Rowan Blanchard Still Here Novels & Stories

He doesn’t look like a man who takes back his word easily. At the end, my stepfather wasn’t able to do anything to change Alpha Rowan’s mind. I can sense their stares at my back as I’m guided outside the station, and they are probably thinking of many ways to kill me. It didn’t give me comfort, but somehow, walking out of death, it rekindled that small hope in me. I was a little relieved. “At the back seat, Orion,” Alpha Rowan interrupted when the man named Orion opened the front seat to let me in.

Rebecca heard this address of Kaytly Blanche and was astounded as if she had heard some strange news in the world, and then, she raised a cold smile. "Mother? Rowan doesn't have a mother, since that woman left him, from that moment on, his mother has also died."

Kael was the last to step out, Still slightly unstable, Still bruised…Still pretending he wasn’t. And immediately, Duncan’s gaze locked onto him. Heavy. Silent. Not angry, Just… calculating I think. Rowan spoke first.“Ky left.” That made me pause.“Left?” I repeated. Rowan nodded once. “Said she had unfinished business. Then disappeared. Actually I think her girlfriend called.” Oh! She had a girlfriend already. That's nice, she has moved on. Mira groaned. “Of course she did.” Alice sighed. “That woman never stays anywhere long enough to heal emotionally.”

She felt like she had stepped into something already in motion. And she didn’t yet know— What her role in it was. ***** Upstairs— Rowan stood by the window. Watching the street below. Unmoving. An assistant stepped in quietly. “She’s home.” “I know.” A pause. “The media will continue coverage.” “Let them.” Another pause. “And Mr. Sterling?” That— That made him still for a fraction of a second. Then— “Leave him where he is.” Calm. Final. The assistant nodded and left.

This time, it was a call. Rowan. I ignored it. Then he texted: “Turn on the news. Channel 6.” I blinked. My remote was already on the couch. I picked it up with trembling fingers and switched the TV on. There he was. Rowan, in a navy suit, standing behind a podium. A press conference? What the hell was he doing? “I’d like to make a statement,” he said, voice clear, steady. “Regarding the malicious rumors being spread about Ivy Sharp.”

“You've grieved enough, don’t you think?” Rowan's eyes darted away, the air was tense. Actually, he was a little tired of Sloane’s lectures every day. She sees him with a woman—either discussing pack affairs or even business. Since the death of his wife, she's been pushing him to find another partner, but he keeps refusing. She has also set up blind dates for him a couple of times, and he had declined. The ones he didn't decline were the ones he didn't realize she had set up until he showed up and discovered it was a blind date.

Dorian and I exchanged a glance, weary, exhausted, but victorious—for now. Bryan groaned, stirring from unconsciousness. Relief washed through me, but I knew Rowan’s threat was far from over. He would come back, and the next time, there would be no room for error. I stood, shoulders squared, energy still coiling within me. “We’ve got her,” I said quietly, voice steady despite the storm inside. “But Rowan… he’s not done. Not by a long shot.” And somewhere in the darkness, I felt him watching, waiting, already planning his next move.

That was pretty much normal, but he usually didn't take anything seriously, so his words made Rowan tense up in his chair. "What?!" Rowan snapped at him. He was tired from last night, and he couldn't get Adriana out of his mind. The mind link between them had been a welcome surprise, and it was taking all of his self-control not to ask her how she was doing. "Stacy is here." Rowan froze. "Wasn't she supposed to be gone until the end of her semester? December?" "I don't know, man. All I know is I saw her family near the bus stop and I lingered around to see what they were waiting for until a long-distance bus came to a halt and she stepped down."

He just couldn’t see it yet. Later that afternoon, Octavia was finishing her rounds at the hospital when she saw a familiar face waiting near the nurses’ station. Rowan stood there, looking calmer than she had seen him in months. He had lost some weight, but his eyes were clearer. “Rowan,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?” Rowan gave her a small, tired smile. “I came to see you. Do you have a few minutes?” Octavia glanced at her watch. “I have a short break. Let’s go to the lounge.”

Rowan at the End Rowan died in the second month of the thirteenth year. Not dramatically — the specific quiet of a man who had been in declining health for six months and who had continued doing his work with the particular stubbornness of someone who had decided that his work was the right way to spend the time he had.