CHAPTER 10

THE FIRE THAT BURNS

The wind howled through the deserted highway as Isla tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles white. The city lights faded in the rearview mirror, swallowed by darkness. Beside her, Ethan sat tense, one hand gripping his wound, the other holding the gun resting on his lap.

"Keep your eyes on the road," he murmured, his voice thick with pain.

Isla flicked her gaze toward him. "Stop acting like I'm the one who got shot."

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "You sure? Cause the way your hands are shaking says otherwise."

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. "Where exactly are we going?"

Ethan leaned his head back, his voice quieter now. "A cabin. About two hours from here. No one knows about it but me."

Isla's heart pounded. They were really doing this. Running away together.

Alone.

A dangerous heat curled in her stomach at the thought.

By the time they arrived, Ethan was barely conscious. Isla helped him inside, struggling under his weight. The cabin smelled of aged wood and dust, untouched for years.

She led him to the couch, lowering him gently. "Let me see," she whispered, reaching for his shirt.

His hand shot up, catching her wrist. "Isla…" His voice was rough, laced with something unreadable.

She swallowed, refusing to be intimidated. "Ethan, you're bleeding."

For a moment, neither of them moved. His fingers lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing her pulse. The air between them thickened.

Then, with a defeated sigh, he let go.

She lifted his shirt, inhaling sharply at the sight of the wound. It wasn't deep, but blood had soaked through the bandage.

"This is going to hurt," she warned.

Ethan smirked. "Good thing I like pain."

She rolled her eyes but didn't miss the way his gaze darkened as she leaned closer, her breath fanning his skin.

Ethan clenched his jaw as Isla pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth against his wound.

"You know," he muttered, his breath ragged, "if you wanted to get my shirt off, you could've just asked."

Isla's hands stilled.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze. "Ethan…"

He smirked despite the pain. "Yeah?"

She stared at him, at the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, at the scars that painted his body like a tragic story written in skin.

"You're impossible," she murmured.

His smirk faded. "And you're dangerous."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

Ethan's fingers brushed against her cheek, tilting her face closer. "You're dangerous, Isla. Because when you look at me like that… I forget why I shouldn't want you."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Then stop fighting it."

His grip tightened. His control shattered.

And suddenly, his lips crashed into hers.

The moment Ethan's lips met hers, the world outside ceased to exist.

It was reckless. It was inevitable.

It was forbidden.

Isla gasped against his mouth as he pulled her onto his lap, his hands gripping her waist like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

She tasted danger and desire all at once.

Ethan groaned against her lips, his fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer. "You drive me insane," he whispered between kisses, his voice raw.

Isla's hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body beneath her fingertips. "Then stop pretending you don't want this."

Ethan let out a low curse before flipping her onto the couch, pinning her beneath him. His gaze burned into hers, his breaths heavy.

"I want you, Isla," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "But I shouldn't."

She traced a finger along his jaw, her lips curving. "Since when you have followed the rules?"

Ethan let out a shaky breath, his resolve crumbling.

And then he kissed her again harder this time. Desperate. Consuming.

A fire they couldn't control.

The crack of a gunshot shattered the moment.

Ethan yanked Isla to the floor, shielding her with his body. The window behind them shattered, glass raining down.

His heart pounded. "Stay down!"

Isla barely had time to register what was happening before Ethan grabbed his gun and crawled toward the window.

A shadow moved outside.

Daniel's men.

Ethan clenched his jaw. "They found us."

Isla's blood ran cold. "What do we do?"

Ethan checked the ammo in his gun. "We fight."

She stared at him, her heart racing. "Just us?"

Ethan looked at her then, his gaze intense. "You're not just some girl caught in the middle of this anymore, Isla."

Her breath hitched.

He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. "We do this together. Or not at all."

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Then, with a slow nod, she whispered, "Together."

Ethan's lips curled into a dark, dangerous smirk.

"Then let's give them hell."

The next few seconds felt like an eternity.

Ethan positioned himself at the door, his grip on the gun steady. Isla stayed close, her heart thundering against her ribs.

The sound of footsteps outside made her pulse spike.

Ethan turned to her. "No matter what happens, stay close to me."

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

Then, without warning, the door burst open.

Two men stormed in, guns raised.

Ethan fired first. The man on the left dropped.

The second lunged forward, but Isla acted before she could think—grabbing the nearest lamp and smashing it over his head.

The man crumpled to the floor.

Ethan stared at her, stunned.

Isla panted, gripping the broken lamp. "What?"

Ethan's lips twitched. "You're full of surprises."

Before she could respond, another gunshot rang out from outside.

Ethan's expression darkened. "We have to move."

Isla nodded.

As they stepped over the fallen men and out into the night, Ethan reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers.

She looked at him, breathless.

This wasn't just about survival anymore.

This was about them.

Their love was a battlefield.

And they were ready for war.