For a moment, the room was still. Amara’s heart pounded as she held her breath, her gaze fixed on Vaughn’s face.
The tiger reached out with one paw, tapping gently at Vaughn’s knee in a playful gesture, its wide eyes shining with innocence and curiosity.
Amara’s chest tightened painfully, her emotions raw as she watched..
She silently prayed and hoped that Vaughn would respond.
Then, just as the weight of silence seemed unbearable, Vaughn’s eyes flickered..
A little..
His gaze shifted slightly toward the small creature in front of him.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there..
A faint glimmer, a faint flicker of recognition!
Amara’s heart leaped, her hands trembling as she watched him, feeling a fragile hope within her. “Vaughn,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Look, Baby. It’s your friend, the tiger.”
Vaughn’s fingers twitched slightly, his hand slowly reaching out toward the tiger, as if drawn by some distant memory.
He touched the soft fur tentatively, his movements slow and uncertain, but there was something.. something alive, something real.
Rowan watched quietly, a fierce relief mingling in his eyes. He placed a reassuring hand on Vaughn’s back, his gaze never leaving him alone. “You’re doing great, Vaughn,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft. “He’s here for you. We’re all here for you.”
As Vaughn’s small fingers traced over the tiger’s fur, Amara felt a tear slip down her cheek.
She didn’t bother to wipe it away.
She knew that this moment was fragile. It was a breakthrough.
It was a small step, a faint spark in the darkness, but it was something.
Vaughn’s fingers tightened slightly around the tiger’s fur, his gaze lifting briefly to meet Amara’s eyes.
There, in the depths of his expression, she saw a hint of her son she’d known..
Amara reached out, covering Vaughn’s hand with hers, feeling the warmth and life in his small fingers.
She looked up at Rowan in gratitude and silent understanding.
Rowan gave her a faint nod, his expression softening as he watched her. “He’s strong, Amara,” he whispered, his gaze intense. “He’s just lost right now, but he’ll find his way back. And I’ll be here, every step of the way.”
Amara nodded, her voice breaking as she replied, “Thank you, Rowan. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
The tiger curled up beside Vaughn, nudging him playfully
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Amara felt a glimmer of peace, a fragile but precious hope that perhaps, one day, her son would return to her, whole and healed.
Meanwhile, on the east side of Las Vegas..
Kneeling in a tight row, a group of local gang members trembled, their faces were pale, drenched in sweat despite the chilly air.
Their heads were bowed, eyes were casted downward, as though they trying to escape the scrutiny of the man standing before them..
A man whose presence alone had the weight of a death sentence.
He wore a dark mask that covered most of his face, leaving only his grey eyes were exposed.. cold, and devoid of humanity.
The mask made him a shadow, an enigma, and in the darkness, like he was a figure of pure menace.
There was no mercy, no flicker of empathy in his gaze.. only a deep, unwavering calm that hinted at violence held barely in check.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and cold, each word slicing through the air with an unspoken promise of pain. “Tell me,” he began slowly, his tone laced with venom, “what should I do with you?”
The gang members heard his cold voice and remained mute.
Each of them had blood on their hands, yet they knew this masked man was in a league beyond anything they had encountered.
There had been stories about him.. about his brutal methods.. his unrelenting pursuit of retribution.. there had been whispered in hushed tones, like no one dared to believe until he stood in front of them.
The masked man’s eyes narrowed, his patience thinning.
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the echo of his boots against the cold concrete filling the room with a dread that thickened the air.
He raised his hand, revealing a glint of steel.. a dagger, wickedly sharp, gleaming even in the dim light.
He brought the blade to one of the men’s throats, letting it press lightly against his skin, enough to draw a thin line of blood.
“I asked you something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the threat of death.
The man under the dagger trembled, his eyes were filled with terror, but his mouth remained shut..
The masked man tilted his head, considering, as though weighing the man’s life in his hands.
With a sudden, precise movement, he withdrew the dagger from the man’s throat and let the blade slide under his chin, lifting his face so he was forced to look into his cold and chilling grey eyes.
The masked man’s voice came low, dripping with menace, each word articulated slowly, dangerously. “What did I order?” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity.
The man beneath the blade swallowed, his throat bobbing against the cold steel, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. “It… it was to kidnap him,” he stammered, voice barely a whisper.
The masked man nodded, his grip on the dagger unwavering. “Then why,” he said, voice a chilling murmur that somehow seemed louder in the silence, “did you let him go?”
The gang member’s eyes widened in terror, but he had no answer, his lips parting soundlessly.
It wasn’t like he had some choice, but just he wanted to save his life from Rowan.
The masked man continued. “You were given one order. One chance.” He paused, letting the silence settle around them, suffocating and final. “And you lost it.”
The man’s lip quivered, a final plea forming in his eyes, “Please give one more choice please.”