Rowan’s breath catches, and her cheeks flush deeper.
That’s answer enough.
She looks down, then back up, and her voice is quieter. “Okay.”
I expect her to crack a joke. To deflect. To retreat behind sarcasm. She doesn’t. She simply nods once, like she’s respecting the boundary even if she hates it. And something in my chest tightens at the sight of her being brave in a new way.
I step back, giving her space. “We’ll find other ways to pass the time.”
Rowan’s mouth curves faintly, bittersweet. “Like drills.”
“Like drills.”
She leans her head back against the couch and stares at the ceiling. “My life is weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I should have dated a dentist.”
“You’d be dead,” I say flatly.
Rowan looks at me, startled.
I continue, because it’s the truth. “A dentist wouldn’t know how to get you out. A dentist wouldn’t have the resources to cut off your digital trail. A dentist wouldn’t recognize surveillance patterns. You picked a fight with people who don’t care about the rules.”
Her voice is small now. “And you do?”
“I care about you living,” I correct.
The air thickens again.
Rowan’s eyes lock on mine. “You keep saying things like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like I matter.”
I hold her gaze. “You do.”
The silence stretches. Then my phone rings. The sound is sharp in the quiet room, like a knife hitting tile. Rowan flinches instinctively, then stills, trying to look unbothered.
I pull the phone out and check the screen.
Nash.
I answer immediately. “Talk.”
Nash’s voice comes through tight, controlled, familiar. “We have something.”
My gut tightens. “What?”
“We hit the storage unit,” he says. “It wasn’t empty. It was cleaned, but not perfectly. Banks pulled partial prints off a plastic bin, and Crewe found a ledger page hidden under the floor mat. Same word again. Prospect.”
My jaw clenches hard enough to ache. “Any names.”
“Initials,” Nash replies. “A.S. and R.K. We’re cross-referencing. Also found a burner with one contact saved. ‘E.’”
My blood runs cold. “E as in Elena?”
