Chapter 4: Nowhere Is Safe

The moment the gunfire outside stopped, a heavy silence filled the air.

Isabella pressed herself against the wall, her breath uneven. She could hear footsteps crunching against dead leaves, slow and measured, like a predator closing in on its prey.

Jason gripped his wounded arm, his gun still raised despite the blood seeping through his shirt. His face was pale, but his blue eyes were sharp. “They’re waiting,” he muttered. “Trying to make us panic.”

Isabella tightened her grip on her weapon. “They don’t need to. We’re already out of options.”

Alexander groaned from the couch, his face slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow, and she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

He wouldn’t last much longer.

Jason cursed under his breath. “We need to get out of here. Fast.”

“Through where?” Isabella hissed. “Front door’s a kill zone. Windows are covered.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. He turned his head slightly, listening.

Then—

A slow clap echoed from outside.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled.

Isabella’s stomach twisted. Vince Carter.

His voice alone sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Looks like the great Isabella and her little pet project have finally run out of places to hide.”

Jason muttered a curse. “Of all the damn people…”

Vince Carter wasn’t just any mercenary. He was ruthless, methodical, and sadistic—someone who enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill. If he was here, it meant one thing—whoever had sent him wanted them dead, not captured.

“I’m feeling generous tonight,” Vince continued. “Hand over Alexander, and I’ll consider letting you both crawl away in one piece.”

Lies.

Jason scoffed. “You’re hilarious, Carter. Let me guess—you’ll shoot us the second we step out?”

Vince chuckled. “Now, Jason, that hurts. Where’s the trust?”

Jason turned to Isabella. “We’re cornered.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

A beat of silence passed. Then—

BOOM.

The front door exploded inward.

Trapped Like Prey

The blast knocked Isabella off her feet, sending her crashing into the wall. Smoke and dust filled the air. Her ears rang.

Through the haze, she saw figures moving in the doorway, their weapons raised.

Jason was already firing. He dropped to one knee, unloading his clip, forcing them back. But there were too many.

A bullet grazed his shoulder, sending him staggering.

“Jason!” Isabella grabbed him, dragging him toward cover.

More gunshots ripped through the wooden walls, splinters flying like shrapnel.

Alexander coughed weakly. His body was trembling, his strength fading fast.

Jason gritted his teeth, reloading his gun with bloody fingers. “We’re screwed.”

“We’re not dead yet,” Isabella shot back.

Jason let out a humorless laugh. “Give it five minutes.”

More footsteps. Closer.

Vince’s smooth, taunting voice carried over the gunfire.

“You know how this ends, sweetheart. Just give me Alexander, and we’ll call it a night.”

Isabella’s blood boiled. “Like hell.”

Jason exhaled. “Then we need a plan. Now.

Isabella’s eyes darted around the cabin. The only way out was the basement hatch—but that meant getting across the room without getting shot.

No choice.

“Cover me,” she whispered.

Jason barely nodded before popping out of cover and firing wildly toward the door.

Isabella grabbed Alexander. He was barely conscious, his weight heavy against her.

“Stay with me,” she murmured.

Gunfire exploded around them as she dragged him toward the hatch.

Almost there.

Almost—

A figure stepped into her path.

Vince Carter.

A Fight in the Dark

Vince smirked. “Going somewhere?”

He raised his gun—

Jason tackled him from the side, sending them both crashing into the floor.

Vince twisted, slamming his elbow into Jason’s wounded arm. Jason grunted in pain but held on, struggling for control of Vince’s gun.

Isabella didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a broken chair leg and swung it.

Crack.

It smashed across Vince’s head, sending him stumbling.

Jason yanked Vince’s gun free and fired—but Vince dodged at the last second.

The bullet grazed his side, but he didn’t slow down. He lunged forward, grabbing Jason by the throat and slamming him into the wall.

Jason choked, his grip weakening.

Isabella rushed forward—but Vince anticipated it.

He spun, catching her wrist, and twisted.

Pain flared up her arm as her gun clattered to the floor.

“You’re tough,” Vince mused. “I’ll give you that.”

Isabella spat in his face.

Vince’s expression darkened. “That was a mistake.”

He raised his gun to her head.

A gunshot rang out.

Vince froze.

His eyes widened in shock—before his body slumped forward, blood spreading across his chest.

Jason stood behind him, panting, his gun smoking. “You talk too much.”

Vince hit the ground. Dead.

Jason exhaled sharply. “You okay?”

Isabella nodded, heart pounding. “We need to move.”

Jason grabbed Alexander, lifting him with a pained grunt. “Let’s go.”

Isabella threw open the hatch.

They disappeared into the darkness just as more gunmen stormed the cabin.

Escape to the River

The tunnel was cramped and damp, the air thick with earth and rot.

Jason’s breathing was ragged as he carried Alexander. Blood dripped from his wounds, but he didn’t stop.

Isabella led the way, her flashlight cutting through the dark. “We’re almost there.”

Behind them, muffled voices echoed.

“They found the hatch,” Jason growled.

“We just need to reach the river,” Isabella said. “If we make it across, we can lose them in the woods.”

Jason gritted his teeth. “Then move.”

The tunnel opened up onto the riverbank, moonlight reflecting off the water. The sound of rushing currents filled the air.

Jason collapsed against a tree, completely spent.

Alexander’s eyes barely opened. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

“He’s fading,” Isabella said, panic creeping into her voice.

Jason forced himself up. “We need a doctor.”

“Where?” Isabella demanded. “We can’t go to a hospital. They’ll be waiting.”

