The early morning fog clung to the ground like a soft veil as Roselyn stood in the courtyard of her grandfather's private training compound, its high stone walls towering around her like an ancient fortress. The air was cold and sharp, biting her lungs each time she inhaled. She welcomed the sting—it helped her stay alert. Focused. Present.
It had been three weeks since Rowan left.Three weeks since his last "I'll be back soon," whispered against her hair.
But there had been no calls, no messages, no encrypted notes.Not even a sign from the agency hinting at his condition or whereabouts.
The silence carved into her chest deeper each day.
Lucian Young observed her from a distance, his arms crossed. Though he rarely showed emotion, his watchful eyes softened slightly whenever she stumbled. He saw something in her—the fire, the potential, the quiet rage she carried. She was no longer the fragile girl he feared had been lost forever.
She was becoming something more.Something stronger.
"Again," Lucian ordered.
Roselyn tightened her grip on the wooden training staff, her knuckles whitening. Her instructor, a retired operative named Commander Sato—stern, disciplined, and infuriatingly precise—charged at her with fluid, controlled strikes. She moved to block, her arms absorbing the blow. The shock vibrated down to her elbows, but she gritted her teeth and adjusted her stance.
"Your footwork is sloppy," Sato said flatly. "You hesitate before every pivot. Stop thinking. React."
"I am reacting," Roselyn snapped, breathless.
"You're reacting emotionally," he corrected. "Emotion gets you killed."
His next strike came faster. Roselyn barely managed to parry it, stumbling back two steps. Sweat dripped down her forehead, the ache in her muscles burning from hours of drills. But she forced her feet to stay planted.
"Again," Sato repeated, merciless.
Lucian watched them, but he didn't intervene. He knew this was necessary. Roselyn was born into power, privilege, and protection, but none of that mattered anymore. Rambo had shown her what vulnerability felt like. Rowan had shown her what safety felt like.
Now she would learn how to create her own.
When training finally paused for a water break, Roselyn sat on the bench, chest rising and falling quickly. Sato stood across from her, arms behind his back.
"You're improving," he admitted. "But your mind is elsewhere."
Roselyn froze, staring at the ground. She didn't need to ask what he meant.She already knew.
Rowan.The absence of him.The unknown.
She bit the inside of her cheek. "What if something happened to him?"
Sato raised an eyebrow. "Then his team will handle it. Your concern is understandable. Your distraction is unacceptable."
Roselyn clenched her jaw. "He didn't even send a sign. Not even a coded signal."
Lucian approached then, his heavy footsteps deliberate. "Roselyn."
She lifted her eyes, swallowing hard.
"Rowan is a soldier," Lucian said, voice steady. "You know the nature of his missions. Silence is common. Necessary, even."
"But it's not like him," she whispered. "He wouldn't just disappear without a word."
Lucian exchanged a brief glance with Sato before sitting next to her. "He has done more for you than his duty required. That alone tells me he will come back."
He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "But until then, you must keep moving."
Roselyn looked down at her hands. Her fingers trembled slightly, a faint reminder of her past—of Rambo, of the lab, of the experiments. But under Lucian's training, the tremor had grown weaker. Her body was changing again—not from torture, but from discipline.
"I'm trying," she murmured.
"I know," Lucian replied. "And you're doing well. But strength isn't only about fighting. It's about enduring uncertainty."
She nodded, though tears threatened to rise. She blinked them away quickly, unwilling to show weakness in front of Sato.
"Break time is over," Sato said abruptly, stepping forward. "Back on your feet."
Roselyn stood, shoulders squaring, determination refocusing. The distraction in her chest didn't vanish, but she pushed it down—just for now.
As she moved into the training stance, something unexpected happened.
The world tilted.A faint ringing echoed in her ears.Her vision flickered.
Not from exhaustion.
From her gift.
The sensory surge—an aftermath of Rambo's experiments—washed over her in a wave. It wasn't painful, just overwhelming. Her perception sharpened instantly, sounds amplifying: the distant crunch of footsteps on gravel, the rustle of leaves, Lucian's steady breathing, Sato's heartbeat—slow, controlled.
Her grip tightened on her staff.
"Roselyn," Sato warned, noticing the change in her eyes, "stay grounded."
"I'm fine," she said, breath catching. "Let's continue."
Sato attacked again, but this time she moved before he completed his swing. Her reflexes were unnaturally fast, her movements sharper, more precise. She dodged, countered, and disarmed him with a fluid motion even she hadn't expected.
Sato stepped back, stunned. "That… was not normal."
Lucian narrowed his eyes but didn't comment. He had seen glimpses of this before. Roselyn's abilities weren't fully understood—not by her, not by them, not even by the agency. But he knew one thing:
This gift, if controlled, could become her greatest weapon.Or her greatest curse.
Her breathing quickened as the heightened sensations faded. She pressed a hand against her chest.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean—"
Sato raised a hand to stop her. "Don't apologize. Learn to control it."
Lucian stepped forward. "We'll increase your training. Not just physically—mentally. You must master whatever was done to you. Rambo wanted to use you. But you will turn his intentions into your strength."
Roselyn swallowed, nodding slowly.
She would keep walking. Keep fighting. Keep training.
But as she returned to stance, her heart whispered one truth she couldn't silence:
Rowan… where are you?Why haven't you come back to me?
The silence between them grew louder each day.And yet, she refused to believe he was gone.
Because love wasn't something she could abandon.Not after everything they had survived.
And when Rowan finally returned—whenever that would be—she wanted to face him not as a victim, but as an equal.
Stronger.Braver.Ready.