CHAPTER 4

Lines Crossed

The tension between Isla and Ethan reaches a boiling point as the walls close in on them. With danger lurking at every corner, their forbidden love grows stronger, but so do the consequences of their choices. The chase is no longer about escape—it's about survival.

The safe house was anything but comforting.

Isla sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the flickering lightbulb above. The air smelled of damp wood and dust, a stark contrast to the life she had known before this nightmare began.

Ethan stood by the window, gun in hand, peering out at the endless dark. His muscles were coiled tight, his stance rigid—ready for battle.

"You should get some rest," he said without turning to face her.

She let out a hollow laugh. "You expect me to sleep after everything?"

His jaw tensed. "You need your strength."

Isla shook her head. "And what about you? When was the last time you slept?"

Silence.

She got up and walked to him, her fingers itching to touch his arm, to feel his warmth, but she hesitated. "Ethan... how long do we have before they find us?"

His gaze flicked to her, stormy and unreadable. "Not long."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. It was just them, trapped in this impossible situation, bound by danger and something else neither of them dared to name.

Then, a noise outside shattered the illusion.

Ethan grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him, gun raised. "Stay close."

The game was beginning again.

The knock on the door was soft but insistent.

Ethan motioned for Isla to stay hidden. Slowly, he approached, gun aimed.

"Who is it?"

A familiar voice answered. "It's me. Daniel."

Ethan's expression darkened. Isla recognized that name. Daniel—Ethan's old friend, the only person he trusted.

But when he opened the door, the betrayal was instant.

Daniel wasn't alone.

A group of armed men rushed in.

Ethan barely had time to react before a gun was shoved against his ribs. Isla gasped as another man grabbed her, yanking her away from him.

"Sorry, man," Daniel said, not sounding sorry at all. "You know how this works."

Ethan's eyes turned cold. "You sold me out."

Daniel smirked. "Nothing personal."

But Isla knew—it was personal.

They landed in the alleyway with a bone-rattling force. Isla hit the ground first, her hands scraping against the rough pavement, while Ethan landed beside her, rolling onto his side. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her ankle, and she bit back a cry.

"Are you okay?" Ethan's voice was sharp with concern, his eyes scanning her face as he pulled her up.

"I'm fine," she lied, trying to put weight on her foot.

Ethan caught the flinch before she could hide it. "You're hurt," he said, his voice low but firm.

"Just a sprain," she breathed. "We need to move before—"

A gunshot rang out behind them, and she instinctively pressed herself against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "We're not safe here."

The danger was still there, lingering, yet Isla couldn't stop staring at Ethan. His eyes—stormy and unreadable—locked onto hers. The space between them was nonexistent, their bodies still pressed together from the fall.

"You need to trust me," he murmured.

She let out a shaky breath. "I do."

The tension in the air was thick, charged. Their gazes flickered downward—to lips parted, to the lingering heat between them. Isla knew she shouldn't want this, but in that moment, it felt inevitable.

And then—Ethan moved first.

His lips found hers in a desperate, reckless kiss. A forbidden moment of weakness neither of them could resist.

For once, Isla didn't think about the consequences.

She just felt.

The kiss ended too soon. Reality came crashing back with the distant echo of sirens.

Ethan pulled away first, his breathing uneven. His fingers lingered on her jaw, as if reluctant to break contact. But the moment was gone, swallowed by the dangers surrounding them.

"We need to go," he said, his voice rough with restraint.

Isla nodded, forcing her legs to move. They ducked into the shadows, moving swiftly through the alleyways, blending into the city's night. Isla's mind raced—her heart still beating too fast, not just from the kiss but from everything unraveling around them.

Then Ethan's phone rang.

He stopped abruptly. His grip on the device tightened, hesitation flickering across his face.

Isla noticed. "Who is it?"

His jaw clenched. Without answering, he answered the call and pressed it to his ear.

A voice spoke. Cold. Familiar.

"You can run, Ethan, but you can't hide forever."

Ethan's fingers curled into a fist. "If you touch her—"

Laughter.

"Oh, Ethan. We already did."

The line went dead.

Isla's stomach twisted. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

"Who were they talking about?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan didn't answer right away. His hands were shaking.

And that terrified her more than the call itself.

Ethan dialed another number immediately.

"Who are you calling?" Isla asked, her voice edged with urgency.

"Someone I hoped I'd never have to call again," he muttered.

The phone rang three times before a gruff voice answered.

"You still alive?"

Ethan didn't waste time. "We need a place to lay low. Now."

A pause. Then, the voice responded.

"Meet me at the old warehouse. Midnight."

The line disconnected.

Ethan exhaled sharply, shoving the phone into his pocket. His face was unreadable, but Isla saw the tension in his shoulders.

"Who was that?" she asked carefully.

He hesitated. "The only person who hates Daniel more than I do."

That didn't exactly ease her worry. "Can we trust him?"

Ethan turned to her, his expression dark. "We don't have a choice."

The old warehouse loomed before them, its towering, broken windows like the hollowed-out eyes of a forgotten beast. The air smelled of rust and decay, the ground littered with shattered glass.

Ethan led the way inside, his movements sharp and alert. Isla followed closely, her nerves on edge.

Then—a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Tall. Dangerous. Familiar.

Isla inhaled sharply.

She had seen him before.

In Ethan's old photographs.

Ethan stiffened beside her, his entire posture going rigid.

"Hello, Lucas," he said, his voice laced with tension.

The man—Lucas—smirked. "Long time, brother."

Isla's heart skipped a beat. Brother?

Lucas was nothing like Ethan. Where Ethan carried his pain in silence, Lucas wore his like armor, his presence commanding, his smirk as sharp as a blade.

Ethan didn't move, but Isla felt the change in the air. The undercurrent of history, of wounds unspoken.

Lucas's gaze flicked to her, assessing, amused. "And who's this?"

Ethan stepped in front of her, subtle but protective. "She's with me."

Lucas chuckled, slow and deliberate. "Oh, I like this already."

Isla swallowed hard.

Something told her this meeting wasn't a reunion.

It was a reckoning.

she became part of it. You know how this works."

Ethan exhaled sharply, his muscles tense with barely restrained fury. Isla could feel it—the heat of his frustration, the unspoken history between them.

"What do you want, Lucas?" Ethan's voice was dangerously low.

Lucas grinned. "Straight to business. I like that." He took another step closer. "I heard about Daniel. About how he's been hunting you down like a rabid dog. Gotta says, I always knew this day would come. You two were bound to destroy each other."

Ethan's jaw tightened. "I didn't come here for your commentary."

Lucas ignored the remark, shifting his attention back to Isla. "And yet, you brought her." He tilted his head. "Tell me, sweetheart, do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

Isla met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "I know enough."

Lucas chuckled, slow and deliberate. "Brave. I like that." Then his expression darkened. "But bravery won't save you from what's coming."

Isla swallowed hard.

Ethan took a step forward, his voice razor-sharp. "Are you going to help us or not?"

Lucas studied him for a long moment, then exhaled dramatically. "You always were impatient. Fine. I have a lead on Daniel's next move. But if you want my help, Ethan, you're going to owe me."

Ethan's fists clenched. "I don't owe you anything."

Lucas smirked. "You will."

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down Isla's spine.

She wasn't sure if Lucas was their savior.

Or their next biggest threat.