Chapter 20 #2
Lena’s focus jumps between us, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
“I canceled it,” Rowan says, as if announcing a change in dinner plans rather than the elimination of weeks of preparation.
“You what?”
“Canceled it.” He turns to rinse his mug in the sink, his back to me. “The risk-reward ratio wasn’t favorable.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “That’s not your call.”
“Actually, it is.” Water runs over his hands, the sound loud in the tense kitchen. “You need recovery time after your Heat. The job can wait.”
“I don’t need recovery time.” My volume rises despite my efforts to contain it. “I’ve worked in worse condition than this.”
Rowan shuts off the water and grabs a towel to dry off as he turns to me. “That was before. This is now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heat climbs my neck, different from the fever of days past. Anger, rather than need.
Lena slides off her stool, edging toward the hallway. “I should go study…”
“No,” I say, at the same time Rowan says, “Yes.”
We stare at each other, the challenge hanging between us.
Lena hesitates, caught in our power struggle, before grabbing her backpack and disappearing down the hall. As her bedroom door closes, it snaps the leash on my anger.
“You had no right to cancel the Harmon job.” I step closer to Rowan. “We’ve spent weeks planning. The timing is crucial.”
“I had every right.” Rowan crosses his arms over his chest, his stance widening. “You’re still recovering. Your reflexes are compromised, and your focus is shot.”
“Don’t tell me what I can handle.” The coffee churns in my stomach, turning to bitter acid. “I understand my limits better than you do.”
“Do you?” His eyebrows lift. “Because from where I stand, you’ve been pushing past reasonable limits for years.”
The truth in his assessment only fuels my anger. “That’s not your concern.”
“It is when it affects the job.” His voice hardens, the easy warmth from earlier evaporating. “I won’t risk an operation because you refuse to acknowledge physical limitations.”
“So what, you get to unilaterally decide?” My nails bite into palms, the pain grounding my anger. “Without consulting me? Without even telling me?”
“I made a judgment call.”
“A judgment call.” I laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet kitchen. “And when were you planning to inform me? After my Heat ended? Tomorrow, when I showed up ready to work? Or were you hoping I just wouldn’t notice the files were gone?”
Rowan’s jaw tightens. “I was going to tell you today, once you’d had time to recover.”
“Bullshit.” The word cracks between us like a whip. “You knew I’d fight you on this.”
“Yes,” he admits, “which is why I made the decision while you were in no condition to argue.”
The betrayal cuts deeper than I expected, slicing through the warm haze left by days in his bed, in his arms, lost to Heat and need and the illusion of a real partnership.
“Well, put it back on the schedule,” I insist, grasping for compromise. “Tomorrow. The day after at the latest. Our window will close when the security rotation changes, and we’ll have to start all over again.”
“No.” The single syllable drops between us. “Not until you’re at full capacity. That’s final.”
The fragile trust building between us shatters, destroying the fantasy that I was anything more than another asset in Rowan’s carefully managed world.
“You don’t get to decide for me.” I tremble with the effort to stay in control. “This isn’t only about the job. This is about Lena’s safety.”
“Which is why we’re not rushing in half-prepared.” Rowan steps closer, his height forcing me to tilt my head to maintain eye contact. “My responsibility is to ensure every operation succeeds. That includes protecting my people from unnecessary risks.”
“Your people.” The words sour in my mouth. “Is that what I am now? One of your people?”
His stare hardens. “When it comes to business, you’re my employee. I’m your boss. What happens with the job is my decision.”
The statement slaps through all my soft feelings toward him with stunning clarity. All this time, I’ve been fooling myself, believing in partnership, in equality, in mutual respect. But when push comes to shove, the truth emerges.
I work for him. I sleep in his bed. I eat his food. And at the end of the day, he calls the shots.
“I see,” I say flatly. “Thanks for the clarification.”
I turn and stride down the hall to Lena’s room, pushing open her door. “Pack your things, Lena. We’re leaving.”
Lena’s mouth drops open in shock. “What? Why?”
Surprise breaks through Rowan’s composed facade. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re overreacting.”
“Am I?” My lips curve without warmth. “You’re my boss. This is your home. We use your car. Everything belongs to you, including the decisions. I get it now.”
“That’s not what I meant.” His hand reaches for me, but I step back, maintaining distance.
“It’s exactly what you meant.” I leave Lena’s open door to stride back to the kitchen and grab a trash bag from under the sink. “You’ve made it crystal clear where we stand. Boss and employee. Not partners. Not equals.”
Rowan’s nostrils flare, his pheromones shifting toward aggression before he reins himself in. “You and Lena are safer here.”
“At what cost?” The question punches out of me, loaded with all the things I’ve swallowed down since moving into his space. “Safety isn’t worth the price of surrendering control of our lives.”
“Is that what you think I want?” He grips the countertop. “Control over you?”
