You Shouldn’t Be Here
1321 Words
Somewhere between last night and this morning, the confidence I had about going in today fades.
I tell myself I’m not going in. Three times.
In the elevator, I repeat it like a fact instead of a decision.
I’m not going in.
I’m not going in.
I’m not going in.
The doors open anyway.
And I step out.
Voss Global looks the same at first glance. Polished. Expensive. Controlled. The kind of building that makes people believe everything inside it is just money, paperwork, and ambition.
But I know better now.
Now I see the seams. The way the silence feels intentional instead of empty. The way people glance at me just a fraction too long before looking away again. The way the executive floor seems tighter today, like the air itself is bracing for something.
I shouldn’t be here.
That thought repeats as I walk. Not because I’m unsure, but because I’m very aware of what I’m walking toward.
Ronan Voss’s office.
And I hate that I still don’t know what version of him I’ll find when I get there.
I knock once. No hesitation this time.
The door opens almost immediately.
He’s already standing there. Like he knew I would come.
That should irritate me.
It doesn’t.
Not really.
Ronan doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me. Not surprised. Not pleased. Not annoyed. Measured, like I’m an equation he expected to solve eventually.
“You came in,” he says finally.
I cross my arms. “You said no. But again, I don’t work for you outside work hours.”
A faint shift in his gaze.
“Yet you’re here,” he replies.
That lands sharper than it should.
“I have questions,” I say.
“No,” he says immediately.
Just like that. No space. No discussion.
I blink once. “That’s not how—”
“It is now,” he interrupts.
My jaw tightens. “You don’t get to decide that.”
A pause.
Then he steps aside. Not inviting. Not blocking. Just moving.
“I do. I am your boss,” he says quietly.
And that should end it.
It doesn’t.
Because I walk in anyway.
The moment I do, I feel it. The shift.
The room isn’t different physically. Same glass walls. Same skyline. Same clean precision of wealth and control.
But something underneath it feels layered. Like there’s another world pressed just beneath the surface of this one, and I’ve already seen the edges of it.
Ronan closes the door behind me.
The sound is soft. Final.
“I told you to leave it alone,” he says.
I turn to face him fully. “And I told you I don’t ignore inconsistencies.”
A beat.
His eyes hold mine.
“Then you’re going to keep digging,” he says.
It’s not a question.
I don’t answer immediately, because I don’t like how accurate that is.
“Yes,” I admit finally.
Silence.
Then something changes in him.
Not visible at first. Just pressure. The space feels smaller again.
“You shouldn’t have gone down there,” he says.
“You mean the restricted level under your building?” I ask.
A flicker in his expression. Not surprise. Something closer to confirmation that I’m no longer guessing.
“You saw too much,” he says.
“I didn’t just see it,” I reply. “I accessed it.”
That earns a pause. A real one this time.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower.
“Who gave you clearance?” he asks.
“No one,” I say.
Another pause. Longer.
For the first time, I see something tighten in his jaw. Not anger. Calculation.
“You forced access,” he says.
“I followed system architecture,” I correct. “It shouldn’t have been there to begin with.”
A beat.
“It shouldn’t be accessible to you,” he says.
I step slightly closer without thinking. “That’s not an explanation.”
His eyes track the movement immediately, like he’s noting distance, angle, risk.
“You don’t understand what you saw,” he says.
“Then explain it,” I say.
A pause. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies me like he’s deciding how much truth is safe.
Then—
“Like I said last night, you saw Black Reign,” he says.
My stomach tightens at the name.
“I saw a room full of armed men under a corporate building,” I correct. “I saw you standing in the center of it like you belonged there more than you belong up here.”
That hits something. Not visible, but real.
His gaze sharpens immediately.
“You need to stop describing it like you understand it,” he says.
“I understand what I saw,” I reply.
“No,” he says.
Just that. No elaboration.
Then, quieter, “You don’t.”
The silence stretches between us.
I hate how steady he is. How controlled. How calm someone should not be when this conversation is happening.
“What is Black Reign?” I ask again.
A long pause.
Then he walks slightly closer. Not enough to trap me. Enough that I feel the difference in the air again.
“It’s not a department,” he says.
“I didn’t think it was.”
“It’s not a security division,” he continues.
“I didn’t think that either.”
His gaze holds mine.
“Then stop guessing,” he says.
My breath catches slightly. Not because of fear, but because of the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’ve crossed a threshold I didn’t see.
“I don’t like being kept in the dark,” I say.
A faint exhale through his nose. Almost frustration. Almost something else.
“You already are,” he says.
That lands heavier than I want it to.
I take a step back without meaning to.
And he notices. Of course he does.
But he doesn’t follow. He just watches.
“You’re not supposed to be involved in this,” he says.
“I didn’t ask to be,” I reply.
A beat.
Then his voice drops slightly.
“Yet you kept digging anyway,” he says.
That should be a point against me.
But the way he says it doesn’t feel like blame. It feels like recognition. Like something I did confirmed something he already knew about me.
Outside the window, the city moves like nothing beneath it is real.
Inside this room, everything feels like it’s starting to shift.
I swallow once.
“If I walk away now,” I say slowly, “this just ends?”
Silence.
Ronan looks at me for a long time. Long enough that I start to think he won’t answer.
Then—
“No,” he says.
Simple. Final.
My chest tightens.
“Then what happens?” I ask.
A pause.
His voice lowers just enough that it feels closer than it should.
“You stop being outside it,” he says.
I hold his gaze. “That’s not an answer either.”
Something shifts in his expression again. Not softer. Just more direct. More honest in a way that doesn’t feel safe.
“You don’t leave something you’ve already seen,” he says.
A beat.
“You become part of what it hides.”
Silence.
This one is different.
He’s not warning me away anymore. He’s stating a rule.
I don’t like how much that feels like truth.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Once. Then again.
I ignore it.
Ronan’s eyes flick down briefly, then back to mine.
“You should leave,” he says quietly.
But he doesn’t move to make me.
And that’s when I realize something I don’t want to admit.
He’s not pushing me out.
He’s giving me the choice.
And I don’t know which one is more dangerous anymore.
- Writer
