Amara nodded, her faith in him was steady but fragile. He was her last hope, and she could see that Vaughn’s absence had disturbed Rowan too.. even without him knowing Vaughn was his son. H
er chest tightened with longing and fear..
She wished she could tell him the truth, to finally reveal what she had kept hidden all these years.
But uncertainty crept in, wrapping around her thoughts like a dark mist.
How would Rowan react? How would he handle knowing Vaughn was his blood?
The night passed slowly, and morning broke with a bleak sense of urgency.
Amara drifted through the early hours, her mind elsewhere as Rowan prepared breakfast. He moved through the kitchen with silent focus, the familiar act of making something simple for her grounding him amidst the turmoil.
“Here.” Rowan set a plate in front of her, but Amara couldn’t bring herself to eat.
Her stomach churned with unease, her appetite had long gone. The thought of Vaughn alone and frightened, or worse, robbed her of any desire to swallow a single bite.
A faint pang of guilt stabbed at her.. how could she sit here and eat while her son was out there, who knew where, or with whom?
The sound of the front door opening snapped her attention back to the room.
She watched as Kyle walked in, his usual swagger tempered by the tension hanging over them all.
Rowan set his coffee down and met Kyle’s gaze, eyes questioning, a flicker of hope in his expression that soon turned to guarded neutrality.
Amara stood up, her heart beating fast. Kyle’s arrival made hope surge inside her,
She hope that maybe… just maybe.. he had finally found a lead.
Her gaze locked on Kyle, her lips parted slightly in anticipation.
“Boss,” Kyle began, his tone low, apologetic. “Nothing suspicious came up on Bianca Gallo or Dante. We’ve had eyes on them, but they’re moving around as usual, no odd activity.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened, and his hands flexed, an almost invisible reaction to the lack of progress.
He nodded slowly, processing the information.
This lead hadn’t brought them any closer to Vaughn. The frustration simmered just beneath the surface, but he kept his tone even as he answered Kyle.
“Alright.” Rowan’s voice was calm, though a dark edge lay beneath.
He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the dead-end. There had to be something else they hadn’t yet considered.
Amara, however, was not as calm.
Her hands clenched as she looked at Rowan, her gaze penetrating. “Maybe we’re trying the wrong approach,” she murmured. “What if it’s someone else? What if Bianca and Dante had nothing to do with this?”
Rowan turned to her, studying her with a quiet intensity. He could see the fear swimming in her eyes, and he understood it, felt it as keenly as if it were his own.
If she was right and they had been misled, Vaughn was further away than they thought.
“Alright,” Rowan said with a slight nod. He turned to Kyle, his voice steady but resolute. “Reach out to all our other contacts, check with anyone who might know something. We need to cover every angle.”
Kyle gave a swift nod, and quickly left the room, his phone already out, thumb moving over the screen as he prepared to call in every favor he had.
Rowan watched him leave, feeling the weight of Amara’s gaze on him.
Rowan exhaled slowly, his focus returning to Amara. “We’ll find him,” he assured her, his voice firm, though a thread of exhaustion had crept in.
Amara could see the strain in his face, the weariness that even he couldn’t hide.
She wanted to reach out, to rest her hand on his, to tell him that she knew he was doing everything he could.
But fear clawed at her, and instead, she stood there, swallowing down the words she desperately wanted to say.
As the day wore on, Kyle continued his search, relentless in his pursuit.
Amara paced the room, her eyes darting to the window every so often, her nerves frayed.
Rowan sat at the table, head bowed over his phone, eyes fixed on the screen as he combed through messages, checking in with every contact he had left.
The hours ticked by, and each passing minute dragged down Amara’s hope like weights on her shoulders.
Amara’s heart stilled as her phone rang, the shrill tone shattering the tense silence that had settled over the room.
Her gaze flicked to the screen flashing and pulling her back to the present..
She hesitated, her fingers gripping the phone tightly before she finally accepted the call, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hello Mom?” she managed, her voice a strained whisper.
On the other end, Isabelle’s voice was soft but weighted with worry. “Hello, Amara… where are you?” Isabelle asked.
There was a subtle edge to her tone, though she was trying to keep her composure.
The maternal concern threaded through her voice was palpable, and for a moment, Amara could picture her mother’s furrowed brow, the worry lines deepening on her face.
Amara opened her mouth to respond but faltered, her mind grasping for words that refused to come.
The question hung heavy between them, and Isabelle must have sensed the hesitation because her voice sharpened with a touch of anxiety.
“Amara,” Isabelle continued, her voice low but insistent, “did you… did you find Vaughn? Or… or any information?”
Amara’s throat tightened, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She could feel the weight of her mother’s expectation, the unspoken fear lingering in every syllable. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since Vaughn disappeared, avoiding that call, avoiding the worry she couldn’t afford to feel.
“No, Mom… nothing,” she whispered, her voice barely holding. “We’re trying, we’re looking everywhere, but there’s no sign of him yet.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, a silence so heavy it felt like it could crush her. “Amara… you know Vaughn is a fighter. You… you taught him to be. He’ll be okay… he has to be.”
The ache in Amara’s chest grew sharper, twisting painfully as she listened to her mother’s attempts at comfort, even as she could hear the faint quiver in Isabelle’s voice that betrayed her own fear. “I know, Mom,” she choked out, though her voice held no conviction, just a raw, unfiltered desperation.
A tear slipped down her cheek, cold and unrelenting. She quickly brushed it away, her jaw clenching. She couldn’t break. Not now.
“Listen, just…” Isabelle’s voice softened, a faint urgency pushing through her words, “Promise me, Amara, that you’ll stay safe. Vaughn wouldn’t want… he wouldn’t want you hurt.”
Amara swallowed, forcing the words out past the tightness in her throat. “I promise.”