Rowan didn't wait another second.
He stepped into Roselyn's apartment, shut the door firmly behind them, and started scanning the room with trained precision—windows, blind spots, escape routes, possible vulnerabilities.
Roselyn stood frozen near the kitchen counter, her hands trembling.
"Rowan… what do we do now?"
He opened her wardrobe, grabbed a duffle bag, and tossed it onto the bed.
"Pack only essentials. Clothes, charger, documents, anything you can't replace. We're leaving in five minutes."
She stared at him, stunned.
"What—five minutes? Rowan, slow down—I just—my life is here—"
"We don't have time," Rowan said sharply, then softened his tone as he looked at her trembling hands."Roselyn, please. They know where you sleep. They know your face. They know your new name."
Her throat tightened. She forced herself to breathe.
"I can't go into hiding again…" she whispered.
He walked to her, gently taking both her shaking hands in his.
"You're not disappearing this time," Rowan said. "We're just relocating until we contain the threat."
Her eyes searched his.Fear and reluctant trust clashed in her gaze.
"Will I be alone again?" she asked quietly.
The question broke something in him.
Rowan cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone.
"No," he said, voice rough. "Not for a single second."
She blinked fast, fighting tears—but she nodded.
Rowan stepped back, giving her space."Four minutes."
She started packing.Clothes, toiletries, her medical textbooks, her stethoscope—hands fumbling, breath unsteady.
Rowan, meanwhile, moved through the apartment silently, entries secured, curtains drawn.
He checked the peephole.
Clear.
He checked the window locks.
Secure.
He checked the small kitchen knife she had dropped earlier.
He sheathed it into his belt.
Roselyn glanced at him. "You're taking my kitchen knife?"
"It's sharp," he said. "And we need every tool we can use."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Five Minutes Later
Roselyn zipped the bag closed, exhaling shakily.
"I'm ready."
Rowan approached, taking the bag from her shoulder.
"I'll carry it. Stay right behind me. If I say run, you run. If I say duck, you duck. If I tell you to close your eyes—"
"I close my eyes," she finished softly.
He nodded.
He opened the door just a crack.
Hallway empty.
Lights steady.
No sound.
"We move now."
They slipped out quietly, Rowan leading, Roselyn close behind. His posture changed instantly into combat-mode—shoulders tensed, stance grounded, gaze sharp.
At the building exit, he held up a hand.
"Stay behind me."
She pressed against the wall, watching his silhouette like it was the only safe thing in the world.
Rowan scanned the street.
For the first time, he didn't like what he saw.
A parked car with tinted windows.
A cigarette still burning on the pavement.
A shadow moving behind a lamppost.
He muttered under his breath, "They're close."
She winced. "Rowan…"
He grabbed her wrist and guided her into the stairwell instead of the main exit.
"We're not taking the front."
They descended quickly. On the bottom floor, Rowan pushed through a maintenance door leading to the alleyway behind the building.
Cold air hit them both.
The alley was empty.
Good.
They walked fast, keeping close to the wall until they reached a concealed black SUV.
Rowan opened the passenger door for her.
"In."
Roselyn climbed in, clutching her bag to her chest. Rowan walked around the driver's side, eyes scanning every direction.
A faint prickling crawled under Roselyn's skin—her gift warning her.
"Rowan—!"
A figure stepped out from behind a dumpster, raising something—
Rowan fired first.
Silencer. Clean. Precise.
The figure dropped before even reaching for their weapon.
Rowan didn't blink.
He got into the driver's seat and slammed the door.
Roselyn sat frozen, eyes wide in shock.
He looked at her, voice steady but gentle.
"Roselyn. Look at me."
She forced her gaze toward him.
He reached over, taking her hand.
"You're safe. I'm here."
Her breath broke.
"I don't want to go through this again," she whispered. "I can't—"
Rowan lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
"You won't," he said. "Not while I'm breathing."
Her chest tightened, and she leaned into him, forehead touching his shoulder. He held her there for a second, letting her steady herself, his hand resting lightly on her waist.
Then he pulled away just enough to meet her eyes.
"We're going to the safe house."
She swallowed. "And after that?"
He started the engine.
"After that," he said quietly, "I'm going to end this."
They drove off into the night—unaware that a dark car pulled out behind them, following with its lights off.
Rambo's hunt had officially begun.