CHAPTER 7

Light draws on them as they are seen in a house which they found along the way panting so heavily, Isla fate draws on her,

The weight of Ethan's words still hung between her like a storm cloud ready to break. Isla sat motionless on the couch, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind raced through every possible scenario.

Adrian had been taken.

And it was because of her.

She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of the cushion. The warmth of Ethan's lips against hers just moments ago felt like a distant memory, drowned out by the icy fear settling in her chest.

Across the room, Ethan stood rigid, his body vibrating with tension. His hands were clenched at his sides, his eyes fixed on the floor as if he were trying to force back the rage boiling beneath his skin.

The silence stretched between them, suffocating.

"We need a plan," Isla finally broke the quiet, her voice quieter than she intended.

Ethan exhaled sharply and turned to her, his gaze cold and resolute. "No. I need a plan. You're staying here."

The finality in his tone sent a sharp jolt of frustration through her, cutting through her fear. She stood abruptly, meeting his gaze with a fire of her own.

"Ethan, no," she snapped, her voice gaining strength. "You don't get to make that decision for me."

His jaw tightened. "This isn't up for discussion, Isla."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as anger and fear warred within her. "Adrian is in danger because of me. You know that, and you think I'm just going to sit here and do nothing?"

Ethan took a step forward, towering over her, his voice dangerously low. "I think you're going to stay alive."

Something flickered behind his eyes—something raw, unspoken. Isla's breath caught in her throat, and for a brief second, she saw it.

He wasn't just protecting her.

He was afraid of losing her.

Her resolve wavered, but only for a moment. She straightened her spine. "Ethan," she said, her voice softer but no less determined, "I can't let you do this alone."

Before he could respond—

A loud, sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

The air turned electric.

Both of them froze.

Ethan's eyes darkened instantly. In a swift motion, he reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

Isla's pulse skyrocketed.

"Get behind me," Ethan ordered in a whisper.

She hesitated only for a second before she obeyed, stepping back just as Ethan moved silently toward the door.

Another knock—this time louder.

Ethan pressed his back against the wall, carefully peering through the peephole.

His entire body went rigid.

"Who is it?" Isla whispered, dread curling in her stomach.

His grip tightened on the gun. His voice was sharp.

"Daniel's messenger."

A cold chill ran down Isla's spine.

Ethan exhaled slowly, the motion deliberate, controlled. He pressed his forehead briefly against the door, gathering himself before unlocking it with an unsettling calm.

As the door creaked open, Isla's heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Standing in the dimly lit hallway was a man she had never seen before—tall, sharp-featured, dressed in a sleek black suit that looked too pristine for someone working with a criminal like Daniel. He had the kind of face that was forgettable, except for the smug glint in his eyes that sent a chill crawling up Isla's spine.

Ethan didn't lower his gun.

The man's lips curled into a small smirk. "I assume you got the message."

Ethan's grip on the firearm remained steady. "Where is Adrian?"

The man chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "Straight to business. How very predictable."

Ethan didn't respond. He didn't blink.

The messenger sighed dramatically, slipping a hand into his pocket. Isla tensed, her muscles coiling like a spring, but instead of a weapon, he pulled out a sleek black phone.

"Our boss wants to see you." The man extended the phone toward Ethan. "Alone."

Ethan didn't move.

The messenger's smirk widened. "Oh, don't worry. It's not a trap."

Ethan gave a humorless laugh. "Right. Because Daniel is so trustworthy."

The man chuckled but didn't argue. He simply held the phone out further. "He wants to talk."

Ethan hesitated for the briefest of moments before snatching the phone from the man's hand. He brought it to his ear, his jaw clenching.

The moment Daniel's voice filtered through the speaker, Ethan's entire demeanor shifted.

"Ethan," Daniel drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. "It's been too long."

Ethan's fingers curled tightly around the phone. "Cut the bullshit. Where's Adrian?"

A low chuckle. "He's alive. For now."

Isla's stomach knotted painfully.

Ethan's voice dropped to something lethal. "What do you want?"

There was a pause. Then—

"I want to see you."

Ethan's silence was answer enough.

Daniel hummed. "Relax, old friend. I'm not asking much. Just a little meeting—just you and me. No weapons. No backup."

Ethan exhaled through his nose, already knowing the game Daniel was playing. "Where?"

"The abandoned warehouse by the docks. Midnight. If you don't show, well…" Daniel let out a mock sigh. "Adrian's time runs out."

The line went dead.

Ethan stared at the phone in his hand for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, without warning, he hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a violent crack before falling to the floor in pieces.

Isla flinched but forced herself to remain still.

The messenger grinned. "Guess I'll see you at midnight."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared down the hall, his footsteps echoing until they faded into nothing.

The second the door shut, Ethan spun around and stalked toward the table, planting his hands on the surface as he braced himself against the weight of what had just happened.

Isla's voice was barely above a whisper. "You're not going alone."

Ethan lifted his head, his stormy eyes locking onto hers.

"Yes," he said, voice flat, final. "I am."

But Isla shook her head, stepping closer.

