Remembering Things
“I said no.”
She stepped back, realizing he wasn’t just angry. He was breaking.
His hands trembled slightly as he opened his drawer and pulled out a small black case. Inside was a pistol—licensed, legal, and untouched for years.
Until now.
He clicked it open. Checked the magazine. Loaded.
Jo swallowed. “You think she’s still alive?”
He looked up. Cold. Focused. “She has to be.”
Rowan turned back to the monitor, watching the footage again, this time slowing it frame by frame. There was a tiny detail—the glint of a bracelet on the man wearing his face. A watch. One Rowan had seen before.
“Freeze,” he ordered.
Callum obeyed.
“There. Zoom in on his wrist.”
They did.
A leather strap. Worn edges. Roman numerals.
Rowan stared.
“That’s Gigi’s bodyguard,” he said quietly. “He wore that watch the night of the gala.”
Callum’s jaw tightened. “You sure?”
“I don’t forget watches.”
Jo swore under her breath.
Rowan paced. “She’s been quiet for too long. No threats. No scandals. Just… silence. And now Remi’s gone?”
“You think Gigi planned this?”
“I think she’s been planning this for a while.”
The phone rang. Rowan grabbed it.
“Sir,” Alexander’s voice came through. “We picked up a heat signal fifteen miles south of the city. Warehouse. Abandoned. Matches the route from your street cameras. We’ve got a team en route.”
“Send me the coordinates.”
He hung up and looked at Callum.
“I’m going.”
“You’re not supposed to—”
“I said I’m going.”
Jo stepped in front of him. “Rowan. If this is a trap—”
“Then I’ll walk into it with my eyes open.”
Callum grabbed his gear. “I’m going with you.”
Rowan nodded.
He gave Jo one last look. “Stay with the kids. Lock every door. If anything feels off—call security. Don’t hesitate.”
“I won’t.”
And then he was gone. Into the SUV. Into the night. Into the firestorm he knew was coming.
Because if Remi was hurt—God help whoever laid a finger on her.
The convoy moved like a bullet through the city, engines growling, tires screeching as Rowan gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. The streets blurred past in a storm of lights and motion. Drivers swerved out of the way. Horns blasted. Callum sat beside him, armed and stone-faced, coordinating over comms with the other blacked-out SUVs trailing behind.
“ETA two minutes,” Callum said, not even blinking.
Rowan’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t think straight. He felt like he was vibrating, like something inside him was trying to break out.
“She’s strong,” Callum said quietly, watching him.
Rowan didn’t respond. He stared ahead, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Then—
“Sir,” came the voice over the comm. “We found the vehicle. Black sedan. Abandoned quarry road. One mile ahead.”
Rowan's pulse spiked. He leaned forward. “You said abandoned?”
“Yes, sir. But the car's still moving.”
His head whipped toward Callum. “Still—what do you mean still moving?”
The driver suddenly shouted, “It’s rolling! No driver—it's coasting!”
The SUV jerked violently as they made the turn. Gravel flew. The headlights caught it.
A car.
Black. Sleek. Rolling slowly down an incline. And ahead, at the edge of the slope—nothing but open air and jagged rocks.
A cliff.
“Oh God,” Rowan whispered.
He didn’t wait.
Before the SUV even fully stopped, he threw the door open and bolted. Feet pounding the earth. The cold air slicing against his face. Shouts echoed behind him but he didn’t stop, didn’t breathe, didn’t think.
He ran straight for the car.
The tires were still turning.
He launched forward, grabbed the handle.
Locked.
He slammed his fist against the window. “Remi!”
Through the glass, he saw her.
She was slumped in the back seat, motionless. Hands bound. Face pale. Hair across her face. She looked so small.
“Remi!” he roared again.
The car picked up speed.
No time.
Rowan stepped back, took a breath—and dived.
The front windshield cracked under the weight of his shoulder. It didn’t break fully—but it was enough to stun him. Pain exploded down his arm, but he didn’t care. He scrambled, kicked, forced the door open from the inside. The car jolted as it hit a dip in the road, but he didn’t let go.
“Remi—Remi, wake up!”
He climbed over the seat, reaching her just as the car tilted slightly to the left. Time was running out.
She didn’t move.
The edge was seconds away.
Rowan hooked his arm under her body and yanked. The belt was cutting across her lap—he fumbled, tugged at it, cursed. Finally, it clicked loose.
The wind outside roared like a monster.
He kicked the side door open. The car tilted further. The cliff yawned ahead.
And then—with everything he had—he jumped.
They hit the ground hard. He twisted his body, taking the brunt of the fall so she wouldn’t. Pain flared through his back and shoulder, the wind knocked clean out of him. Dirt filled his mouth. But he didn’t let go of her.
The car didn’t stop.
It rolled.
Off the cliff.
And vanished into the darkness.
A beat later, there was a distant explosion—an echo of metal crashing against rock.
Rowan lay there, holding her.
His chest heaved as he pushed himself up. “Remi. Remi—baby, please—”
She stirred. Barely. Her lashes fluttered.
“Rowan?” her voice was faint, slurred. “Why... is your face all blurry?”
He let out a shaky laugh, half-cough. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Footsteps pounded toward them. Callum and a few men dropped to their knees beside them.
“We’ve got her,” one said. “We need a medic. Now.”
“Already called in,” Callum said, eyes scanning her body for injuries. “She hit her head.”
“I don’t care if I have to carry her on foot,” Rowan said, rising with her still in his arms. “I’m not letting go.”
Callum held his gaze. “That wasn’t a warning, Rowan. That was a message.”
Rowan stared at the cliff edge. The fire below was flickering, distant, like hell itself opened up to swallow the car.
“They wanted her dead.”
Callum nodded. “They sent a body double with your face to take her. Then they sent a runaway car toward a cliff. Someone’s trying to erase her.”
Rowan looked down at the woman in his arms. Her breath was shallow, her face bruised. But she was alive.
And he swore—on everything—he’d burn the world down before letting anyone touch her again.
“Find out who’s behind this,” he growled. “And bring them to me alive.”
Callum’s expression darkened. “Understood.”
The sirens wailed in the distance.
But Rowan barely heard them.
His eyes were locked on Remi.
Still holding her like if he let go, she might disappear again.
Her breathing was soft, too soft, her skin pale and cold. The paramedics moved quickly, atta
ching monitors and setting up the stretcher, but Rowan refused to hand her over at first. They had to convince him she’d be safe. That he could ride in the ambulance too. Only then did he let go—barely.
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