Rowan was sitting in the cold, sterile hospital waiting room, a heavy silence pressing down on his shoulders.
He had been sitting there for what felt like hours, his mind racing, replaying the events over and over, yet finding no answers.
All he knew was that Kyle and Harvey were barely hanging on, fighting for their lives behind the closed doors of the emergency room.
Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness.. the steady tick of the clock on the wall, the distant hum of machines, the low murmurs of doctors and nurses as they hurried back and forth.
He barely noticed any of it, his gaze locked on the door leading to the operating room, willing himself to stay composed.
But then, amidst the chaos of his own thoughts, he heard it.. the familiar sound of approaching footsteps…
Rowan’s heart clenched as he looked up, his body tense. His father, Marco Falcone, appeared first, his face a mask of controlled fury.
His mother, Isabelle, followed closely behind, her eyes wide with fear and something darker.. something Rowan couldn’t quite place but felt like a dagger twisting in his gut.
They walked towards him, their movements were sharp and urgent, and it was clear they already knew.
The air around them crackled with a mixture of fury and dread, and Rowan braced himself.
“Rowan!” Marco’s voice was a deep, commanding growl, sharp and clear in the sterile quiet. He strode toward his eldest son with an intensity that seemed to cut through the hospital’s sterile atmosphere, the sound of his polished shoes echoing off the walls.
Isabelle was right behind him, her steps quickening as she saw Rowan’s bloodied clothes, the visible signs of the nightmare he had just endured.
Rowan stood, his body rigid as they approached.
His father’s eyes were like dark storm clouds, swirling with unspoken questions and accusations, while his mother’s were filled with a mix of disbelief and raw, desperate worry.
Isabelle’s gaze flickered to the bloodstains on Rowan’s sleeves, her face paling as her hands trembled.
“What the hell happened?” Marco demanded, his voice cold and biting, cutting straight to the point. He stopped barely a foot away from Rowan, his towering presence almost suffocating. “What happened to Harvey?”
Rowan swallowed, trying to steady his breathing, but his throat felt dry, his voice caught somewhere between fury and anguish. “I don’t know, Dad,” he said, his voice hoarse and low. “I don’t know what happened.”
The admission seemed to hang in the air, heavy and damning.
Marco’s jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides.
Isabelle stepped closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her hands reaching out as if she wanted to touch Rowan but was too afraid.
“Rowan, please,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “Tell us what you do know. How did it get to this? Why is Harvey in there? Why… why are you covered in blood?” Her voice quivered, but there was an undeniable strength beneath it.. like a fierce maternal demand for the truth.
Rowan’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, he saw his own fear reflected in her gaze.
The helplessness.
The dread.
But he couldn’t give her what she wanted, not when he was grappling with the same questions, not when he had no answers himself.
His heart ached at the sight of his mother’s pain, but he had to remain steady, had to stay focused. “I don’t know, Mom,” he said again, forcing the words out. “I got the emergency alert from Kyle’s car, and when I arrived, they were already unconscious. I don’t know who did this… or why.”
Marco’s expression darkened, his brows drawing together in a furious scowl.
He took a step closer to Rowan, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You don’t know? How could you not know, Rowan? This is your brother.. your responsibility. You were supposed to keep him safe, and now he’s lying in there, barely holding on!”
Rowan flinched at the accusation, the sharp edge of his father’s words slicing through him like a blade.
He knew his father was right, in some twisted way..
Harvey had always been his responsibility, the younger brother he was supposed to protect.
And now, Rowan felt the crushing weight of his own failure. His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to keep his voice steady.
“I did everything I could,” Rowan said through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and regret. “I got there as fast as I could. But I wasn’t… I wasn’t fast enough.”
Isabelle’s breath hitched, and she stepped back, one hand covering her mouth as if to hold back a sob. Her shoulders shook, and Rowan’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of her grief.
She had always been the softer one, the calm amidst the storm that was the Falcone family. Seeing her so broken, so vulnerable, made something inside him shatter.
Marco’s fury only seemed to grow, his face reddening with barely-contained rage. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Rowan thought his father might actually hit him.
But then Marco stopped, his gaze boring into Rowan’s with a cold, unyielding intensity.
“This isn’t over,” Marco said, his voice low and venomous. “You will find out who did this. You will make them pay. Do you understand me?”
Rowan nodded, his jaw set. “I will.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “You better. Because if anything happens to Harvey, if he doesn’t make it… it’s on you, Rowan. It’s all on you.”
Rowan’s heart skipped a beat, the words hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, trapped under the weight of his father’s expectation, his condemnation. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He couldn’t afford to.
Marco’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, filled with something dark and dangerous, before he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, his movements stiff with anger.
Isabelle hesitated, her eyes lingering on Rowan, her expression torn between a mother’s love and a mother’s despair.
“Rowan…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… find who did this. Bring my son back to me.”
Rowan’s throat tightened, and he nodded, unable to find the words.
Isabelle’s face crumpled, and she followed Marco, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her.
Rowan watched them go, his heart heavy, his mind spinning.
The waiting room was silent again, but the echoes of his parents’ words lingered, each one like a brand seared into his flesh.
He sank back into the cold plastic chair, his hands shaking as he buried his face in them, his body trembling with rage and fear.
He had no answers, no leads, nothing but the suffocating silence of the hospital and the knowledge that he had failed.. the knowledge that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t make this right.
As he sat there, alone and broken, he vowed that he wouldn’t rest until he found the ones responsible. He would tear apart the city if he had to, burn everything to the ground until the ones who hurt his brother were brought to justice.
His failure would not be the final chapter in this story.
He would make sure of that.
Rowan’s eyes hardened, the storm of emotions in his chest solidifying into a single, unbreakable resolve.
Whatever it took, whoever he had to face, he would not let this go unanswered. He would find them. And when he did, there would be no mercy.