"You have 72 hours to decide."
Rylan stood in my house doorway. How he got beyond my locks, I failed to know. But there he was. Calm as anything.
"Get out," I said.
"Not until we talk."
"We talked already. In Geneva."
"That was different. This is business."
I backed away from him. My hand moved towards the drawer in which I stored a knife.
"Do not," Rylan said. "i'm not right here to harm you."
"Then why are you right here?"
"To save your life."
He walked into my dwelling room like he owned it. Sat down on my couch.
"Damien's family wants you dead," he said.
"You're lying."
"Am I? Check your messages."
I looked at my phone. Three missed calls from unknown numbers. Two voice mails.
"Play them," Rylan said.
The first message was hard to hear. Someone talking fast. But I caugh
