CHAPTER 5 Breaking the Barriers

Breaking the Barriers 

The silence between Isla and Ethan was deafening as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. The hum of the engine was the only sound filling the car, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging between them. Isla could still feel the weight of Lucas's words pressing down on her like an unbearable burden.

She stole a glance at Ethan, his jaw clenched in a way that told her he was trying—failing—to keep himself together. His dark eyes were locked on the road, but his mind was somewhere else, somewhere dangerous.

The tension was suffocating. Isla couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, afraid that speaking too loudly might break whatever fragile control he had over himself.

Ethan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Lucas and I… we were close once." His voice was rough, distant. "But he made choices I couldn't follow."

Isla's brows knitted together. "What kind of choices?"

Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "The kind that put him on Daniel's side."

The revelation sent a chill through her. Isla had always known there was history between Ethan and Lucas, but she hadn't realized just how deep it went. "And now, he's the only person who can help us stop Daniel?" she asked, trying to keep the disbelief from creeping into her voice.

Ethan let out a humorless chuckle, his eyes dark with frustration. "Yeah. And that terrifies me."

His words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken fears. Isla's heart clenched at the rare vulnerability in his voice. She knew Ethan was always the one in control, the one who kept his emotions buried beneath layers of steel. But now, for the first time, she saw the cracks in his armor.

She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against his on the gear shift. "Ethan…"

He flinched, as if her touch burned him, but he didn't pull away.

"I won't let you do this alone," she said firmly.

Ethan's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on the road. "You don't have a choice, Isla."

She did. And she'd already made it.

Ethan's apartment had never felt so suffocating. The dim lighting cast long shadows on the walls, and the silence between them was almost unbearable. Isla sat on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest, watching as Ethan paced the room like a caged predator.

His mind was elsewhere. She could see it in the way his shoulders were tense, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides as if he was itching to throw a punch at something—anything.

"So, what now?" Isla finally asked, her voice cutting through the thick air.

Ethan stopped pacing and turned to her, his gaze unreadable. "We wait."

Isla frowned. "Wait for what?"

"For Lucas to contact us," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "He'll reach out when he's ready."

She let out a bitter laugh. "And what if Daniel makes his move first?"

Ethan's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "Then we make sure we're ready."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down Isla's spine. There was a cold finality to his voice, a silent promise that if it came down to a fight, Ethan wouldn't hesitate to end it—no matter the cost.

"You're scaring me," she admitted softly, hating the way her voice wavered.

Ethan's gaze snapped to hers, something flickering in his eyes. "Good," he said. "Because this isn't a game, Isla. It's not just about me and Daniel anymore. It's about you too. And if you're not scared, then you're not ready."

Isla held his stare, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I don't care how scared I am," she said, standing up and stepping closer to him. "I'm not walking away from this."

For a moment, something unspoken passed between them—something raw and desperate. Ethan's eyes searched hers, as if trying to find a reason to push her away.

But she didn't waver.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, controlled breath. Then, without another word, he turned away, walking toward the window and staring out into the dark city skyline.

Isla sighed, feeling the weight of everything settle heavily on her shoulders.

The war wasn't just out there anymore. It was inside this apartment too—inside both of them.

And she had no idea if they'd survive it.

The weight of the night pressed against Isla as she watched Ethan, his back rigid, his gaze locked on the distant skyline beyond the window. His silence was a storm waiting to break, and Isla had never been one to fear a little thunder.

She took a step forward. "You can't just shut me out, Ethan."

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn around. "I'm not shutting you out."

She scoffed. "Really? Because it sure as hell feels like you are."

Ethan's jaw clenched as he finally turned to face her. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face, accentuating the storm brewing in his dark eyes.

"This isn't something you just walk into, Isla," he said, his voice low and strained. "Lucas is dangerous. The fact that he's offering to help us doesn't change what he is."

Isla crossed her arms. "And what exactly is he?"

Ethan exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "A man who has no loyalty. No conscience. He does what benefits him, and right now, helping us benefits him. But the second it doesn't, he won't hesitate to turn on us."

Isla studied Ethan's face, searching for the deeper meaning behind his words. It wasn't just about Lucas, she realized. This was personal.

She stepped closer. "You trust him enough to work with him."

"I trust that he wants Daniel gone," Ethan corrected, his voice clipped. "That's where it ends."

She tilted her head. "And what happens if he betrays us?"

Ethan's expression darkened, the temperature in the room seeming to drop. "Then I put him down before he gets the chance."

His words sent a chill down Isla's spine. There was no hesitation, no doubt. He had already made up his mind, already accepted the possibility that killing Lucas might be necessary.

A lump formed in her throat. "You don't have to do this alone."

Ethan's eyes flickered with something unreadable, something almost vulnerable. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the steel resolve she had come to know too well.

"I always do."

The words cut deeper than Isla expected. She wanted to argue, to make him see that she wasn't going anywhere. But she knew Ethan. Pushing too hard would only make him retreat further.

So instead, she nodded. "Then I guess I'll just have to remind you that I'm here anyway."

A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips, gone almost as soon as it appeared. "Stubborn."

"Always."

