Rowan POV

The gym was nearly empty, the heavy silence only broken by the rhythmic sound of the punching bag swinging back and forth. I threw another punch, sweat dripping down my forehead as my knuckles hit the canvas. The burn in my muscles was a welcome distraction from everything swirling in my head—Killian’s resignation, Sasha’s betrayal, Rose leaving. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. 

Suddenly, the shrill sound of an alarm blared through the room. Bret, my right-hand man—or, more accurately, the guy who refused to shut up—looked up from his laptop, startled. 

“Pack up!” Bret shouted, tossing me a shotgun. His voice was panicked as...