(Sebastian's POV)
The road stretched out like a vein through the dark countryside endless, quiet, and cruelly empty.
Sebastian's hands gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary. Every so often, he glanced into the rearview mirror where Isabelle sat, her face turned toward the window.
She hadn't said much since the hospital. Not since they left the city lights behind.
He told himself she was tired, shaken, recovering but he knew better.
He'd seen that distant look before.
Evelyn had worn it, too, once.
Right before she'd started keeping secrets.
Sebastian forced his focus back to the road, jaw tightening. The flash of her name alone was enough to twist something sharp in his chest. Evelyn's ghost had haunted him for years, and now, somehow, her shadow lingered between him and the only woman who had ever made him want to start over.
He stole another glance at Isabelle.
Her reflection in the window looked calm, almost fragile but her fingers moved in her lap, fidgeting with something unseen. A nervous habit. A tell.
He'd spent a lifetime reading people investors, enemies, liars, traitors.
And right now, the woman he loved was hiding something.
He could feel it.
The safe house came into view just past midnight a secluded villa tucked between tall pines, far enough from the nearest town to vanish on any map.
When he parked, Liam stepped out of a separate car ahead and met them at the entrance.
"Security's clean," Liam said. "No signals, no traces."
"Good," Sebastian murmured. "Triple it anyway."
Liam nodded and disappeared into the shadows.
Sebastian turned to Isabelle, who still hadn't moved. The soft cabin light caught the curve of her jaw, the bruises still fading along her neck.
He opened her door and offered his hand.
She hesitated before taking it.
That hesitation just half a second was enough to slice through him.
"Careful," he said quietly as she stepped out.
She nodded, her eyes meeting his for a heartbeat. There was warmth there still, but also something else a wall, faint but real.
He swallowed it down. He couldn't lose her to silence. Not again.
Inside, the villa was warm, built of dark oak and stone, with a fire already burning in the hearth. Isabelle paused just inside the doorway, her gaze sweeping the room.
"It's beautiful," she said softly.
"It's safe," he replied.
She smiled faintly. "You always say that."
He froze for a moment then forced a small smile back. "Old habit."
They stood in silence for a few seconds too long. The air between them felt fragile, stretched thin.
Sebastian turned toward the bar. "Drink?"
"Just water."
He poured two glasses one water, one bourbon and handed hers to her. Their fingers brushed. Once, that touch would've sparked fire between them.
Now it only deepened the ache in his chest.
She sat on the edge of the couch, holding the glass like a lifeline.
He leaned against the counter, watching her quietly. "You haven't asked where we are."
"I figured you'd tell me when you're ready."
That answer stung more than it should have. "You don't trust me."
Her eyes lifted, steady. "You don't make it easy to."
The honesty in her voice hit like a blade.
He set his drink down, walking toward her slowly. "I've done things that would destroy most people, Isabelle. And I never wanted you to see that part of me."
"I already have," she whispered. "And I stayed."
He stopped in front of her. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other two storms colliding in silence.
But something in her gaze flickered, just barely guilt.
He caught it.
He always did.
"What are you hiding from me?" he asked quietly.
Her fingers tightened around the glass. "I don't know what you mean."
He crouched slightly so they were eye level. "Don't lie to me, Isabelle."
Her breath hitched. "You don't get to demand honesty when you're still keeping ghosts behind locked doors."
The words hit home. He straightened slowly, exhaling through his nose. "This again."
"Yes," she said, standing. "Because I can't keep pretending your past isn't bleeding into our present. Whoever Evelyn was, whatever she knew it's not gone, is it?"
He froze. Her name on Isabelle's lips it was like hearing a dead woman whisper.
"How do you know about Evelyn?" he asked softly.
Her lips parted just a fraction too late. "You mentioned her once."
He studied her face. Every microexpression, every flicker of fear. It was the kind of silence that told him she was protecting something.
He stepped closer. "What did you find, Isabelle?"
Her pulse jumped visibly at her throat. "Nothing."
"Don't," he said sharply, grabbing her wrist before she could turn away. His grip wasn't rough, but firm enough that she froze. "If you know something, tell me now. This isn't a game."
She met his gaze, tears burning in her eyes. "Then stop treating me like I'm something fragile to hide behind walls!"
The sound of her voice cracked something open in him. His anger melted instantly into guilt.
He released her hand, stepping back. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I didn't mean"
But she'd already turned away, wiping her tears quickly. "You keep saying you're sorry, Sebastian. But you never stop keeping me in the dark."
He wanted to tell her everything about Evelyn, the betrayal, the fire that had taken more than one life. But the truth was a wound he'd stitched too tightly to ever reopen without bleeding out completely.
Still, the way she was shaking broke him.
He took a slow step forward, then another, until he was close enough to touch her. "You think I don't want to tell you," he said softly. "But some truths don't save you, Isabelle. They burn you."
She looked up at him, eyes shimmering. "Maybe I need to burn a little to understand you."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The tension between them wasn't anger anymore it was something heavier, rawer.
He reached out, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away. "You shouldn't love me," he whispered. "It'll destroy you."
She leaned into his touch. "Then let it."
Something inside him broke. He kissed her not with hunger, but with desperation. The kind of kiss that begged for forgiveness without words.
She kissed him back, but he could feel the hesitation in her breath, the secret she still carried beneath her ribs.
When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his chest. "I just need you to trust me," she whispered.
"I do," he lied.
Because he couldn't not fully.
Not when the ghost of Evelyn still lingered between them.
Not when Isabelle's eyes held the same flicker of fear Evelyn's once did.
He held her close anyway, burying his face in her hair. "Sleep," he murmured. "You're safe now."
But as her breathing evened against him, Sebastian's eyes stayed open cold, sharp, calculating.
Tomorrow, he would find out what she was hiding.
Whatever it took.