He was thorough.. always had been…
It was what had kept him alive all these years, what had allowed him to build his empire from the ground up. He wasn’t going to let this go.
He couldn’t.
This was personal now.
Rowan tapped a few more keys, accessing a different program, one he rarely used. It was more invasive, more dangerous, but he was beyond caring about that now.
If it got him what he needed, then so be it.
He watched as the screen filled with lines of code, his eyes scanning rapidly. This program was designed to break through the toughest of defenses, to peel back the layers of security that protected even the most hidden of secrets.
Minutes ticked by, the tension in the room growing thicker. Rowan’s breathing was shallow, his focus razor-sharp. His eyes darted back and forth across the screen, following the data as it streamed in, looking for any sign, any clue.
Then..
Finally… there was a flicker…
A momentary blip in the code, so fast that anyone else would have missed it.
But not Rowan.
He zeroed in on it, his heart beating faster. There it was. A tiny crack in the armor, a small slip-up. He dove into the data, pulling at the thread, unraveling it slowly, carefully.
It was like trying to dismantle a bomb.. one wrong move, and everything could blow up in his face. But Rowan was patient. Methodical. He knew how to handle delicate situations.
As he worked, the trail began to unravel, the pieces slowly falling into place. He could feel it now… the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was what he lived for, what he thrived on.
The chase, the game, the power struggle.
And he was good at it… Damn good…
But just as he felt he was getting closer, just as the trail began to take shape, it vanished.
The connection was severed, the data scrambled.
Rowan stared at the screen, his expression one of pure frustration. Whoever this was, they were toying with him. They had led him this far, only to cut him off, to let him know that they were in control.
He slammed his fist down on the desk, the force rattling the laptop. “Damn it!” he snarled, his voice a low, angry growl. He hated this feeling… this helplessness, this lack of control.
It was foreign to him, something he hadn’t felt in years.
He had always been the one pulling the strings, the one calling the shots. But now, it seemed, the tables had turned.
Rowan leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. Whoever was behind this had made a mistake. They had underestimated him, underestimated his resolve and power. They thought they could intimidate him, scare him into submission.
But they didn’t know him.
They didn’t know what he was capable of.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. His eyes were still fixed on the screen, the remnants of the broken trail taunting him.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
He would find them.
He would hunt them down, no matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do. And when he did, they would wish they had never crossed him.
He closed the laptop, the screen going dark, and stood up, his posture rigid and tense. His mind was already racing with new plans, new strategies. He needed to be smarter, to think outside the box.
Whoever this was, they were playing a dangerous game, and Rowan wasn’t about to let them win.
He walked over to the window, looking out into the darkness, his expression hard and serious. The city was quiet, the streets empty. But he knew better than to trust appearances. There were always eyes watching, always threats lurking in the shadows. He had learned that lesson a long time ago, and it had kept him alive ever since.
Rowan’s phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. He turned, picking it up, his eyes narrowing as he read the new message. It was another taunt, another challenge. A dare. Whoever this was, they wanted to provoke him, to push him to his limits.
A slow smile spread across Rowan’s face, a cold, dangerous smile.
They wanted a fight? Fine. He’d give them one. He’d give them a war. And he’d make damn sure they regretted ever trying to mess with him.
Rowan turned from the window, his eyes dark just like night sky. He had a lot of work to do, a lot of preparations to make.
But he was ready. He was always ready. This was his world, his domain. And he wasn’t about to let anyone take that away from him.
As he moved back to his desk, his phone still in hand, he began to make calls, his voice calm and commanding. He wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. He wasn’t going to give his enemies any advantage. Not now, not ever.
The night stretched on, the minutes ticking by. Rowan’s mind was sharp, his focus unyielding. He had a plan. And he would see it through, no matter the cost.
Because that was who he was. A man who didn’t back down. A man who fought for what was his. And he would fight until the bitter end.
As Amara buttoned Vaughn’s school uniform, she noticed his curious gaze fixed on her. His young eyes held a question, a depth that was uncommon for a child his age. She couldn’t help but smile softly at him, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead. Vaughn was always so perceptive, so keen on understanding the world around him.
“Mommy,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest.
“Yes, baby?” Amara replied, her tone gentle as she straightened his collar.
Vaughn hesitated for a moment, his small brows furrowing slightly as he searched for the right words. “What do you think about Rowan uncle, Mommy?”