Isabella's POV
When she opened her eyes, there was only silence.
No gunfire. No thunder. Just the faint hum of an engine and the rhythmic pulse of rain against glass.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Then her gaze fell on Sebastian unconscious on the narrow bed beside her, his arm bandaged, face pale beneath streaks of dried blood.
She exhaled shakily. They had made it.
Barely.
The jet had touched down hours ago, in a private airstrip deep in the mountains one of Sebastian's safehouses, hidden from every government database. The world thought they were dead. The mansion's wreckage had burned until dawn.
But the world was wrong.
She pressed a cool cloth against his forehead, her chest aching at the sight of him. This man ruthless, dangerous, impossible had thrown himself into fire for her.
Her fingers brushed his jawline gently. "You should've let me take the bullet, you idiot."
