CHAPTER 3

The Danger of Wanting Him

In this chapter, Isla's entanglement with Ethan deepens, and the stakes rise as she starts to uncover secrets she shouldn't. Their undeniable chemistry clashes with the danger that lurks in the shadows, making every moment between them feel like a ticking time bomb.

Isla sat in her office; her mind plagued by last night's events. The alleyway, Ethan's warning, the unseen threat lurking in the darkness—it all left her shaken. But what disturbed her more was how she felt when he had pinned her against the wall, his body against hers, whispering for her not to move.

She had been scared.

But she had also wanted him.

Her hands trembled as she picked up her coffee. She needed to focus. Forget him. Forget the way his touch had burned through her clothes.

Just as she tried to ground herself, her office door burst open.

Ethan.

His presence sucked the air from the room.

"We need to talk." His voice was low, firm.

Isla swallowed. "I'm working."

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him. His movements were slow, deliberate.

"I don't care."

Her heart hammered.

"You can't just barge in here whenever you want."

He leaned against her desk, arms crossed, eyes dark. "And you can't keep pretending last night didn't happen."

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A humorless chuckle left his lips. "Sure, you do."

The way he looked at her made it impossible to breathe.

And suddenly, the space between them felt too small.

Isla should have stayed away. She should have ignored the text messages, the looks, the tension threatening to break her apart.

But she didn't.

That night, she found herself standing outside Ethan's apartment.

The door opened before she could knock.

Ethan stood there, his gaze unreadable. "You shouldn't have come."

She lifted her chin. "Neither should you."

A slow smirk played on his lips. "And yet, here we are."

She hesitated. "You said we needed to talk."

His expression darkened. "Yeah, but talking isn't what you came here for, is it?"

Her stomach twisted. She hated that he could see through her so easily.

But before she could answer, his phone buzzed.

He checked the screen and suddenly, all traces of amusement vanished.

Isla stepped forward. "What is it?"

Ethan clenched his jaw. "They know about you."

Her blood ran cold.

"Who?"

He looked up, his gaze filled with something she couldn't place. "The people who want me dead."

The apartment felt too quiet, too still—like a place untouched by real life. Isla stood in the middle of Ethan's living room; her arms wrapped around herself. The air was thick with unspoken words, and she could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her.

Ethan stood by the window, staring out into the night like he was watching for something. Or someone. His posture was tense, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

She couldn't take it anymore.

"Ethan, you have to tell me the truth," she demanded, stepping closer.

He didn't look at her. "You don't want to know."

Her frustration flared. "I don't have a choice anymore! Someone left a note at my door, and now you're dragging me into… whatever this is. I deserve to know what I'm up against."

His jaw clenched.

For a long moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. But then, he exhaled, long and slow, and turned to face her.

"When I said I don't belong in their world anymore," he began, his voice lower, rougher, "I meant that I used to be one of them."

A cold shiver ran down Isla's spine.

"One of who?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Ethan's gaze was unreadable. "I was part of a syndicate. A group that operates outside the law. They control everything—money, information, people. And when you work for them, there is no quitting. There's only death."

Her stomach twisted. "You left them?"

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I ran. And no one runs from them."

The reality of his words settled in like a heavy fog.

The Ethan she thought she knew—the man who challenged her, infuriated her, drew her in—was someone entirely different.

And now, she was caught in the crossfire.

"Why are they after me?" she asked.

Ethan's expression darkened. "Because they think you're my weakness."

A sharp breath left her lips.

The problem was… they weren't wrong.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Isla stood by the kitchen counter, her hands gripping the cold marble as she struggled to process Ethan's words.

"You think I'm your weakness?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she challenged, stepping toward him.

His jaw clenched. He turned away for a moment as if gathering his thoughts before he exhaled sharply and faced her again. "The people after me… they don't just go for the person they want. They go for what matters to them. Their family. Their friends. The people they care about."

A cold sensation crawled up her spine.

Ethan took another step forward, closing the space between them. "And whether you want to believe it or not, Isla… you matter to me."

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wanted to be angry, wanted to yell at him for keeping secrets, for dragging her into this dangerous world. But all she could focus on was the raw honesty in his eyes—the vulnerability he rarely let slip.

"This is exactly why I kept my distance," Ethan muttered. "I knew if I got too close, they'd see it. And now…" His voice trailed off, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Now, they were both in danger.

Isla swallowed hard. "So, what do we do?"

Ethan's fingers twitched at his sides. "We get out of here. We run."

Her stomach tightened.

Run? Leave everything behind? The life she built, her job, the only sense of normalcy she had left.

"I don't know if I can do that," she admitted, her voice small.

Ethan stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. His touch was warm, grounding. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more desperate.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Isla. But we have to go."

She held his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.

There was none.

She exhaled shakily and nodded. "Okay."

But deep down, she knew—this was only the beginning.

The note sat on Isla's coffee table, taunting her with its message.

Stay away from him. Or you'll regret it.

Her fingers trembled as she reread the words, each letter seeping into her mind like poison.

She tried to steady her breathing. Maybe this was just a warning. Maybe—

A sharp knock at her door made her jump.

Her pulse spiked as she hesitated. Slowly, she moved toward the door, pressing her ear against it.

Silence.

Another knock.

Harder.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. She reached for her phone, her fingers slipping over the screen as she dialed.

Ethan.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then—

"Isla?" His voice was sharp, alert.

