Elena Vaughn's day began like any other.
She arrived at Central General Medical Centre before dawn, her hair tied in a loose ponytail, white coat folded neatly over her arm. The corridors were quiet at this hour, lit by soft fluorescent lights that hummed like a familiar lullaby.
She liked the early mornings—it gave her a sense of control. Predictability. Routine.
A life she had rebuilt piece by piece.
"Elena! Morning!"Nurse Haru waved as he passed by with a cart full of charts.
She returned the smile. "Morning."
Her steps were steady, but inside, a faint pressure sat beneath her ribs—a murmur of anxiety she could never fully shake. Some days she could ignore it. Today, for reasons she couldn't explain, it pulsed stronger.
A premonition?No. She refused to indulge that kind of fear.
She headed to the resident lounge to prepare her notes. A stack of new patient admissions waited for her attention—common injuries, mild infections, a night shift scuffle that ended with a broken wrist.
Normal. Manageable. Safe.
"Elena, can you check on the patient in 312 later?" her supervising doctor asked while passing by. "The one with the asthma complications."
"Of course."
Her voice was calm, professional.She liked who she was here—someone competent, someone useful. Someone who had value beyond a past that still clawed at her when she slept.
But as she walked toward her locker, she felt it.
A prickling sensation at the back of her neck.The subtle, instinctual warning she had learned in the lab—when danger slithered near in silence.
She turned.
The hallway was empty.
A cold breath traveled down her spine anyway.
Rowan's Perspective — Nearby, but unseen
Rowan sat in an unmarked surveillance van across the street, eyes sharp as he watched multiple screens flicker with hospital camera feeds.
He recognized her immediately.
Elena moving down the hallway, shoulders slightly stiff from tension she didn't show on her face.Her hands holding the chart a little too tightly.Her smile polite but distant.
Two years hadn't erased her habits.They had only etched them deeper.
"She doesn't know," Rowan murmured. "But she senses something."
He watched her pause in front of the stairwell—her head tilting slightly, as if listening for danger.
Old instincts.
His throat tightened.
She shouldn't still have those scars.She shouldn't still have to live like this.
"Captain Hale," his operator's voice crackled over the comms. "Initial perimeter sweep clear. No signs of foreign infiltration. No unusual activity at the entrances."
"Maintain it," Rowan ordered. "If anything feels off—even a shadow—you notify me."
"Yes, Captain."
Rowan leaned back, jaw set.
He had spent years chasing monsters.But the moment he saw her on screen—alive, breathing, walking with purpose—it hit him like a punch to the chest.
She wasn't just a case.She never had been.
"You shouldn't have come back alone," he whispered to the screen. "Not with Rambo still out there."
His fists tightened.
He would not fail her again.
Elena — Trying to breathe through the unease
By midday, Elena found herself standing outside the rooftop garden, hands gripping the railing as she tried to breathe centered and slow.
The morning uneasiness had followed her like a shadow.
She wasn't imagining it.She knew she wasn't.
Ever since that day—the day she escaped the lab, the day Rowan pulled her from that nightmare—her body had learned to sense danger before her mind understood it.
Something was shifting around her today.Invisible, but not absent.
She pulled out her phone and hesitated.
She hadn't contacted Witness Protection in months.No need. No threats. No reason to remind them she existed.
But she typed anyway.
To: WPS Handler"I feel like I'm being watched today. Please check for any anomalies. — E.V."
Her thumb hovered over the send button for a full five seconds before she pressed it.
Some wounds never fully healed.
WPS Response — And a new wave of conflict
The reply was fast. Too fast.
From: WPS Handler"Received. Stay calm. Observation protocols initiated. Avoid unusual routes today. Employer location cleared. Maintain routine."
Elena stared at the message.Routine?How was she supposed to maintain routine when every instinct screamed something was wrong?
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and forced herself to return downstairs.
She had patients.She had responsibilities.She had a life that she refused to let fear steal again.
But as she passed the reflective glass of the stairwell window, she glimpsed something odd.
A figure on a nearby rooftop.Dark clothes.Face obscured.
Her heart lurched—
But when she blinked, the figure was gone.
Get a grip, Elena.You're safe. You're safe.
She repeated it like a chant, though the words tasted like a lie.
Rowan — Watching her almost notice him
From the surveillance angle on the rooftop, Rowan saw her slow, saw her glance toward his direction.
He immediately stepped back from the ledge.
She felt him.
Even after two years apart.
Even without seeing his face.
Her instincts still tuned to his presence.
A quiet, painful warmth lodged itself beneath his ribs.
"She still recognizes me."
A beat of silence.
"But she's scared."
And that—more than anything—made him furious at himself, the agency, the world that forced her into hiding.
He whispered to no one, voice rough with determination:
"I'm watching over you, Roselyn. And I'll keep watching until I know you're safe."
Elena — A whisper from the past
Later that evening, as she exited the hospital with her bag over her shoulder, the sunset painted the city in shades of gold and red.
But she didn't feel its warmth.
Because a memory stirred at the edge of her thoughts—A whisper from a voice she couldn't forget.
"You're safe now. I've got you."
A voice that haunted her dreams.A voice she once trusted.A voice she never found again.
She closed her eyes.
"I must be imagining things," she murmured.
Because Rowan Hale was gone from her life.By choice.By protocol.By the agency's rules.
He wasn't coming back.
She didn't know that he was watching her from across the street—jaw clenched, heart tight, silently breaking at her expression.
She didn't know he had promised himself something unspoken.
Tonight was the first step.
He wasn't going to lose her again.