Chapter 1: Pain behind the door

Ryker Vance hunched over his desk.

Contracts, ledgers, reports. Every line had to be perfect. Every number mattered. Mistakes weren’t an option. Not in his world. Not in his life.

Leon sat across from him, flipping through a thick file. Calm. Efficient.

“Shipment from Verona clears tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ve drafted a schedule for security rotations. Adjusted the east perimeter shifts. The last rotation wasn’t enough.”

Ryker didn’t respond. Eyes on the papers. Hands tight around the pen.

“You read me?” Leon asked.

“Yeah,” Ryker said shortly. “I read you.”

Leon raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t say anything. I’m not sure that counts.”

Ryker ignored him.

Then it hit. A sudden stab of pain across his chest. Sharp. Unrelenting.

He dropped the pen. The edges of the papers blurred.

“Ryker?” Leon’s voice was firm now. Alert.

“I’m fine,” Ryker hissed through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Leon said, rising. “Sit. I’m getting your nurse.”

“No,” Ryker said immediately. “I don’t need—.”

But Leon was already gone. Fast. Determined.

Ryker leaned back, trying to ignore it.

Heart thumping painfully.

Breath shallow.

He hated the weakness. Hated needing help. Hated that Leon could see it.

Minutes crawled by. Each tick of the clock louder than the last.

Leon returned. Empty-handed.

Ryker’s eyes narrowed. “Where—?”

“She quit,” Leon said. Calm. Even.

“Suddenly. Can’t say why. Just… left.”

Ryker didn’t reply.

Leon stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on the desk.

“That’s four nurses in two months. Four. You can’t keep scaring them off. Maybe… just accept help before someone ends up hurt.”

Ryker slammed a hand onto the desk.

“I don’t need anyone!”

A flash of pain cut through his chest. Sharp, unforgiving.

Leon was already at his side.

“Sit. Now.”

Ryker tried to resist. Weak. Defeated. The pain was stronger than his stubbornness.

Leon opened the desk drawer, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers.

“Take these.”

“I don’t—.”

Footsteps. Light. Familiar.

A door creaked.

Claire’s voice floated in.

“Ryker?”

A soft gurgle followed.

Isaak.

Ryker’s gaze snapped to the doorway.

Claire appeared, cradling Isaak.

His two-year-old son wriggled slightly, green eyes bright and curious, white hair like Ryker’s.

“He wanted you to put him to bed,” Claire said.

Ryker froze.

Then his chest eased slightly—not the heart, not the pain, but the tension.

He smiled. Small. Genuine.

He stood. Carefully. Pain throbbed with each step.

Isaak’s little hands reached up instinctively, tangling in his father’s shirt.

“Hey, little man,” Ryker whispered. Voice rough, tender.

Isaak pressed his head against Ryker’s chest. Warm. Safe.

Leon watched from the side, smirking.

“Never thought I’d see him smile like that. Not even with a bottle of champagne.”

Ryker ignored him. Focused on Isaak. Always Isaak.

Claire lingered.

“You okay?” Her eyes scanned him carefully.

“I’m fine,” Ryker said.

Leon scoffed.

“Sure. You’re always ‘fine’ until you keel over.”

Ryker shot him a look but softened it at Isaak’s tiny fingers gripping his shirt.

“Did he eat?” Ryker asked, shifting Isaak slightly.

“Mm-hmm,” Claire said.

“But he wanted you.”

Isaak cooed softly, eyes half-closed. Content.

Ryker smiled again.

“You missed me, huh?”

Isaak tightened his hold. “Da-da…”

Leon muttered under his breath.

“Kid’s got good taste.”

Ryker ignored him.

He carried Isaak toward the stairs. Careful, measured. Pain flaring, but ignored.

Leon followed.

“You gonna collapse again, or can I finally let you go upstairs?”

“Don’t even joke,” Ryker said. Eyes forward, heart racing.

Isaak yawned. Tiny sound, full of trust.

Ryker’s lips curved gently.

“Sleepy, huh?”

Claire stepped closer.

“He’s lucky to have you,” she said quietly.

Ryker’s chest tightened—not from the pain, but from the weight of her words. He didn’t respond.

Isaak squirmed.

“Da-da…”

Ryker pressed him close.

“I know. I know.”

They reached the landing.

Ryker paused. Looked at Leon.

“Wait here. I’ll handle bedtime.”

Leon shrugged.

“Try not to break anything.”

Ryker shot him a glare. Isaak wiggled, giggling.

“Careful,” Ryker muttered.

“One wrong move and you’re grounded.”

Isaak laughed. Small, pure, impossible to ignore.

Ryker turned back to him.

“You’re gonna sleep, little man. Promise.”

Isaak’s eyes fluttered.

“Night Da-da…”

Ryker kissed the top of his son’s head.

“Goodnight, Isaak. Daddy’s got you.”

Claire smiled faintly.

“Night, little one.”

Leon leaned against the railing.

“You sure he’s fine?”

Ryker’s hands tightened around Isaak.

“He’s fine. I’ll handle him.”

Leon smirked.

“You always do.”

Ryker didn’t answer. Focused on the boy. Heart pounding. Pain flaring, but secondary.

Isaak yawned again, curling into Ryker’s chest. Tiny fingers clutched the front of his shirt.

Ryker adjusted him carefully, murmuring softly.

“You’re safe. Always safe with me.”

Leon watched quietly. Said nothing. Couldn’t say anything.

Not when the sight softened the man who rarely let anyone see vulnerability.

Ryker climbed the stairs slowly.

Pain throbbed with each step.

But nothing mattered. Not the pain. Not the world outside.

Only Isaak.

Only the boy who made his life worth fighting for.

He reached the bedroom.

Placed Isaak gently on the bed. Tucked him in. Small hands wrapped around his finger.

“Sleep now,” Ryker whispered.

“Daddy’s right here.”

Isaak’s eyes closed.

Ryker’s chest tightened—not from pain, not from fear, but from love he refused to admit aloud.

Leon watched from the doorway.

“You’re lucky. Most men don’t get this.”

Ryker didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Because right now, Isaak’s soft breathing was the only sound that mattered.

The world could wait.

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