Another Person
"Your enemies," I said.
Rowan chuckled, the sound rough but amused. “How are you so sure it’s not yours?”
I hesitated.
He had a point.
I’d made enemies, too—powerful ones. People who didn’t want me succeeding, who saw my medical research as a threat to their monopolies. But sabotage? A plane crash? That was a different level entirely.
I sighed. “I don’t have enemies this powerful.”
Rowan gave me a look. “You don’t know that.”
I wanted to argue, but the truth sat heavy between us. We didn’t know anything.
The fire crackled as the rain pounded outside, sealing us in this small cave with too many questions and no answers.
I shifted, adjusting my weight. My ribs ached.
Rowan frowned, his sharp eyes flicking over me. “You’re still hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Let me see.”
I opened my mouth to refuse, but then he moved.
A sharp inhale left his lips as he adjusted himself, struggling to sit up properly. His wound must have been killing him.
I glared at him. “You shouldn’t be moving.”
He smirked, but it was weak. “You’re avoiding the subject.”
I exhaled. “Rowan—”
“Let me help you, Remi.”
His voice was softer this time, more serious.
I hesitated.
Then, slowly, I lifted my shirt just enough to expose the deep bruising along my ribs.
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Jesus.”
“It looks worse than it feels,” I lied.
His fingers brushed the bruised skin, gentle but firm as he pressed along my ribs, checking for breaks.
I sucked in a breath, my body tensing.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured.
His fingers moved lower, tracing the edge of the worst bruise.
I swallowed hard. “It’s fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it. “You should clean up.”
I raised a brow. “Oh, should I?”
Rowan smirked. “You smell like you fought a bear.”
I rolled my eyes. “You fought the bear, Vaughn.”
“And yet, I still smell better.”
I scoffed, standing carefully. My muscles ached, my head still light from everything that had happened, but I needed something to make me feel human again.
Rowan tilted his head toward the small stream in the back of the cave. “Water’s clean. Cold as hell, though.”
I sighed. “Great.”
I grabbed a torn piece of fabric from what was left of my shirt and dipped it into the water. It was freezing, but it would do.
As I wiped the dirt and dried blood from my arms, I felt Rowan’s gaze on me.
“What?” I muttered without looking at him.
He leaned his head back against the wall. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Thinking about?”
“How we’re alive.”
I paused.
Yeah. That was a pretty big miracle.
I wrung out the cloth, running it over the back of my neck. The cold sent a shiver down my spine.
Rowan smirked. “Cold?”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
I finished quickly, not wanting to waste time. When I turned back, Rowan was watching me again.
I arched a brow. “Something on your mind, Vaughn?”
He exhaled. “Yeah. How the hell we’re supposed to get through the night without freezing to death.”
I sighed. “That’s a good question.”
The fire was still burning, but the temperature was dropping fast. The cave wasn’t completely sealed, and the wind was slipping through the cracks in the rock, making the air sharp.
Rowan gestured to the ground beside him. “Come here.”
I hesitated. “Why?”
He gave me a look. “Body heat, Doctor. Basic survival.”
I folded my arms. “You just want an excuse to get close to me.”
Rowan grinned. “I’m injured. Are you really going to deny me warmth?”
I rolled my eyes, but fine. Fine.
I sat beside him, carefully avoiding his wound.
The warmth of his body was immediate.
And distracting.
I stared at the fire, my arms wrapped around myself, willing my heartbeat to calm the hell down.
Rowan shifted slightly. “Comfortable?”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled, low and quiet.
Silence settled again, but this time, it wasn’t awkward.
It was something else.
Something that made my skin tingle and my breath slow.
After a long moment, Rowan murmured, “We’ll get out of this.”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”
And for some reason, I believed him.
****
The first thing I noticed was the warmth.
Not the fire, not the cave—him.
Rowan’s arm was heavy over my waist, his body pressed against mine, solid and warm. My head was resting against his chest, rising and falling with his slow, steady breaths.
For a moment, I just lay there, my mind caught between sleep and reality.
Then it hit me.
