Chapter 14 : Rising Tensions

The forest was alive with sound—the sharp clash of steel, the guttural grunts of exertion and pain, and the erratic pounding of Isla's own heart. She had been discovered, the hooded man's mocking words ringing in her ears:

"Going somewhere, Isla?"

Her name—*her real name*—still reverberated in her mind like a bell tolling doom. She didn't know how he knew it or what it meant, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Not when the man was advancing on her with a blade that gleamed in the pale moonlight.

Isla took an instinctive step back, clutching the branch in her hands like it was a lifeline. Her throat was dry, panic clawing at her chest. She could barely hear herself think over the rush of blood in her ears.

"Stay back!" she shouted, though her voice wavered, betraying her fear.

The man chuckled—a deep, chilling sound. "And what are you going to do with that twig? Poke me to death?"

He lunged.

Isla swung wildly, the branch connecting with his shoulder. The impact jarred her arms, the vibration rattling her teeth, but it barely seemed to faze him. He twisted, grabbing the branch and wrenching it out of her hands with terrifying ease.

"Pathetic," he sneered, tossing the broken branch aside.

Isla stumbled back, her foot catching on a root. She hit the ground hard, the air rushing out of her lungs. The man loomed over her, his sword raised.

This was it. This was how it ended.

But then, out of nowhere, a blur of motion slammed into the man, knocking him off balance. Isla blinked, dazed, as Adrian Blackthorn stepped into her line of sight.

"Get up!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

Isla scrambled to her feet, her knees shaking beneath her. Adrian didn't spare her a glance, his focus entirely on the hooded man as he brought his sword up in a defensive stance.

The hooded man recovered quickly, his sneer returning as he sized Adrian up. "You must be the infamous Duke Blackthorn," he said, his tone mocking. "Here to play the hero, are we?"

Adrian didn't respond. He moved.

The speed of his attack took Isla's breath away. One moment he was standing still, the next he was a flurry of motion, his blade arcing through the air with deadly precision. The hooded man barely managed to block the strike, their swords clashing with a sharp ring that echoed through the forest.

Isla stumbled back, her heart pounding as she watched the fight unfold. Adrian was relentless, his movements fluid and precise, each strike calculated to exploit the man's weaknesses. The hooded man was skilled, but Adrian was better.

The man lunged, aiming for Adrian's side, but Adrian sidestepped effortlessly, his counterattack forcing the man to retreat. Their blades danced in the moonlight, the clash of steel a chaotic symphony that left Isla both awed and terrified.

"Isla!" Adrian shouted, his voice cutting through her haze of fear. "Run!"

She shook her head, panic tightening in her chest. "I can't just—"

"Go!" he snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

Isla hesitated for a fraction of a second before forcing her legs to move. She turned and ran, stumbling over roots and uneven ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't know where she was going—only that she needed to put as much distance as possible between herself and the fight.

But she didn't get far.

A second figure emerged from the shadows, blocking her path. This one was smaller than the first, but no less menacing. The glint of a dagger caught her eye, and she froze, her heart sinking.

"Well, well," the figure said, their voice light and mocking. "Looks like the little lady tried to run."

Isla backed away slowly, her mind racing. She had no weapon, no plan, no way to defend herself. She was completely and utterly outmatched.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," the figure said, stepping closer.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and suddenly the figure let out a choked gasp, their hand flying to their neck. An arrow protruded from their shoulder, blood staining their dark cloak.

Isla's head whipped around, her eyes widening as she spotted Elias standing a few yards away, a bow in his hands and a smirk on his face.

"Miss me?" he called, not waiting for an answer as he nocked another arrow and aimed at the hooded man still fighting Adrian.

The arrow flew true, forcing the man to leap back and abandon his offensive. Adrian didn't waste the opening, pressing the attack with renewed vigor.

Elias jogged over to Isla, his smirk fading as he took in her disheveled state. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"I—I'm fine," she stammered, still trying to process his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, apparently," he said, a hint of his usual sarcasm returning. "Though I wouldn't mind a thank-you."

Isla opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp cry from Adrian drew her attention. Her heart leaped into her throat as she saw him stumble, the hooded man's blade slicing across his arm.

"No!" she shouted, taking a step forward before Elias grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Stay here," he said firmly. "I'll handle this."

Before she could protest, Elias charged into the fray, drawing a short sword from his belt. He moved with a casual grace that belied his skill, his strikes precise and deadly. Together, he and Adrian forced the hooded man onto the defensive, their combined assault relentless.

The fight ended as abruptly as it had begun. Adrian's blade found its mark, slicing across the man's side and sending him crumpling to the ground with a pained groan. He clutched his wound, his breaths shallow and labored, but his eyes burned with defiance as he glared up at Adrian.

"This isn't over," the man spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Adrian's expression was cold, his sword still pointed at the man's throat. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

The man laughed weakly. "You'll find out soon enough."

Before Adrian could press him further, the man's body convulsed, his eyes rolling back in his head. Isla gasped as she realized what had happened.

"Poison," Elias said grimly, crouching beside the man's lifeless body. He pulled back the hood, revealing a face that was unfamiliar to Isla.

Adrian sheathed his sword, his jaw tight. "We need to move. There could be more of them."

---

The journey back to the estate was tense and silent. Isla walked between Adrian and Elias, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare ask. Her hands still trembled, and she couldn't shake the image of the hooded man's lifeless eyes staring back at her.

When they finally reached the estate, Adrian turned to Elias. "Double the patrols," he ordered. "Make sure every entrance is secured."

Elias nodded, his usual smirk absent. "Consider it done."

As Elias strode away, Adrian turned his attention to Isla. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"You need to rest," he said, his voice low but firm.

Isla opened her mouth to argue, but the look he gave her silenced her.

"Please," he added, and the softness in his tone took her by surprise.

She nodded reluctantly, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

---

**Adrian's Point of View**

Adrian watched as Isla disappeared into the estate, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite untangle. Relief that she was safe. Anger that she had put herself in danger. And something else—something he didn't want to name.

He let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair. She was reckless, stubborn, and entirely too brave for her own good. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to stay angry with her.

When he'd seen her in the forest, cornered and defenseless, something inside him had snapped. The thought of losing her—of failing to protect her—had been unbearable.

It was ridiculous. He barely knew her, and yet she had somehow wormed her way under his skin, challenging him in ways no one else dared.

Adrian clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He couldn't afford to be distracted—not now, not when the stakes were so high. Isla was a liability, a puzzle he didn't have time to solve.

And yet, as he stood there in the quiet of the courtyard, he couldn't shake the image of her standing in the moonlight, defiant and unyielding even in the face of danger.

Damn her.

Damn her for making him care.