Behind her, she heard the small voice of Rhys' son asking, "Is Miss Ravyn okay, Dad? She looked scared."
And Rhys' reply, quiet but clear in the evening air: "I don't know, R. But I think we should find out."
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