Rowan’s mind was a storm of thoughts, his anger simmering just below the surface.
If they thought they could threaten him, threaten her, they were about to learn just how wrong they were. No one messed with what was his and got away with it.
When they arrived at the airport, Rowan wasted no time. He stepped out of the car, his eyes scanning the area, looking for any sign of danger. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses, heightening his awareness.
“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice low but commanding. “And be ready for anything.”
Harvey and Kyle nodded, their hands hovering near their guns, their eyes scanning the area as they followed Rowan toward the terminal. The airport was busy, filled with people rushing to catch their flights, oblivious to the undercurrents of danger that flowed through the space.
Rowan spotted a familiar figure near the entrance… one of his men, standing casually but alert. The man saw Rowan and nodded slightly, a signal that everything was clear. For now.
Rowan approached the man, his expression unreadable. “Is the jet ready?” he asked in a low voice, his tone calm but carrying an underlying intensity.
The man nodded. “Yes, sir. Everything’s prepared,” he replied, keeping his voice equally low to avoid drawing attention.
Rowan glanced around one last time, his eyes cold and calculating. “Let’s go,” he ordered.
They moved swiftly but inconspicuously through the airport, blending in with the travelers. As they reached the private jet terminal, Rowan’s men formed a protective circle around him, ensuring there were no loose ends, no surprises.
Within minutes, they were aboard the jet, and the engines roared to life. The plane taxied down the runway, and soon, they were airborne, slicing through the sky.
At three a. m., they landed in Las Vegas. The city was a glittering sprawl of neon lights and ceaseless energy, even at this hour. As the jet taxied to a stop, Rowan glanced out the window, his mind already racing ahead to the task at hand.
They disembarked quickly, moving with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Harvey settled into the passenger seat of the sleek black SUV waiting for them on the tarmac, while Kyle, as usual, took the driver’s seat. Rowan slid into the back, his eyes already dark with worry.
“Drive,” Rowan ordered, his voice carrying a weight that demanded obedience.
Kyle nodded, starting the engine with a smooth turn of the key. As the vehicle pulled away from the private airstrip, Rowan spoke again, his tone cold and devoid of emotion. “Towards Moretti Mansion.”
Kyle glanced at Rowan in the rearview mirror, his expression indescribable. There was a flicker of something.. perhaps concern, perhaps fear.. but he said nothing. He knew better than to question Rowan’s decisions. Instead, he pressed the accelerator, driving through the quiet streets of Las Vegas towards Moretti Mansion.
The drive was tense. Rowan’s mind was a storm of thoughts, each one sharper than the last. His shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent pain, but he ignored it, his focus unyielding.
He thought of the message and who was behind it.
As they neared the mansion, Kyle slowed the car, parking it a little farther away from the entrance, hidden in the shadows of a side street. Rowan’s eyes flicked to the mansion. It was an imposing structure, its high walls and guarded gates a clear indication of the power it held.
Outside, a few guards were on their usual shift, patrolling the perimeter with a casual air of authority.
Rowan didn’t move immediately. He stayed in the car, his eyes scanning the guards, studying their movements, their patterns. Ten minutes passed in silence, the tension in the car growing with each second.
Then, with a slow exhale, Rowan opened the car door and got out.
Harvey followed Rowan, his movements quick and quiet.
“Stay in the car,” Rowan ordered, his voice low but firm.
“But, brother,” Harvey began, his tone laced with concern.
“Harvey..,” Rowan interrupted, his voice carrying a warning note.
“Your shoulder,” Harvey pressed, his eyes flicking to the bloodstained bandage.
Rowan waved his head dismissively. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone clipped.
“But…” Harvey urged.
“No buts,” Rowan cut him off sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Stay here. That’s an order.”
Harvey clenched his jaw, frustration flashing across his face, but he nodded. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back toward the car.
Rowan turned away, his eyes locking onto the mansion. He moved silently across the lawn, keeping to the shadows. He avoided the guards with ease, his movements precise and practiced.
He reached a section of the wall where he knew there would be a brief window without guards. It was a spot he had marked in his mind during his meticulous research on the mansion’s security. He waited, counting the seconds, his breathing steady and controlled.
Then, in one fluid motion, he jumped, catching the top of the wall and pulling himself over. He landed on the other side without a sound, crouching low as he scanned the area.
The first floor of the mansion was his target. He knew exactly where to go. He had studied the layout of Moretti Mansion with an obsession that bordered on madness. He knew every room, every corridor, every exit. And he knew which room was hers.
Rowan moved quickly, his footsteps light on the stone path. He reached the balcony he had marked in his mind… a small, secluded one that led directly to her room. To his surprise, the door to the balcony was slightly opened.
His heart skipped a beat, his eyes darkened as he thought, was it even safe to leave the door opened like this?
For god sake, anything could happen.
He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. He slipped through the open door, his movements as silent as a shadow. Inside, the room was dark, the only light coming from a sliver of moonlight that slipped through the curtains. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he scanned the room.