Link Between Us

Chapter 2 - Clash of Past

First-Person POV: Ryna

The sound of the Sinarys’ gates creaking open sent a ripple of irritation through me. I already knew who it was. Four years away, and Marcus Sinary thought he could just stroll back into our lives like he hadn’t abandoned us to deal with the fallout.

I watched from the balcony as Hendrick’s beat-up SUV rolled into the driveway, Marcus stepping out like he owned the place. He looked different. Broader shoulders, a sharper jawline, and a hard look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. But that didn’t change what he was—a flight risk, just like his father.

“You’re staring,” Gwen said, appearing behind me with a glass of wine in hand.

“I’m observing,” I replied, crossing my arms.

“Observing him or judging him?” she teased.

“Both.”

---

The estate was alive with activity, maids scurrying to prepare dinner, my parents locked in yet another heated conversation in my father’s office. I was tired of it—the tension, the unspoken frustrations, the never-ending chaos of a business that seemed to consume everyone around it.

I headed downstairs, ready to face Marcus before he had the chance to come to me. Better to control the narrative.

---

When I found him, he was in the garden, his back to me. He was just standing there, staring into the distance like he was contemplating life itself. I almost laughed. Four years, and he still had that brooding energy.

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” I said, stepping into the open.

He turned, and for a split second, I saw something flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe even relief. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that familiar guarded look.

“Ryna,” he said, nodding like we were acquaintances instead of people who had grown up practically living in each other’s pockets.

“Still brooding, I see. Russia didn’t fix that, huh?”

“Still picking fights, I see,” he shot back, his voice as sharp as ever.

I smiled, though it was more out of habit than anything else. Banter was how we communicated—how we always had.

There was a beat of silence between us, just long enough for me to notice how much he’d changed. His stance was more confident, his gaze harder. He wasn’t the same boy who used to argue with me over stupid things like whose family deserved more credit for a business neither of us had wanted to inherit.

“You’re back for good?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“For now,” he replied.

“Good,” I said, shifting my tone. “We’ve got work to do.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Your dad and mine have been running this business into the ground for years. It’s about time someone fixed their mess.”

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

“Why not?” I challenged, stepping closer. “Unless you think you can do better?”

He didn’t answer right away, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. He hated this business as much as I did, but we both knew there was no escaping it. Not when our families were so deeply entangled in it.

“Let’s just get through this dinner,” he said finally, his voice tight. “Then we can figure out how to survive the next week without killing each other.”

I laughed, though it was more bitter than amused. “Survive? You make it sound like spending time with me is torture.”

He gave me a look that said, *Isn’t it?*

---

Dinner was as tense as I’d expected. My father and Mr. Sinary sat at the head of the table, discussing business in clipped tones while Marcus and I sat across from each other, avoiding eye contact. My mother and Mrs. Sinary tried to keep the conversation light, but it was a losing battle.

“So, Marcus,” my mother said, her tone overly bright. “What’s next for you now that you’re back? Any plans?”

“Just focusing on the business,” he said, his voice measured.

“Of course,” my father cut in, his tone sharp. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To clean up the mess you helped create.”

“Pyson,” my mother said warningly.

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. I wanted to say something—to call my father out for his unfairness—but I knew better than to get involved. This was how it always was.

---

After dinner, I found myself back in the garden, needing air. The night was quiet, the stars faint against the glow of the city. I wasn’t surprised when Marcus appeared, his footsteps soft but deliberate.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked without turning around.

“Too much noise,” he replied.

I turned to face him, crossing my arms. “You mean my father?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Among other things.”

There was a pause, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.

“Why’d you come back, Marcus?” I asked finally.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I had to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t have a choice, Ryna. You think I wanted to come back to this?”

“No,” I said softly. “But I thought maybe you’d changed.”

He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine. “I have.”

“Good,” I said, stepping past him. “Because we don’t have time for the old Marcus. Not anymore.”

I didn’t wait for his response, disappearing into the house before he could see how much this conversation had shaken me.