Chapter 63

The rain pelted against the windows of the safe house, a rhythmic tapping that should have been calming-but for Isabella, it only heightened the tension in the air. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, flickering slightly as the storm raged outside.

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at the cold that had settled in her bones. Or maybe it wasn't the cold. Maybe it was him.

Enzo stood by the window, his silhouette strong against the faint city lights. His shirt clung to him, still damp from their frantic escape earlier that night. He was silent, unmoving, watching the rain as if waiting for something. Or someone.

"You're thinking too much," Isabella murmured, stepping closer.

His head turned slightly, those dark eyes flickering toward her before settling back on the outside world. "Thinking keeps us alive."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "So does resting."

Enzo finally turned, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a moment, the tension in the air shifted. It wasn't just danger that hovered between them. It was something else, something unspoken and dangerous in its own way.

They were inches apart now. Close enough that Isabella could see the rough edges of exhaustion lining his face, the way his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something-but didn't.

She lifted a hand, hesitated, then let it rest against his jaw. "You saved me. Again."

His eyes darkened. "I always will."

A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Isabella swallowed, pulse hammering against her ribs. Maybe it was reckless, maybe it was selfish, but for once, she didn't want to think about running or fighting or dying. Just this. Just him.

She leaned in, slowly, giving him time to stop her if he wanted to. He didn't.

And then-

CRACK!

The glass behind them exploded, sending shards flying through the room. Enzo moved on instinct, grabbing Isabella and yanking her down just as bullets tore through the walls.

"Move!" he hissed, pulling her behind the overturned couch.

Isabella's breath was coming in sharp bursts. "They found us."

Another round of gunfire peppered the room, splintering wood and shattering what was left of their cover.

Enzo met her gaze, his expression unreadable but fierce. "We're getting out of here. Now."

The night was thick with mist as they bolted through the alley, their feet splashing through puddles. Enzo gripped Isabella's wrist, pulling her behind him as the echoes of gunfire rang out from the safehouse.

"We need a car," Isabella panted.

Enzo didn't answer. He was already scanning the alley when his eyes locked onto a battered black sedan parked a few feet away. Without hesitation, he yanked the door open and slid inside, reaching under the dashboard.

"You know how to hotwire a car?" Isabella asked, slightly impressed.

"I know a lot of things." The engine roared to life. "Get in."

She barely had time to shut the door before the screech of tires filled the alley-Moretti's men were on them.

The sedan lurched forward, speeding into the wet streets, headlights reflecting off the slick pavement. Behind them, two black SUVs followed, their engines growling like hungry beasts.

"Hold on," Enzo warned.

The car skidded around a sharp corner, nearly clipping a parked motorcycle. Isabella barely had time to breathe before-

BANG!

A bullet shattered the rear windshield.

"They're shooting at us!" Isabella exclaimed.

Enzo kept his focus ahead. "That's usually what people do when they're trying to kill you."

She glared at him. "Oh, so now you have jokes?"

Before he could respond, a masked figure on a motorcycle pulled up beside them, a gun aimed directly at Isabella's head.

"Duck!" Enzo ordered.

She did-just as the gun fired, the bullet whizzing past where her head had been seconds ago.

Enzo snarled and yanked the steering wheel hard to the left.

The car swerved violently, slamming into the motorcycle. The rider lost control, the bike flipping into the air before crashing in a shower of sparks.

But there was no time to celebrate.

More bullets. More tires screeching. Moretti's SUVs were still on their tail.

"We're not gonna make it at this speed," Isabella muttered.

Enzo's jaw clenched. "Then we don't."

And just like that, he whipped the car toward a warehouse, crashing through the rusted gates.

The impact threw Isabella forward, the seatbelt digging into her chest as the car finally came to a halt-smoke curling from the hood.

Silence.

Then-footsteps.

Enzo cursed under his breath. "They're coming."

Isabella groaned, head throbbing. "You think?"

The warehouse was dark, save for a few flickering overhead lights casting long, eerie shadows. The air was thick with dust, the scent of rust and old oil lingering in the space.

Isabella winced as she touched the side of her head, where a small trickle of blood ran down her temple. "That's gonna leave a mark."

Enzo was already by her side, his fingers gently tilting her face toward the light. His touch was careful, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

"You're bleeding," he muttered.

"I've noticed," she replied dryly.

He tore a strip from his already-ruined shirt and pressed it against the wound, his hands steady but his jaw tight. "You shouldn't have been this close to the fight."

Isabella snorted. "Oh, right, because next time I'll just let them kill me."

His grip on her chin tightened slightly. "That's not funny."

She softened. "I know."

For a moment, there was only silence. The tension from earlier-the moment in the safehouse before the bullets-was still there, lingering between them like a ghost.

Enzo exhaled, his thumb brushing over her cheek. His voice was lower when he spoke. "I can't lose you."

The words sent a sharp, unexpected ache through her chest. Isabella opened her mouth to respond, but-

A sound.

A soft scuff of a boot against the concrete floor.

They weren't alone.

Enzo's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His body tensed, his eyes flicking toward the shadows, and in one swift move-he pulled Isabella against him, shielding her with his body as he reached for his gun.

Footsteps echoed closer.

Isabella pressed herself against his chest, heart pounding. "How many?" she whispered.

His grip on his gun tightened. "Enough to be a problem."

A shadow moved in the corner of her vision. Then another.

They were surrounded.

And there was no way out.