“I think you want ownership without calling it ownership.” The accusation spills out, fueled by hurt I bury under anger. “You want me in your bed, wearing your Mark, following your orders, dependent on your generosity, until I have nowhere else to go.”
His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “What do you want, Ash? Have you ever asked yourself? Or have you spent your entire life running from anyone who might care about you?”
The question lands like a blow, and I have no answer that doesn’t expose the raw, frightened core of me. No response that doesn’t reveal how desperately I want what he offers, and how terrified I am to accept it.
So instead, I attack.
“I want a partner, not a handler. I want respect, not management.” The control I fight for slips, each sentence coming out louder than the last. “I want someone who views me as an equal, not a project to fix or an asset to deploy.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Rowan’s face darkens. “Fixing you? Deploying you?”
“I think you’re trying to buy me,” I hiss, the words poisonous as they leave my lips. “With your money and your protection and your perfect fucking home. I think you want to own me without the inconvenience of my independence.”
Lena appears in the hallway, hugging her elbows. “What’s happening?”
“Get your things,” I repeat, not taking my attention off Rowan. “We’re leaving.”
Lena steps all the way into the kitchen, her new boots clicking on the tile floor. “But why? What’s going on?”
“We’re going back to our apartment. The window’s been fixed, so it’s time for us to go home,” I say in a tone that brooks no argument.
“No.” She plants herself beside Rowan, crossing her arms over her chest, the gold threads in her new sweater glinting. “I don’t want to leave.”
“This isn’t a democracy, Lena,” I say, a coldness in my voice that surprises even me. “We’re leaving.”
“But I like it here.” Her chin lifts in defiance, a mirror of my own stubborn stance. “I feel safe here. My grades are better. I’m sleeping through the night without waking up to gunshots or sirens. Why would we go back?”
“Because I said so,” I snap.
Lena’s bottom lip wobbles before she spins on her heel. “I hate you!”
“Hate me while you pack!” I shove past Rowan and pause at her door, holding out one of the trash bags. “Only bring what you brought with you. We don’t need charity.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she stomps to her dresser. “Why are you ruining this for us?”
Her disappointment hurts, and there’s a part of me that questions how this is different from Rowan making a unilateral decision for me.
But the sticking point is that Lena is still a child, and I’m not.
I’m the person responsible for ensuring she grows up better adjusted than I had the chance to be.
And I don’t have it in me to explain to her that we’re leaving because I’m falling for Rowan, and I’m no longer sure I can trust him to have our best interests at heart.
“Ten minutes,” I tell her, softer now that she’s moving. “If we hurry, we can catch the bus.”
Rowan follows me to his bedroom and stands in the doorway as I start stuffing my meager belongings into the trash bag I kept for myself.
“This is a mistake,” he says, stripped of his usual confidence. “It was just business. It has nothing to do with us.”
“If you were really treating me as an employee, my Heat wouldn’t have factored into your decision.” I head into the closet. “You would have based your decisions on my skills alone. You let our personal life affect your business, so now we’re done having a personal life.”
I shove the last of my clothes into the bag. The guard Rowan gave me remains on my neck, but only until I can get myself a replacement. Then I’ll return it. I won’t take anything from him that could be leveraged to draw me back here.
When I return to the living room with my backpack of electronics and trash bag, Lena waits by the front door, her own belongings at her feet. She’s stopped crying, her face now blank, emotions tucked away behind the mask of compliance I taught her to wear in dangerous situations.
Guilt twists in my gut at the sight, but I push it aside for later examination.
Rowan stands at the kitchen island, his posture rigid. “At least take the car service. It’s snowing.”
“We’ll manage.” The words come out clipped. “We always have.”
His jaw tightens as he bites back whatever argument he wants to make. Finally, he nods once, a sharp jerk of his head that concedes the battle while promising the war isn’t over.
“The door will be open when you’re ready to come back,” he says, his certainty scraping my nerves raw.
“Don’t hold your breath.” Bag in one hand, I cross to join Lena at the door. My hand finds the small of her back, guiding her forward as I have since she was small enough to carry.
We step into the hallway without looking back, the door closing behind us with a soft click. The elevator arrives with a cheerful ding that mocks the heaviness between us.
Inside, Lena stares at her reflection as if trying to memorize the version of herself who gets to be safe, and it guts me.
I would do anything for Lena. I have.
I’ve stolen, bled, starved, swallowed pride until it choked me.
But I can’t give her this.
“Us staying here was never supposed to be permanent,” I tell her, the words sounding hollow to my own ears.
She doesn’t respond, her silence more damning than any argument could be.
As the elevator drops, Rowan’s scent clings to my skin like a brand, and my body aches with the memory of his hands.
I want him so much it’s turned me stupid.
And that’s why I have to leave.
Because the second someone else starts deciding my life for me, it stops being mine.
Lena deserves a brother, not a man who traded his self-worth for a safer zip code.
I’m right to leave, even if it strips the air from my chest. But as we step outside, I know Rowan is also right.
This isn’t over between us.