Chapter 3 Double Trouble

Sia's POV

The silence between us stretched on for what felt like forever. The cold iron table between us seemed to widen the distance, though it was barely an arm's length. My wrists were bound, the cuffs biting into my skin, but I barely noticed the discomfort. The weight of all that had passed between us-everything left unsaid, unresolved-hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Rowan sat across from me, his face pale and drawn, eyes glassy with exhaustion. He didn't look at me, just stared at the floor, his hands resting limply on the table as if he didn't know what to do with them. The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound, punctuating the suffocating tension between us.

My heart hammered in my chest, a battle raging within me-anger, betrayal, sadness, and something else I wasn't ready to admit. The emotions collided inside me, and I fought to keep them under control. But as much as I wanted to keep my composure, the silence was too much.

Suddenly, Rowan let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh, catching me completely off guard. I turned to him, blinking, unsure of what was happening. He was laughing-laughing while tears pooled in his eyes. It was a sound I hadn't heard from him in years, but it wasn't joyful. It was hollow.

I couldn't help it. My own tears welled up, and before I knew it, I was laughing too-tears streaming down my face as my shoulders shook with the absurdity of it all. There we were, broken, accused, and torn apart, and yet we were laughing.

"What are we even doing here?" I whispered, wiping at my face, though the tears kept falling. My words were barely audible between the laughter.

Rowan looked at me, still chuckling through his tears. "I have no idea," he admitted, shaking his head.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I slapped him. Hard. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. Rowan recoiled, his hand flying to his cheek, his eyes wide in shock.

"Okay," he said, wincing as he rubbed his reddening face. "I deserved that."

"You think?" I snapped, standing up abruptly, kicking my chair back. It toppled over, the metal clanging loudly against the floor. I stood over him, my hands clenched into fists, trembling with anger. "You son of a bitch, what the hell do you want from me? Did you think acting all guilty and sad would make me feel sorry for you?"

"Sia, listen-"

"No!" I shouted, cutting him off. "You don't get to speak! You let them take me! You let these FBI bastards arrest me and drag my name through the mud. You knew I was innocent, and you didn't do a damn thing to stop it!" My voice cracked, and the rage that had been simmering boiled over. I leaned across the table, my eyes burning with fury. "You let them break me."

Rowan tried to speak again, his voice soft, broken. "I know, and I-"

"I'm not finished!" I slammed my hand down on the table, making him flinch. "If I'm such a dangerous murderer, as they say, what's stopping me from killing you right now?" In a surge of anger, my hands shot toward his neck, wrapping around his throat. I squeezed, my breathing heavy, my heart racing.

Rowan didn't resist. He didn't fight back. "Nothing," he whispered, his voice barely a rasp.

I froze. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I saw the pain in his eyes-the same pain that mirrored my own. Slowly, my grip on his neck loosened, and I stepped back, breathing hard, my hands shaking as I let him go.

He rubbed his neck, wincing. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice strained, raw. "I should have believed you. I let my pride and fear get in the way."

"You're damn right you should've," I muttered, running a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth. My fury was still there, but it was mingling with something else now-a deep, suffocating sadness. "I trusted you, Rowan. I trusted you, and you let me down."

Rowan stood slowly, his eyes pleading. "I know. I've failed you over and over again. But please, I need you to hear me out."

I hesitated, my chest heaving, my mind screaming at me to walk away, but something held me there. "Fine. Speak."

"I don't have much time," Rowan began, his voice thick with emotion. "They're going to take you away soon, and I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. But I need to know the truth, Sia. The FBI claims you're responsible for Rachel's kidnapping and murder, but I don't believe that. I know you didn't do it, but... how did the murder and the kidnapping happen at the same time?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning. He didn't know the full story-hell, no one did. Not even the FBI. I hadn't told them everything, couldn't trust them. But maybe Rowan deserved the truth.

I glanced around, scanning the room for any hidden cameras, anything that might be recording us. Satisfied, I leaned in, lowering my voice. "There's something I didn't tell the FBI," I whispered, my eyes darting toward the door. "I saw something-a logo. It was on the equipment they used, the uniforms. It said BPO."

"BPO?" Rowan repeated, frowning. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," I admitted, shaking my head. "But it's connected to Rachel's disappearance, I'm sure of it. There's more going on here than we realize."

Before Rowan could respond, the door creaked open, and Agent Smith stepped inside, his eyes cold and calculating. "Time's up," he said, nodding to the agents behind him.

They moved toward me, taking hold of my arms to lead me away. Rowan stood, panic flashing in his eyes. "I'll get you out of this, Sia. I promise."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. As they dragged me away, I glanced back one last time, my eyes meeting Rowan's. There was so much left unsaid, so much left undone, but for now, all I had was the cold iron cuffs cutting into my wrists and the creak of the door as it slammed shut behind me.