Oh my God.
I tensed.
Rowan stirred, his grip tightening slightly before he froze. His breath changed, his muscles stiffening as realization set in.
Then—
“You’re awake,” he murmured. His voice was rough with sleep, low and deep.
I swallowed. “So are you.”
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us said anything.
Then, thankfully, Rowan sat up first, stretching his arms with a groan. His movement snapped me out of whatever spell I’d been under, and I scrambled to put distance between us.
“Feeling better?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound normal.
He rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers. “Yeah. A hell of a lot better.”
That much was obvious.
His color had returned, his posture stronger. He still had healing to do, but he wasn’t the weak, half-conscious man from yesterday.
“We should find a way out of here,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t wait for someone to come to us.”
I sighed. “I figured you’d say that.”
Rowan smirked. “You know me so well.”
I rolled my eyes, but truthfully?
I was glad he was strong enough to fight again.
Because we needed to get out of here.
I stood, brushing dirt off my legs, while Rowan stretched, testing his mobility. He was still stiff, but he moved with purpose now, no longer sluggish or weak.
“We need a plan,” I said, glancing toward the cave entrance. “First, we should send out an SOS.”
Rowan nodded. “Agreed. But there’s one problem.”
I frowned. “What?”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have no idea where we are.”
My stomach tightened. “You mean—”
“I mean, I’ve been on plenty of private flights. I know most of the common emergency landing sites. This?” He gestured to the dense jungle beyond the cave. “This isn’t any of them.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“So we’re completely off-course?” I asked.
“Looks like it.”
I inhaled sharply.
No GPS. No clear idea where we’d crashed. Just endless trees and nothing else.
I glanced at the sky, watching as the morning sun fought through the thick clouds.
“Okay,” I said, thinking fast. “We need to find high ground. Somewhere we can get a better view. Maybe even spot the wreckage.”
Rowan nodded. “And we should check for supplies. If there’s wreckage, there might be something useful.”
The thought sent a new wave of unease through me.
Because if there was wreckage… there were bodies.
I swallowed hard. “Let’s go.”
—
We walked in silence, Rowan slightly ahead of me. His movements were slower than usual, but his focus was sharp, his eyes scanning every inch of our surroundings.
The jungle was eerily quiet, except for the occasional rustling of leaves. No voices. No distant hum of an engine.
Just us.
We climbed over fallen branches, moved past thick vegetation, our bodies already slick with sweat from the humid air.
Then—
The smell hit me first.
I gagged, covering my mouth as the stench of burnt metal and decay filled my lungs.
Rowan went rigid beside me.
Slowly, we stepped forward, pushing through the final layer of trees—
And there it was.
The wreckage.
Or what was left of it.
Twisted metal, shattered glass, torn seats. Flames had burned through most of it, leaving behind blackened debris.
And scattered among the wreckage—
Bodies.
Some still strapped to their seats, others thrown against trees, limbs bent at unnatural angles.
My stomach lurched.
Rowan let out a quiet curse, his hands clenching at his sides.
I forced myself to breathe. To move.
“We need to check for supplies,” I said, my voice hollow.
Rowan didn’t respond at first. Then he exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”
We stepped forward, the air thick with the scent of death. I tried not to look at the bodies, but it was impossible.
These were people.
People who had been alive just yesterday.
I clenched my jaw, blinking back the burn of tears.
Survive first. Process later.
Rowan moved toward a half-burnt suitcase, kicking it open. “Water bottles,” he muttered. “A few snacks.”
I found a torn medical bag, half its contents destroyed. “Painkillers. Bandages. Some alcohol wipes.”
We worked in silence, gathering anything useful.
But no radio. No emergency flare.
Nothing to call for help.
I exhaled shakily, turning back toward Rowan—
And then I saw it.
A body.
But not one of the passengers.
This man was different.
Dressed in black tactical gear, a weapon still strapped to his belt.
Not a flight attendant. Not a businessman.
Something else.
Someone else.
I turned to Rowan, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Rowan… who the hell is this?”
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