Chapter 48

The underground passageway was damp, the scent of mildew thick in the air. The walls, rough with jagged bricks, seemed to close in as Isabella struggled to keep moving. She tightened her grip around Enzo's waist, his weight pressing against her. His breathing was uneven, each inhale strained.

"You have to stay awake," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo's head dipped, his body sagging further. "Trying," he muttered, his words slurred.

They had no time. Footsteps echoed behind them-relentless, determined. Their enemies were hunting them through these tunnels, and she had no doubt they were closing in. The others were ahead, but Isabella couldn't focus on them. Keeping Enzo alive was all that mattered.

The ground beneath her was slick, forcing her to slow down. Every sound felt amplified in the silence, her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. A dim light flickered ahead, revealing outlines of rusted pipes and old maintenance doors.

Then, something shifted.

A figure further ahead, barely visible in the darkness, moved with deliberate caution. A hand raised, two fingers tapping against the tunnel wall. It was quick, subtle-almost imperceptible.

Her breath caught.

A signal.

Someone in their group was giving away their position.

Her mind raced. Who? Why? The betrayal was right in front of her, yet she had no way to act on it. Not while carrying Enzo.

His grip on her wrist suddenly tightened. "Not alone," he whispered, his voice weak but alert.

Before she could respond, the tip of her boot brushed against something thin and taut.

She froze.

A tripwire.

One more step and their escape would turn into a death.

A sharp command echoed through the tunnel, followed by a burst of movement. Shadows flickered, gunmetal glinting in the dim light.

Isabella's mind spun. They had no time to turn back, no way to go forward.

The traitor had succeeded-the enemy was already closing in.

A rough voice called out, sending shivers down her spine. "Drop your weapons and maybe we'll let you live."

She ignored it. Instead, she shifted Enzo's weight against her, bracing herself. If they hesitated, they would be cornered.

Above them, the sound of distant rumbling vibrated through the tunnel walls. Then came another sound-a blast from above, shaking the ground beneath them.

No choice now.

She yanked Enzo forward, guiding him toward an old ladder leading up. He groaned in protest, but she forced him up the rungs, following close behind.

The moment they reached the surface, the cold night air hit her skin like a slap. The exit led to an abandoned train yard, its tracks long forgotten, swallowed by overgrown weeds and rusting debris.

The group scattered, taking cover behind derailed train cars and cargo containers. Isabella barely had time to register her surroundings before an explosion tore through the night.

The force sent her flying.

Her body slammed against something solid. Pain radiated through her ribs, air knocked from her lungs. Everything spun, a ringing in her ears making it impossible to focus.

Dazed, she forced herself up, blinking through the smoke.

Then, her stomach lurched.

Enzo was on the other side of the wreckage-unmoving.

A sharp metallic taste filled Isabella's mouth as she forced herself to her feet, her body protesting every movement. The world around her was chaos-flames licking at twisted metal, the air thick with smoke.

None of it mattered.

Not when Enzo was lying on the ground, his body sprawled motionless, blood seeping into the dirt beneath him.

"No." The word barely escaped her lips before she stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside him.

His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow. A fresh wound marred his torso, his shirt dark and damp.

"Enzo," she choked, pressing her hands to his injury, trying to stop the bleeding.

His eyes fluttered open slightly, a ghost of a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. "Still alive for now," he murmured.

She swallowed hard. "Not for long if you don't stop talking and let me help you."

A sudden noise made her whip around.

A presence in the smoke.

Then-the cold press of metal against the back of her head.

Her body stiffened.

A voice, low and menacing, cut through the chaos. "Step away from him."

She didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

The gun pressed harder against her skull.

"Do it. Now."

Her fingers twitched, her mind racing.

Then, the offer came, smooth and cruel.

"Give yourself up, Isabella and I'll let him live."

Silence stretched.

Her hands trembled as she lifted them, her pulse a deafening drum in her ears.

But in her eyes, something flickered.

A silent promise.

This wasn't surrender.

This was strategy.