Sherman
Three days. No Rooney. No trace. Not even a damn scent trail.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the hell out of watching his face—and Zack’s—plastered across every news channel and headline in the country.
My phone had been buzzing like a dying wasp nest ever since.
Reporters clawing for quotes, business associates pretending to “check in" while really just sniffing for gossip like bloodhounds in suits.
I'd dumped the whole mess on my security team with simple instructions: keep it vague, reveal nothing.
*They can all go to hell,* Leo growled inside me. *Our family's safety is what matters.*
My world had shrunk down to a single screen—the grainy hospital monitor mounted on my desk, displaying a live feed of Silvia holding Orion in the recovery room
