Two days after Rowan saw Roselyn—Lianna—at the hospital, he made his move.
Not toward her.Not directly.
But around her.
A vacant unit had conveniently opened right next to hers in the residential complex. A coincidence… manufactured by the agency within an hour of his request.
Protection required proximity.
And Rowan was done protecting her from a distance.
As he unlocked his new door, he could hear faint movement from the unit beside his—hers. Soft footsteps, a kettle boiling, pages flipping. Normal, peaceful sounds.
Sounds he wanted her to keep forever.
He set up surveillance only for external entrances—never through her walls or windows. He would rather die than cross that line.
But Roselyn…she sensed things.
Ever since the experiment.
And tonight—she felt something wrong.
Inside Roselyn's Apartment
She froze while cutting vegetables for dinner.
It happened again—that prickling sensation under her skin.As if electricity hummed through her bones.As if something familiar—dangerous—was nearby.
Her "gift."A side effect of Rambo's experimentation.Enhanced awareness, hyper-instinct, the impossible ability to feel specific presences.
And right now—
A presence she remembered.The one she had felt only once before—
On a burning ship.
Her breath caught.
"No… it can't be him."
She put down the knife and slowly walked toward her door, her heart racing but her steps silent.
The presence grew stronger.Closer.Right outside.
Her pulse hammered.
She swung the door open.
And there he was.
Rowan Hale—standing at his door, frozen mid-turn, just as shocked to see her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Her eyes widened with disbelief… then anger… then something rawer.
"You," she whispered. "You're real."
He swallowed hard. "Roselyn—"
"It's Lianna." Her voice was sharp, defensive, trembling. "Why are you here? H-How did you find me? Are you following me?"
She stepped closer, eyes burning with accusation and fear.
"You can't be here," she said. "You can't just appear after all these years—"
Rowan met her stare, his own voice low, deep, calm.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
"You shouldn't be here at all."
"I had to make sure you were safe."
Her chest tightened.
"Safe?" She laughed weakly, shakily. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to build this life? To forget that ship? To forget him? To forget—"
Her voice cracked.
Rowan's expression shifted—from controlled silenceto something fierce and pained.
"I know," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry."
She looked away, blinking fast, trying to calm herself.
But her gift kept reacting to him—the warmth, the familiarity, the strange pull.
It terrified her.
"Why now?" she whispered. "Why show up now… Rowan?"
He stepped closer.
Too close.
"Because Rambo is moving again."
Her breath hitched.
That name was a wound.
And he had just reopened it.
She staggered back a little, panic rising—until Rowan gently caught her wrist.
Not tight.Not controlling.Just enough to anchor her.
"Roselyn, look at me."His voice softened. "You're not alone this time."
She looked up—right into his eyes—and everything inside her trembled.
The fear.The relief.The longing she didn't dare feel.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Rowan exhaled, as if giving in to something he had been fighting for two years.
And then—
He leaned down.
Slowly.Carefully.Giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
She rose onto her toes instead.
Their lips met—soft at first, hesitant, unsure—then deepening as the years of silence, fear, and unspoken connection broke open between them.
Her hands gripped his shirt.
His hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer.
It wasn't gentle.It wasn't calm.It was the desperate, trembling kiss of two people who had almost lost each other before they had even begun.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless—
Rowan rested his forehead against hers.
"I'm not leaving again," he whispered."Not while he's still out there."
Roselyn closed her eyes, tears gathering.
"Then stay," she breathed. "But promise me… don't lie. Not anymore."
His voice shook when he answered.
"Never again."
And outside the hallway, unnoticed—a shadow lingered at the far end.
Watching.Listening.Waiting.
Rambo's men had arrived.