Love in the Face of Death

Luca's body was heavy in Evelyn's arms. Blood soaked through her fingers as she pressed down on his wound, her hands trembling.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice raw. "You hear me, Luca? Don't you dare leave me."

His breath was shallow, his eyelids fluttering. Killian's men loomed around them, guns still drawn, but she saw nothing but him.

Killian took a slow step forward, twirling his gun like this was all some twisted game. "Touching," he mused. "But we both know how this ends."

Evelyn's grip on Luca tightened. "You bastard," she spat, her eyes burning. Rage boiled beneath her grief.

Killian tilted his head. "Don't be so dramatic. He was going to die eventually."

Her fingers itched for a weapon, but she couldn't move, not without losing him.

A sharp laugh cut through the tension.

Dante.

Bloodied, leaning against the wall, but grinning through the pain. "You should probably turn around."

Killian frowned.

Then the cabin doors burst open.

Gunfire.

Evelyn shielded Luca as bullets flew. Chaos erupted.

Henry's men—**or what was left of them—**turned on Killian's forces, an ambush from within.

Henry.

She met his gaze from across the room. Cold. Calculated. But… regretful.

For the first time, she wondered—had Henry ever truly switched sides?

But she had no time to figure that out. Luca needed her.

"Get him out of here!" Dante shouted as he fired at the guards.

Evelyn didn't hesitate. With strength she didn't know she had, she hauled Luca onto her back.

A gun fired—too close—wood shattered beside her.

Then a hand grabbed her arm.

Henry.

"Go!" he barked, his face unreadable. "There's a car out back. Move!"

She didn't stop to question. Didn't care.

Because Luca's breath was weakening.

And if he died—nothing else would matter.

—

Next Chapter: The Line Between Life and Death