"You saved me," he said quietly, as if it stunned him more than the bullet.
"Don't talk," she whispered. "You'll make it worse."
He gave her a faint, bloody grin. "If I die… I'll haunt you."
She glared at him through her tears. "Then you better stay alive to make my life miserable in person."
Luca's voice cut in, sharp. "We're not safe yet. That wasn't random, they were tracking us with something."
Damian's gaze hardened. "Check the car. Everything."
Luca reached beneath the dashboard, muttering curses until he found a small black device, blinking faintly.
A tracker.
"Get rid of it!" Damian snapped.
Luca threw it out the window. The rain swallowed it instantly.
Minutes passed before Damian leaned back, pale but conscious. The worst was over for now.
Isabella sat beside him, soaked, shaking, but alive.
His blood stained her hands, her clothes, her heart.
As the forest swallowed them, she realized something terrifying.
It wasn't just danger binding her to Damian now.
It was something deeper.
Something that would ruin them both.
The storm had followed them all the way to the mountains.
By the time Luca pulled the SUV into the abandoned cabin's driveway, the rain had turned the dirt road into rivers of mud.
"Inside," Luca ordered, already stepping out with his gun raised.
Isabella clutched Damian's arm as he stumbled beside her.
His weight pressed heavily against her shoulder, his blood still seeping through the bandage she'd made from her jacket.
The cabin loomed like a ghost wooden, silent, hidden by the trees.
It was supposed to be safe, but the night felt too still, too sharp.
Luca kicked open the door, sweeping the room before nodding. "Clear. For now."
Isabella guided Damian to a couch covered in dust.
He sank onto it with a hiss of pain, his face pale, his shirt soaked crimson.
"Luca," she said breathlessly, "he needs medical supplies.."
"In the trunk," Luca said, rushing back out into the storm.
Isabella turned back to Damian. Her hands shook as she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the wound on his shoulder.
The bullet had grazed deep ugly, but survivable.
He smirked faintly. "You look like you're about to faint."
"Maybe because you're bleeding all over the place," she snapped, voice trembling. "And still trying to joke."
"Someone has to keep the mood light."
"Damian, this isn't funny."
His eyes softened. "I know."
The brief honesty in his tone disarmed her more than any kiss could have.
When Luca returned, she tore through the med kit, her movements frantic but steady. Alcohol, gauze, thread, needle. She could do this. She had to.
"Hold still," she whispered.
Damian's jaw clenched as the needle pierced his skin.
He didn't flinch, but the muscles in his arm flexed beneath her touch. His eyes stayed locked on her face, the concentration, the tears she tried to hide, the fire that hadn't dimmed even through chaos.
"You've done this before?" he asked hoarsely.
"No," she said. "But I've watched people who could."
He gave a rough laugh. "So I'm your first experiment?"
"Shut up and stay alive."
She tied the final stitch, her hands trembling.
When she looked up, his eyes were on her not with his usual arrogance, but something raw.
Something dangerous.
He reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. "You saved my life twice tonight."
"I didn't do it for you," she lied softly.
His smile was slow, knowing. "You keep telling yourself that."
The air between them grew heavy. Every drop of rain outside felt like a drumbeat.
Then glass shattered upstairs.
Luca's gun was up instantly. "Someone's here."
Isabella froze, her hand instinctively gripping Damian's arm.
"Get her in the basement," Damian rasped, trying to stand.
"You're not moving," Luca said sharply. "You'll reopen the wound."
"Like hell I'm staying put."
"Damian.." Isabella's voice cracked.
Luca moved first, scanning the stairs with his gun raised. "Move. Now."
Another sound boots on wood. Slow. Deliberate.
Isabella's pulse thundered as Luca shoved her toward the hidden door beneath the stairs.
She hesitated, looking back at Damian, his pale face set in defiance.
"Go, Bella," he said. "Now."
Her throat burned. She wanted to stay and wanted to fight but one looked at his bleeding shoulder and she obeyed.
The basement door creaked shut behind her just as footsteps reached the landing above.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
And for the first time, she realized.
whatever waited upstairs…
might not be there to kill Damian.
It might be there for her.
The darkness in the basement was absolute.
The air smelled of dust, damp earth, and old secrets.
Isabella pressed her back to the wall, her chest rising and falling too fast. Above her, footsteps echoed heavy, measured, hunting.
Then..
Bang.
A gunshot cracked through the cabin.
"Luca!" she whispered, voice breaking. No answer.
Her hands fumbled along the rough wall until she found a switch.
The single bulb flickered to life, casting a pale circle over wooden shelves and forgotten crates.
Something gleamed beneath a tarp in the corner.
Her instincts screamed to stay still, but curiosity and fear were stronger. She pulled the tarp back and froze.
Underneath sat a metal case. Locked. Military-grade.
And branded with a crest she recognized.
The Ricci crest. Her father's.
Before she could process what that meant, another sound hit her: a low growl of pain from upstairs. Damian.
Her heart lurched. She couldn't stay down here while he.
"Don't."
The voice came from the shadows behind her.
She spun, breath catching the dim light revealing a figure at the far end of the basement.
Black clothes. Mask. The gun aimed directly at her chest.
"Step away from the case," the intruder ordered.
Her pulse roared in her ears. "Who are you?"
"Your father's mistake," he said quietly.
Then.
Another shot exploded upstairs, followed by the crash of furniture.
The masked man hesitated, glancing toward the noise and that was all Isabella needed.
She grabbed the nearest object, a rusted wrench and swung with everything she had. It connected with his arm.
The gun went off, the bullet ricocheting into the wall.
"Damn it.." he hissed, lunging forward.
Isabella darted toward the stairs. She barely made it two steps before the basement door burst open and Damian stood there, wild-eyed, gun in one hand, blood soaking through his bandage.
"Bella," he rasped.
Her captor turned, aiming his weapon
but Damian fired first.
The shot tore through the silence, and the man collapsed, his mask slipping free.
Isabella froze.
Her stomach turned to ice.
The man on the floor… was one of her father's guards.
Damian's face hardened, his breathing ragged. "He found us. Which means more are coming."
He holstered his weapon, crossing to her in two staggering steps. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head numbly. "No, but Damian, that box is my father's crest. Why would it be here?"
He followed her gaze to the case, his expression unreadable. "Because this isn't the first time he's used this cabin."
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
He brushed his thumb over the crest, the faintest flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Your father built this place as a hideout. Long before I ever came into the picture."
Her mind spun. "So you knew.."
"I knew it existed. Not that it was his."
He looked at her then, really looked torn between truth and the lies he still couldn't tell her.
Rain hammered against the roof. The storm screamed through the trees. And in that small, dim room, the space between them tightened until it was impossible to breathe.
"You shouldn't have come for me," she whispered, tears burning her eyes. "You're bleeding because of me."