For the first time that night, some of the tension in the air eased. But Isla knew the battle was far from over.

Because Ethan wasn't just fighting Daniel.

He was fighting himself.

The night had settled into an uneasy stillness, the air thick with everything left unsaid. Ethan had retreated to the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn't drinking it—just holding it, as if the weight of the glass grounded him.

Isla hesitated before following, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. "You should get some rest."

Ethan let out a hollow chuckle. "You really think I can sleep right now?"

She sighed, stepping closer. "Ethan…"

His grip tightened around the glass. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the worst-case scenario," he admitted, his voice rough. "I see Daniel finding us first. I see him putting a bullet in your head before I can stop him. I see Lucas deciding that turning us in is more profitable than helping us."

Isla's breath caught. She hadn't realized just how much fear Ethan was carrying—not for himself, but for her.

She placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of her touch cutting through the coldness of his thoughts. "We're not losing this fight."

Ethan's eyes met hers, something raw and dangerous flickering beneath the surface. "You say that like it's a certainty."

"It is."

A charged silence stretched between them, heavy with the tension they had both been trying to ignore.

Then, before she could think, before she could stop herself, she reached up and cupped his face. His breath hitched, and for the first time, Isla saw something other than cold determination in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Want.

Her heart pounded as she leaned in slightly, waiting—giving him the chance to pull away. But he didn't.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, as if letting go of something that had been weighing him down for far too long.

And then, he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't slow. It was desperate, like a man trying to drown out the chaos of the world with something—someone—he shouldn't have.

Isla's fingers dug into his shirt as he backed her against the counter, his hands sliding to her waist, holding her like she might disappear. She kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring all her frustration, her fear, her longing into him.

But just as quickly as it started, Ethan pulled away, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against hers.

"This can't happen," he muttered, his voice laced with regret.

Isla swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Then why did you kiss me?"

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. "Because for a second, I forgot how dangerous this is."

Her heart clenched. "And now you remember?"

His jaw tightened. "I never forgot."

The ache in his voice was almost unbearable.

Ethan took a step back, putting distance between them, but the damage was already done. The line they had been so careful not to cross had just been obliterated.

Neither of them could take it back.

And neither of them wanted to.

Ethan paced the length of the dimly lit kitchen, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in every tense movement. Isla stood against the counter, arms crossed, her lips still tingling from the kiss that had just shattered the fragile boundary between them.

The silence between them was thick charged with everything they were trying to suppress.

Isla finally broke it. "Are you going to pretend that didn't just happen?"

Ethan stopped pacing but didn't turn to face her. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. "I don't have the luxury of pretending, Isla."

His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against concrete, and it sent a sharp pang through her chest.

She took a cautious step forward. "Then don't pretend. Just tell me the truth."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "The truth?" He turned to face her, his dark eyes stormy with conflict. "The truth is that this was never supposed to happen. The truth is that every second I spend wanting you makes this even more dangerous."

Isla's jaw tightened. "You keep saying 'dangerous' like it changes what we feel."

Ethan's expression hardened. "It should."

A wave of anger surged through her. "So that's it? You're going to stand there and act like it didn't mean anything?"

He didn't answer.

She stepped closer, forcing him to look at her. "Say it, Ethan. Say it didn't mean anything, and I'll Walk away."

His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body tense like a coiled wire ready to snap. His jaw worked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. But he said nothing.

Because he couldn't.

Isla's breath caught, her chest tightening. "That's what I thought."

She reached out, her fingers brushing against his forearm, and for a second, he didn't move. For a second, he let her touch ground him.

Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, putting distance between them once again.

"I can't do this," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Isla's heart pounded, frustration mixing with the ache in her chest. "You mean you won't."

Ethan turned away, gripping the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. "It doesn't matter, Isla. Either way, we can't."

The finality in his tone was like a slap to the face.

Isla's throat tightened, but she refused to let him see how much his words hurt.

"Fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "If that's what you need to believe."

Then she turned and walked away, even though every step felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

Ethan didn't stop her.

And that hurt the most.

The night air was crisp and thick with tension as Isla stepped onto the balcony of the safe house, her heart still racing from the confrontation with Ethan. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out at the city lights in the distance, trying to push down the emotions threatening to consume her.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest. A cold blade pressed against her throat.

"Not a sound," a low, menacing voice whispered against her ear.

Isla's blood ran cold.

She didn't panic. She forced herself to breathe, to think.

Her captor's grip was firm, but not unbreakable. The knife was sharp, but the pressure against her throat wasn't enough to break the skin—yet.

"Miss Reyes," the voice continued, his breath hot against her ear. "I was beginning to think I'd never get this close."

Isla's pulse pounded. He knew her name. That meant this wasn't random. This was planned.

"Who sent you?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

The man chuckled, the sound dark and amused. "Oh, come on now. You already know the answer to that."

Daniel.

Of course it was him.

Rage bubbled beneath her fear, but she didn't let it show. She needed to be smart.

"Whatever he's paying you," she said slowly, "I can double it."

The man clicked his tongue. "Tempting. But I'm not in this for the money."

A chill crawled down her spine.

Before she could react, the man yanked her back further into the shadows, away from the railing, away from any hope of being seen.

