Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "You kept me alive."
He smiled faintly, but it wasn't kind. "That's not protection. That's survival."
The firelight painted gold across his face, catching the scar near his jaw, the sharp line of his cheekbones.
He looked like sin carved into flesh terrifying and heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Why are you like this?" she whispered. "Why do you have to be so…"
"Cold?" he finished, his voice low. "Because warmth gets you killed in my world."
He moved closer. One step. Then another. Until her back met the wall.
Her breath hitched.
"Damian…"
"Do you know what happens when you hesitate?" he murmured, his hand lifting to brush a strand of wet hair from her cheek. "You die."
His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing her jaw. His touch was rough, but his gaze God, his gaze burned.
Her body betrayed her before her mind caught up. She leaned into him, just slightly, drawn like gravity.
The fire cracked louder, thunder rolled outside, and the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them and the storm.
"Say it," he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. "Tell me you trust me."
"I…" Her heart raced. "I don't know if I do."
His thumb brushed her bottom lip, his voice a low growl. "Then you're smarter than most."
But he didn't pull away.
For one suspended heartbeat, the tension twisted into something sharper, tangled with fear, need wrapped in defiance.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She hated how much she wanted him close, even when every part of her screamed she shouldn't.
Then…
A crash shattered the moment. The window exploded inward, glass raining across the floor.
Luca was on his feet instantly, gun raised.
"Down!" he shouted.
Damian yanked Isabella to the floor just as a bullet embedded itself in the wall above where she'd been standing.
"Move!" Damian barked, dragging her behind the couch for cover.
Luca returned fire through the window, his voice tight. "They found us!"
"How?" Damian snarled, his mind racing. "We burned every signal.
"
A second shot tore through the cabin door, splintering wood. Rain poured in, cold and relentless.
"Back exit!" Luca yelled. "We take the ridge!"
Damian grabbed Isabella's wrist, his grip unyielding. "Stay with me, no matter what happens."
She nodded, terrified, breathless. The night outside roared with chaos.
They burst through the back, mud splashing underfoot, bullets slicing the rain. Damian covered her, firing back in short, controlled bursts.
"Go, Bella …run!!!"
She stumbled up the rocky path, the wind screaming, the cliffside only meters away. Luca was ahead, motioning wildly.
Behind them, a voice cut through the storm deep, familiar, venomous.
"Damian!"
Damian froze mid-step, blood draining from his face.
Antonio.
The man's silhouette stood at the edge of the clearing, gun raised, flanked by armed guards.
And beside him Marco.
Lightning illuminated their faces, betrayal gleaming cold and final.
Damian's grip on Isabella tightened.
"Don't look back," he said.
"Damian.."
He pushed her forward, eyes locked on the man who'd once been his ally, now aiming to end him.
The next gunshot rang out and the world went white.
The world returned in fragments, sound before sight, pain before memory.
A voice echoed somewhere distant, sharp and urgent, then fading again into the roar of rain.
Isabella's eyelids fluttered open, her vision swimming in shadows and motion. She was lying on something soft, no, not soft. Cold metal.
The faint hum of an engine vibrated beneath her.
Her chest ached. Every breath burned like she'd swallowed glass.
"Easy."
A hand pressed against her shoulder, steadying her as she tried to rise. The voice was familiar.
"Luca…" she rasped.
He exhaled with visible relief. "You're awake."
Her gaze darted around, trying to piece together what she was seeing.
The walls were lined with steel. A single light flickered above. The floor shifted with each bump.
A van. They were moving.
"What…" her voice cracked."What happened? Where's Damian?"
Luca's jaw clenched. He looked away.
"Shot grazed his side," he said finally. "We got out before they closed in. He's alive."
"Alive?" she repeated, the word trembling between disbelief and desperate hope.
He nodded, but there was something guarded in his eyes. Something she didn't trust.
"Where is he now?"
"In the back." Luca hesitated, then added quietly, "He told me to keep you safe."
Her pulse quickened. "Take me to him."
"Isabella, you should rest.."
"Luca," she cut in, her tone sharper than she intended. "Take me. Now."
For a long second, Luca didn't move. Then he sighed and shifted aside.
The van's rear compartment was darker, the air heavy with the scent of blood and gunpowder.
Damian sat on a makeshift bench, shirt torn open, his abdomen wrapped in a field bandage already stained through. His skin looked ghostly in the dim light.
Her breath hitched. "Oh God…"
He looked up when she spoke. Despite the blood and exhaustion clouding his eyes, he still managed a faint smirk. "You look worse than I do."
Tears stung her eyes. "You're bleeding…"
"I've had worse." His voice was low, rough. "You're safe. That's what matters."
"Safe?" she whispered, her hands trembling as she crouched in front of him. "Damian, they knew where we were. That wasn't random."
His jaw tightened. "I know."
"Then how?"
He hesitated a beat too long. The answer was there, written in the shadow behind his gaze but he didn't say it.
Her voice broke. "It was him, wasn't it? My father."
He said nothing. And that silence was louder than any confirmation could have been.
The van swerved sharply, sending her off balance. Damian caught her wrist with surprising strength, pulling her against his chest.
The sudden closeness stole her breath, the heat of his body, the faint tremor of pain beneath his control.
"Don't," he murmured, his mouth near her ear. "Don't cry for him. He made his choice."
"But he's my father," she whispered. "He's still.."
"He sold you," Damian cut in, his voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "And now he's trying to finish what he started."
Her throat closed. The truth felt like poison sliding down her spine.
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You need to understand something, Bella. Whatever comes next… there's no going back."
She swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. The storm outside had quieted, but the tension between them only grew louder.
His hand still cradled her face, rough thumb brushing her skin like he didn't realize he was touching her.
"You're in this now," he said. "And I'll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Even if it's him."
Her breath hitched. "You mean that, don't you?"
"Yes." A ghost of something softer flickered in his eyes. "And that's the problem."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The hum of the engine filled the silence. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, strong, stubborn, alive.
Then the van slowed. Luca's voice came from the front. "We're here."
Isabella glanced at Damian. "Where's here?"
"Safe house," he said, his voice low. "Off-grid. No one knows it exists but me."
"And Luca."
A faint smile tugged at Damian's mouth. "Luca doesn't count."
He tried to stand but winced, blood seeping through the fresh bandage. She caught him before he could fall, her small frame barely supporting him.
"Don't be an idiot," she muttered. "You're hurt."
"And you talk too much," he murmured, but his hand came up to steady himself on her shoulder.
The van doors opened to a stretch of forest drenched in silver moonlight. A stone house loomed ahead, half-hidden by overgrown vines and mist.
Damian glanced at it once, his eyes dark. "Welcome to hell's vacation home."
She managed a shaky smile. "Comforting."
They stepped inside together.
The house was silent, too silent. Dust clung to the furniture, and the faint scent of disuse filled the air. But underneath it all was something else, something faintly familiar.
Isabella froze. "Damian… this place…"
He turned, confused. "What about it?"
She stared at the painting above the fireplace, the same crest carved into her father's study wall. The Romano crest.
Her heart stopped.
"Damian," she whispered, backing up. "Why does my family's mark hang in your safe house?"
He looked at her then, truly looked and for the first time, she saw it: the flicker of guilt.
Her voice trembled. "What have you done?"
Before he could answer, the front door slammed shut behind them.
And outside, the crunch of tires on gravel announced that they were not alone.