Rowan Hale POV
Rowan slammed the laptop shut.
"No," he said out loud. "Not again."
The sound echoed in the small cabin. His heart beat fast, the way it always did when the past came knocking. He stood up and paced the room, running a hand through his hair.
He had promised himself he would stop checking.
Just one more look, he had told himself that morning. One more scroll through the news. One more check to make sure she was still smiling in those photos.
Elara Quinn.
He opened the laptop again.
The screen lit up with her face. A photo from the charity drive. She was crouched down, smiling at a child, holding a handmade card. Even through the screen, her kindness showed.
Rowan swallowed hard.
"She's real," he whispered. "You can see it."
Three years ago, people had looked at him the same way. Trusted him. Believed in him.
Until they didn't.
Rowan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chest. The old pain was still there, like a bruise that never healed. His name had once meant honesty. Now it meant scandal.
That was why he lived out here. Away from people. Away from lies.
And yet he kept watching her.
He scrolled through more photos and short videos. Elara handing out food. Elara laughing with volunteers. Elara listening, really listening, to people who felt unseen.
"She doesn't fake it," Rowan said. "I know fake."
A memory flashed through his mind. Reporters shouting. Cameras flashing. Headlines that burned his name into the ground.
He shut his eyes.
"Don't let them do it to her," he murmured.
His phone rang.
Rowan flinched.
Only one person still called him.
He stared at the screen until it stopped ringing. Then it rang again.
With a sigh, he answered. "What, Derek."
"Nice greeting," Derek said. "You alive out there, or have you fully turned into a ghost?"
Rowan glanced around the cabin. "Depends who's asking."
"I'm asking," Derek replied. "Your friend. The one who hasn't given up on you."
Rowan stayed quiet.
Derek continued. "I saw your name pop up online again. Someone said you commented on a charity article."
Rowan frowned. "I didn't comment."
"You liked it," Derek said. "That's enough for people to notice."
Rowan closed his eyes. "I forgot people still watch."
"They always do," Derek replied. "So tell me. When are you coming back."
"Not happening," Rowan said.
"Rowan," Derek pressed. "You can't hide forever."
"I'm not hiding," Rowan snapped. "I'm surviving."
Silence filled the line.
Then Derek spoke softly. "You survived before. You can live again."
Rowan laughed without humor. "You saw what they did to me."
"I also saw what really happened," Derek said. "And so will others. One day."
Rowan said nothing.
Derek sighed. "I'll let you go. Just… don't disappear fully, okay."
The call ended.
Rowan stared at his phone.
Live again.
He looked back at the screen.
Elara's face filled it once more.
"She's stepping into fire," he whispered. "And she doesn't even see the smoke."
He clicked on another article. This one talked about record donations. Praise. Trust.
Too much trust.
His stomach tightened.
He refreshed the page.
A new headline loaded.
Rowan froze.
Boston Charity Under Investigation.
His breath caught.
Slowly, he clicked.
The page opened.
And there she was.
Elara's photo. Not smiling this time. Cropped from a video. Her eyes wide, mid sentence.
Rowan's hands shook.
"No," he said. "No, no, no."
He scanned the words quickly.
Irregularities. Audit. Questions.
His chest felt tight.
This was how it started.
He knew this path too well.
"They're setting you up," he whispered. "Just like they did to me."
A notification popped up below the article.
More updates coming soon.
Rowan stood so fast his chair fell backward.
He paced the cabin, anger and fear mixing inside him.
"Someone is using you," he said out loud. "And you still think everyone is good."
He stopped and looked at the screen again.
At her face.
Something inside him shifted.
Three years ago, no one had warned him. No one had spoken up.
He had been alone.
"I won't let that happen to you," Rowan said.
His phone buzzed.
Another alert.
He grabbed it.
Breaking update.
Board statement expected.
Rowan felt a cold weight settle in his gut.
"They're moving fast," he said.
He sat down slowly.
This was dangerous territory. If he stepped back into the world, the past would follow. The lies. The pain. The blame.
But if he stayed silent, she would fall.
Rowan clenched his fists.
"Kind people don't survive wolves alone," he whispered.
He opened a blank note on his laptop.
Started typing.
Names. Dates. Patterns.
He searched Marcus Chen.
His jaw tightened.
"Oh," Rowan said softly. "I know your kind."
The wind outside howled through the trees.
Rowan didn't hear it.
All he could see was Elara's face on the screen, now framed by words that could destroy her life.
"This is how it begins," he said. "But it won't end the same."
He stared at the headline one last time.
Boston Charity Under Investigation.
And beneath it, her name.
Rowan closed the laptop slowly.
"I'm coming," he whispered. "Whether they like it or not."
The cabin fell silent.
But the quiet no longer felt safe.