abella's POV
You cannot keep fleeing this, Isabella. Enzo's voice cracked through the silence, quivering with equal parts desperation and rage. His dark eyes sunk into mine like he was trying to pry the truth straight out of my soul, his hand clutching my wrist.
My chest heaving, I jerked my hand away and stepped back. "Enzo, I'm not sprinting here. I'm still surviving. Different things exist.
His tall body sliced across the low light flickering from the damaged streetlamp as he stepped measured toward me. His voice became a menacing whisper. "Surviving" You refer to this as surviving. You are misleading both to me and yourself.