"I got a note," she whispered.

Silence. Then a curse.

"Pack a bag," he ordered. "Now."

Her blood ran cold. "Ethan, what—"

"NOW, Isla. Don't ask questions. Just do it."

The line went dead.

A shudder ran through her.

Whoever left that note… they were serious.

Hands shaking, she grabbed a bag and threw in whatever she could reach. Clothes. Phone charger. Toothbrush. It didn't matter.

As she zipped up the bag, something outside caught her eye.

A black car.

Parked across the street.

The engine was running.

Someone was inside. Watching.

Her breath hitched.

She bolted for the door.

And she didn't look back.

Ethan's car screeched to a stop outside Isla's building.

The moment she saw him, something inside her broke free. Fear. Relief. The overwhelming need to be near him.

She sprinted down the steps, gripping her bag tight, and yanked open the car door.

Before she could speak, Ethan reached over and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut.

He didn't say a word as he stomped on the gas. The tires screeched as the car shot forward, disappearing into the dark streets.

Isla could barely breathe. Her pulse thundered in her ears. "Ethan, what the hell is happening?"

His grip on the steering wheel was iron-tight. "They're here."

Her heart dropped. "Who?"

"The people I ran from." His voice was dangerously calm. "They found you, Isla. And they're not going to stop."

A chill spread through her.

She turned her head, glancing at the side mirror.

The black car.

It was following them.

Panic flared in her chest. "Ethan—"

"I see it." His voice was razor-sharp.

The black car sped up, tailing them.

Ethan cursed under his breath, yanking the wheel to the right. The car swerved into an empty alley, cutting a sharp turn that made Isla's stomach flip.

The black car followed.

"They're not backing off," Isla breathed.

"They won't."

Ethan reached under his seat, pulling out something Isla never expected to see.

A gun.

Her breath caught.

He pressed it into her lap.

"Take it."

She stared at it, horror clawing up her throat. "Ethan, I—"

"Take it, Isla," he snapped. "Because if they catch us, you're going to need it."

Terror licked up her spine.

She gripped the cold metal in her hands.

And for the first time—she understood just how deep she was in.

This wasn't just about Ethan's past anymore.

It was about survival.

And she wasn't sure she was ready for the fight.

The city blurred past them in streaks of light and shadows. Ethan's car roared down the empty streets, weaving through back alleys and side roads like a ghost slipping through the cracks of the night.

Isla sat in the passenger seat, gripping the gun Ethan had given her earlier, her hands trembling.

She had never held a weapon before. Never thought she'd have to.

But tonight, her world had changed.

She glanced at Ethan, his face unreadable, his jaw locked in focus as he maneuvered through the city like a man who had done this too many times before.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a sharp turn onto a deserted highway, the streetlights casting eerie glows over the road.

"I have a safe house," he finally said. "Off the grid. They won't find us there."

She exhaled, forcing herself to calm the racing in her chest. "And then what?"

Ethan's grip on the wheel tightened. "Then we figure out how to make sure they never come after you again."

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

Because for the first time since this nightmare began, Isla realized Ethan wasn't just running.

He was preparing for war.

The road ahead stretched into nothing but darkness, an abyss swallowing them whole. Isla tried to steady her breathing, gripping the edge of her seat as Ethan kept his eyes on the mirror.

Then—

A flash of headlights.

A black SUV appeared behind them, speeding up fast.

Ethan muttered a curse. "Hold on."

Before Isla could react, he slammed on the gas. The car surged forward, but the SUV matched their speed.

"They're coming," Isla whispered, her fingers tightening around the gun in her lap.

Ethan's voice was deadly calm. "I know."

The SUV veered right, trying to force them off the road. Ethan swerved, narrowly dodging the attempt.

Isla's pulse pounded in her ears.

Another jolt—this time from the left. The SUV was trying to box them in.

"Damn it," Ethan growled. "They're not backing off."

A second SUV appeared ahead of them, blocking the road.

Panic licked at Isla's throat. "Ethan, there's another one—"

"I see it."

In one swift move, Ethan reached for something beneath his seat. Another gun.

He tossed it to her.

"Keep your head down," he ordered.

Isla barely had time to react before he rolled down his window and fired.

The shot rang out like a clap of thunder. The SUV on their right swerved wildly, the driver losing control. It spun out, crashing into the highway divider in a shower of sparks.

Isla gasped, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

The second SUV was still closing in.

"Isla, take the wheel."

Her eyes widened. "What?!"

"TAKE THE WHEEL!"

Before she could argue, Ethan let go of it, twisting his body halfway out of the car.

Instinct took over. She lunged forward, grabbing the wheel just as Ethan fired again.

The bullet shattered the windshield of the SUV ahead, forcing it to skid sideways.

Ethan dove back into the driver's seat, yanking the wheel from her grasp.

Another sharp turn.

Another burst of speed.

And suddenly, the road was empty.

The SUVs were gone.

Isla's entire body trembled. She turned to Ethan, her breath ragged. "What the hell just happened?"

Ethan didn't answer right away. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Then, he spoke.

"They won't stop, Isla." His voice was low, lethal. "Not until I end this."

She swallowed hard, her fingers still wrapped around the gun in her lap.

She wasn't sure what scared her more—the men chasing them.

Or the man sitting next to her.

Because for the first time, she realized just how far Ethan was willing to go.

And there was no turning back.