"No," she repeated, her voice shaking with emotion. "I won't let you do this alone."

Something in Ethan's gaze wavered—just for a second.

And for the first time, he knew deep down—

There was no stopping her.

"You're the most stubborn woman I've ever met," he muttered.

A weak smile tugged at her lips. "And you're the most infuriating man I've ever met."

Something shifted between them then—something unspoken but undeniable.

And for the first time since the call, Ethan exhaled, as if letting go of the last shred of resistance.

"Fine," he murmured. "But if we do this—"

"We do it together," she finished.

Their eyes locked.

And in that moment, it was sealed.

Ethan wasted no time. The moment he accepted Isla's involvement, he shifted into action, his expression turning sharp and calculating.

He moved to the table and grabbed a notepad, scribbling something quickly. Isla stepped closer, glancing at what he was writing.

"The warehouse is at the docks," he muttered, drawing a quick sketch of the area. "Daniel's men will be stationed around the perimeter. He's not an idiot—he'll expect me to come armed, so he'll have people watching for any tricks."

Isla frowned. "And you're still going?"

Ethan shot her a wry look. "I don't have a choice."

She bit her lip. "Then what's the plan?"

He tapped the paper. "I go in alone first. Make him think I followed his instructions. You stay out of sight until I give you a signal."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And what exactly is the signal?"

Ethan smirked darkly. "Gunfire."

She huffed. "Oh, great. Sounds perfectly safe."

His expression softened. "I need you to trust me."

Isla hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "I do trust you. But you have to trust me too."

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. "Alright. Then let's make sure we do this right."

She leaned over the table, tracing the map with her finger. "What about an exit plan?"

Ethan's gaze flickered with something unreadable. "I'm working on that part."

A nervous knot twisted in Isla's stomach. She knew Ethan was strong, capable, and experienced in handling situations like this. But this wasn't just any job. This was personal.

And personal made people reckless.

She reached out, covering his hand with hers. He stilled at the contact, his eyes snapping to hers.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," she whispered.

His throat bobbed. "Define stupid."

She gave him a look.

Ethan sighed, squeezing her fingers lightly before pulling away. "I promise I'll try."

It wasn't the reassurance she wanted, but it was the best she was going to get.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than before. Midnight was drawing closer.

And soon, they'd be stepping into the lion's den.

The drive to the docks was suffocatingly quiet. Ethan's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Isla sat beside him, her heart hammering in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm.

She had to trust him.

The city lights faded behind them as they neared the docks. The scent of saltwater and gasoline filled the air, and the faint hum of cargo ships in the distance added to the eerie stillness.

Ethan pulled into an abandoned parking lot, cutting the engine.

"This is as far as you go," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Isla clenched her fists. "Ethan—"

"No." He turned to her, his eyes dark with warning. "We've been over this. I go in first. You stay out of sight. If anything goes wrong, you leave. No heroics."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded.

Ethan exhaled and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a small handgun. He hesitated before handing it to her.

"Take it."

Isla blinked. "I—"

"Just in case," he said.

She swallowed hard and took the weapon, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal. She wasn't new to firearms, but she had never wanted to use one.

Ethan studied her for a moment before reaching up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her skin.

"Be careful," he murmured.

Isla's breath hitched. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words got lost in the intensity of his gaze.

Before she could react, Ethan pushed the door open and stepped out.

The second he was gone, the car felt unbearably empty.

She watched as he approached the warehouse, his movements careful but confident. Shadows loomed around the entrance, and she spotted the figures of Daniel's men stationed at key points.

Ethan disappeared inside.

Isla's pulse pounded in her ears.

She hated waiting.

Something felt off.

A cold shiver crawled up her spine.

Then—

A gunshot.

Her breath caught.

That was the signal.

But something told her this wasn't part of the plan

The gunshot echoed like a war drum. Isla's grip on the gun tightened as adrenaline surged through her veins.

She scrambled out of the car, moving quickly along the shadows.

Her mind raced. Ethan was in there—alone. If something had gone wrong, she was his only backup.

She reached the side of the warehouse, pressing her back against the cold metal wall. The sound of shouting rang through the night.

Then—another gunshot.

And another.

Her stomach twisted.

She peered through a crack in the warehouse's metal paneling. Inside, Ethan stood in the center of the room, his gun aimed at Daniel, who was smirking like the devil himself. Around them, Daniel's men had their weapons drawn.

Ethan was outnumbered.

Her chest tightened.

Think, Isla.

She needed a way in. A way to tip the balance.

She glanced up and spotted a ladder leading to the roof. Without hesitation, she climbed. Her heart pounded with every step.

From the rooftop, she found a skylight. The glass was old, weak—one good hit and it would shatter.

Below, Ethan was still facing off against Daniel.

Then, Daniel chuckled. "You really thought you'd walk in here and dictate terms, Ethan?"

Ethan's jaw clenched. "I don't need terms."

Daniel's smirk widened. "Then let me make it easier for you."

He nodded toward one of his men.

The man grabbed a figure from the shadows and shoved them forward.

Isla's blood ran cold.

Adrian.

Ethan's younger brother.