That's when she made her move.

With a sharp inhale, she stomped down on his foot, using the momentary distraction to twist her body and drive her elbow into his ribs. The knife slipped slightly, giving her just enough room to break free.

She spun around and struck—her knee colliding with his groin with enough force to send him stumbling back.

The man grunted in pain, but he recovered fast. Too fast.

Before she could react, he lunged at her again, and this time, she wasn't fast enough.

A fist connected with her ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. Pain exploded through her side, but she didn't go down. She gritted her teeth and swung, her fist colliding with his jaw.

The man staggered back, but instead of anger, a sick grin spread across his face.

"Not bad," he mused, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "But you're out of your league, sweetheart."

Isla's heart pounded as he reached into his jacket—

A gun.

She had seconds.

Before he could pull it on her, a loud crack split the air.

The man jerked forward, his eyes going wide in shock before his body slumped to the ground.

A gunshot.

Isla turned, her breath catching as she saw Ethan standing at the doorway, his gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes—were locked onto her like she was the only thing in the world.

She exhaled shakily.

"You—" she started, but the words got caught in her throat.

Ethan didn't lower his gun. He took a slow step forward, his gaze flicking to the dead man at her feet.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was an undercurrent of something raw beneath it.

Isla swallowed, shaking her head. "No."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He took another step, closing the distance between them.

Then, in a move that completely shattered the walls he had so desperately tried to keep up, he reached for her.

His hands found her waist, his grip firm but careful, as if reassuring himself that she was real. That she was safe.

Isla's breath hitched as he pulled her close, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You scared the hell out of me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Something inside Isla cracked.

Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt as she let out a shaky exhale. "I thought—"

"You don't have to say it," Ethan murmured. "I know."

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other, the weight of the moment settling between them.

Then, Ethan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

His eyes were filled with something she had never seen before.

A promise.

A warning.

A truth neither of them could deny anymore.

And in that moment, Isla knew—

They were past the point of no return.

The atmosphere inside the safe house was suffocating. After the attack on the balcony, Ethan had hardly said a word. He had pulled Isla inside, locked every door and window, checked every possible entry point, and then retreated into silence.

Now, he stood in the dimly lit living room, his back to her, gripping the edge of the wooden table so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Ethan," Isla said softly, but he didn't turn.

He was barely breathing, his shoulders rising and falling with barely contained fury.

"I'm fine," she continued, stepping closer.

That did it.

Ethan spun so fast she barely had time to react before he closed the space between them, his eyes blazing. "Fine?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You were nearly killed, Isla. That's not fine."

His anger wasn't directed at her—it was self-inflicted, a punishment he was forcing upon himself for letting her get hurt.

Isla reached for him, but he stepped back, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement.

"You don't get it," he muttered, pacing like a caged animal.

"Then make me understand," she pressed, her voice trembling with the weight of everything unspoken between them.

Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I let my guard down."

"That wasn't your fault."

His gaze snapped to hers, and she saw something raw in his eyes—something that made her chest ache.

"Yes, it was," he whispered.

The room was thick with tension, with words neither of them were brave enough to say out loud.

Then, in one quick movement, Ethan reached out, grabbing Isla's wrist and pulling her against him.

Her breath caught.

He wasn't gentle. He wasn't careful.

His hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring himself to her. His forehead rested against hers, his breath warm and unsteady.

"I can't lose you," he confessed, voice hoarse, almost broken.

Isla's heart clenched.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Then stop trying to push me away."

Ethan exhaled shakily, his hold on her tightening.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was desperate, frantic, filled with every emotion he had been too afraid to voice.

And Isla kissed him back with just as much intensity.

Because, despite everything, despite the danger, despite the consequences—

She knew.

She was already his.

And there was no turning back now.

The room was still spinning from the force of the kiss when the sound of Ethan's phone vibrating against the table snapped them both back to reality.

Ethan pulled away first, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place.

She was still trying to process what had just happened when he turned away, grabbing his phone and answering with a clipped, "What?"

Isla watched, her heart hammering as his entire posture changed.

His shoulders tensed. His jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened.

And then—

"What do you mean they took him?" Ethan's voice was sharp, deadly.

Isla's stomach twisted.

Who was they?

Who had they taken?

Ethan ran a hand down his face, his breathing shallow. "Where?" A pause. Then, "I'm on my way."

He ended the call, shoving the phone into his pocket before turning to Isla, his expression unreadable.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Ethan hesitated.

"Ethan—"

"They took Adrian."

The words sent a chill down her spine.

Adrian. Ethan's younger brother.

Her pulse quickened. "Who took him?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "Daniel."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Then Isla whispered the question she already knew the answer to. "Because of me?"

Ethan didn't reply. He didn't need to.

The answer was written all over his face.

Isla's chest constricted.

This was it.

This was the moment where everything changed.

Where the war that had been brewing beneath the surface finally erupted into chaos.

And it was all because of her.

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet Ethan's gaze. "Then we get him back."

Something flickered in Ethan's eyes. Something dangerous.

And then he nodded.

Because this wasn't just about Adrian.

This was about finishing this.

Once and for all.