Isabella's point of view
The wind bit at my face as we emerged into the open night. Clara had led us through a crumbling tunnel hidden under the estate, an old smuggler's route Leonardo never bothered to seal because he believed no one would ever dare leave him.
He was wrong, who would want to
The cold slapped against my skin, but I didn't care. My son stirred beneath the folds of my sweater where I'd hidden him, his tiny hands brushing against my chest. I tightened my grip and glanced at Clara, who was breathing hard, her shoulder bleeding from a graze I hadn't even seen during our run.
"We're not safe yet," she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "There's an outer fence, electrified. And the patrols... they won't stop. Once they realize you're gone—"
"I'm going back."
Clara stopped dead in her tracks. "No."