Beaten. Bleeding. Barely conscious.

Ethan stiffened. His whole body coiled with restrained fury.

Daniel sighed theatrically. "Now, here's the deal. You drop your weapon… or I put a bullet in his head."

The tension was suffocating.

Ethan's fingers twitched against the trigger, his breathing unsteady. Isla could see the war waging in his eyes.

If he dropped the gun, they were both dead.

If he didn't… Adrian would be.

She couldn't let that happen.

Her hands curled into fists.

She took a breath—then slammed her elbow through the skylight.

Glass shattered, raining down like ice shards.

Time slowed.

As everyone looked up in shock, Isla took her chance.

She leaped down, landing hard on a stack of crates, the impact jolting her bones.

Then she fired.

A single shot.

Straight into the lights.

The warehouse plunged into darkness.

Chaos exploded.

Shouts. Gunfire. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.

Through the commotion, Isla heard Ethan's voice—low, determined.

"Run."

She grabbed Adrian, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

The warehouse was pure chaos. Gunfire echoed through the air, ricocheting off metal walls. Isla's heart pounded as she pulled Adrian along, his weight dragging heavily against her. He was barely conscious, his body limp, but she refused to leave him behind.

Ethan moved like a shadow in the darkness, taking down one of Daniel's men with a swift shot to the leg. The man collapsed with a strangled yell.

"Keep moving!" Ethan barked, grabbing Isla's hand as they dashed through the warehouse.

Bullets whizzed past them. Isla ducked, her grip tightening on Adrian. She could hear Daniel shouting orders behind them, his voice filled with fury.

"Find them! Don't let them get away!"

Ethan led them through a side door, kicking it open with a force that sent it slamming against the wall. They burst out into the night air, the saltwater breeze hitting Isla's face like a slap.

A black SUV was parked near the docks—their escape plan.

But then—

A sharp whistle cut through the night.

Isla turned just in time to see Daniel stepping out of the warehouse, his gun raised. His face was a mask of pure rage.

"You really think I'm going to let you walk away?" he sneered.

Ethan shoved Isla and Adrian behind him, his gun aimed at Daniel.

A tense standoff.

The moonlight cast sharp shadows on Ethan's face, highlighting the fury in his eyes. Isla had never seen him like this—so completely consumed by anger.

Daniel cocked his head. "You know how this ends, Ethan. You can't win."

Ethan's grip on the gun tightened. His jaw clenched.

Isla's breath hitched.

Then—

A sharp, painful gasp.

Ethan stumbled.

A gunshot rang out.

He fell to one knee, clutching his side. Blood seeped through his fingers.

"NO!" Isla screamed.

Daniel smirked, lowering his gun. "Told you."

Everything inside Isla snapped.

Before she even thought about it, she raised her gun.

Her hands trembled. Her breath was shallow.

Daniel's smirk widened. "Oh, sweetheart. You wouldn't—"

Isla pulled the trigger.

A single shot.

Straight to the shoulder.

Daniel staggered back with a sharp curse, his gun falling from his hand.

Isla grabbed Ethan, ignoring the warmth of his blood on her hands.

"We have to go, NOW!" she yelled.

Ethan groaned, forcing himself up. Isla and Adrian half-dragged him toward the SUV.

The second they were inside, Isla slammed the doors shut.

Ethan, breathless and in pain, managed to mutter, "Drive."

She floored the gas pedal.

The SUV roared to life, tires screeching against the pavement as they sped away from the docks, leaving Daniel and his men behind.

The city lights blurred in the distance as Isla gripped the wheel.

Her hands were shaking.

Her heart was racing.

Ethan was bleeding.

And this wasn't over.

Not even close.

The SUV sped down the highway, the city lights flashing past in a dizzying blur. Inside, the tension was suffocating.

Ethan leaned back in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window. His shirt was soaked with blood, and his breathing was uneven.

Isla swallowed hard, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Adrian, still weak, groaned from the back seat. "Ethan…?"

Ethan turned his head slightly. "I'm fine," he muttered. But the pain in his voice betrayed him.

Isla's grip tightened. "You are not fine," she snapped. "You've been shot. We need to get you to a hospital."

Ethan gave a weak chuckle. "Hospitals ask questions we don't have answers for."

Her frustration boiled over. "So what? You'd rather bleed out?"

Ethan sighed, closing his eyes. "Just… get us somewhere safe."

Isla's chest tightened. The sight of him like this—wounded, vulnerable—made something inside her ache.

Silence filled the car. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on them.

After a long moment, Ethan whispered, "You didn't have to do that."

Isla shot him a glare. "Are you serious? If I hadn't, you'd be dead right now."

He gave her a small, tired smirk. "Didn't know you had such good aim."

She exhaled sharply, trying to control the mix of anger and fear inside her. "I did what I had to do."

Ethan's gaze softened. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly she almost didn't hear it, he murmured, "Thank you."

Isla's heart clenched.

She wanted to say something—to tell him how terrified she had been, how she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

But she didn't.

Instead, she just drove.

Because words weren't enough for what they felt in that moment.

And maybe they never would be.