Jason hesitated. Then—

“I know a place.”

She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

Jason met her gaze. “I trust him."

Behind them, shouts rang out from the tunnel.

Isabella clenched her fists. “They’re coming.”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “Then let’s disappear.”

Without another word, they vanished into the forest—leaving their enemies behind.

The Hunt Begins

The sharp crack of branches snapping under heavy boots echoed through the darkened forest. Shadows flickered between the trees, illuminated by the occasional sweep of flashlight beams. Vince’s men were close—too close.

Isabella’s breath came fast, her heart pounding in her ears as she pushed forward. The weight of Alexander’s body, limp and fevered, slowed her down, but she refused to let him go. Jason, struggling with his own injuries, stumbled beside her.

"We can’t outrun them forever," Jason gritted out, gripping his wounded shoulder. Blood leaked between his fingers.

"We don’t have to," Isabella shot back, her voice low. "We just have to get to the river."

Jason exhaled sharply, glancing behind them. The dim glow of flashlights was getting closer, the voices of their pursuers growing louder.

"These guys aren’t stopping," he muttered. "And they’ve got dogs."

A chill ran through Isabella that had nothing to do with the night air. They were being hunted.

A Dangerous crossing

The river appeared through the trees, a silver ribbon in the moonlight, its surface moving fast.

Jason hesitated. "That water’s gonna be freezing."

"Would you rather be shot?" Isabella snapped.

Jason clenched his jaw. "Fair point."

With no time to lose, Isabella waded in first, gripping Alexander tightly. The cold was instantaneous, biting through her clothes like knives.

Jason followed, teeth gritted against the chill. The current was strong, pulling at them, dragging their legs from beneath them.

"Keep his head above water!" Jason ordered, splashing toward them.

Alexander let out a weak groan, but he was barely conscious.

Behind them, the shouts erupted into chaos.

"They’re in the water!" someone yelled.

Gunfire split the air.

Bullets punched into the river, sending up sharp splashes around them.

Jason swore. "They’ve got a sniper!"

"Just keep moving!" Isabella gasped, forcing herself forward. The current dragged her under for a second, water filling her nose, her lungs burning.

She resurfaced with a gasp, clutching Alexander tighter.

Jason grabbed the fallen tree jutting out from the river. "Here! Climb up!"

Isabella hauled Alexander onto the log, using the last of her strength to pull herself up beside him. Jason followed, dripping, teeth clenched.

They were soaked, freezing, and exhausted—but alive.

For now.

Pinned Down

The gunfire hadn’t stopped.

A shot whizzed past Isabella’s head, splintering bark beside her.

"Sniper on the ridge!" Jason growled, grabbing his own weapon.

"Can you hit him?" Isabella asked.

Jason wiped blood from his mouth. "Not in the dark."

More flashlights appeared on the opposite bank.

"They’re flanking us," Isabella realized, her stomach twisting.

Jason swore under his breath. "They were expecting this."

A deep, menacing howl carried through the air.

The dogs.

"They’ve got tracking dogs," Jason muttered. "Damn it, we need a plan."

Isabella’s mind raced. They were trapped between the river and Vince’s men. Alexander was barely hanging on. Jason was bleeding badly.

They wouldn’t survive a firefight.

"We make a break for the road," she decided.

Jason narrowed his eyes. "And if they’re waiting?"

"We fight."

Jason gave a breathless laugh. "You always go for the suicide plans."

Isabella managed a smirk. "Yeah. And we always survive."

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

They moved fast, slipping through the trees as quietly as possible. The sound of barking dogs grew louder.

Isabella’s stomach clenched. They were running out of time.

The Roadblock

The trees thinned ahead, revealing a narrow, empty road.

For a second, hope flickered in Isabella’s chest—

Until the headlights blinded her.

Jason grabbed her, yanking her behind a tree as a vehicle skidded to a stop.

The doors flew open.

Isabella raised her gun—ready to fight—

Then she saw him.

A man stepped out, his long black coat swirling in the night breeze. His gray eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unreadable.

Jason tensed beside her. Recognition flickered in his gaze.

"Dante."

Isabella’s pulse spiked.

"You said we could trust him?" she whispered.

Jason didn’t answer.

Dante’s gaze swept over them, lingering on Alexander’s barely-conscious form. Then, in a calm, commanding voice, he said:

"Get in."

No hesitation. No explanation.

Just a command.

Jason glanced at Isabella. They didn’t have a choice.

With Vince’s men closing in, the dogs getting closer, and Alexander on the brink of death—

They got in.

Dante didn’t wait. The tires screeched, the vehicle roaring down the road.

The Price of Help

Inside the vehicle, silence stretched thick and heavy.

Alexander groaned, his skin pale. Isabella pressed a hand to his forehead. Still burning up.

Jason wiped blood from his face and turned to Dante. "Vince is dead. But his men aren’t going to let this go."

Dante’s expression remained unreadable. "Killing a man like Vince doesn’t end the war. It starts one."

Isabella’s jaw tightened. "Who’s in charge now?"

Dante exhaled, watching the road ahead. "Most likely his right-hand man, Callum."

Jason cursed under his breath. "Callum’s worse than Vince. Smarter. Meaner. And he’s got a personal reason to come after us."

Dante’s lips curved slightly. "Then I suppose you’ll need to disappear for a while."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want in return?"

Dante’s gaze flicked to Isabella.

"Let’s discuss that when you’re not bleeding all over my car."

A Debt to Be Paid

The ride was silent, except for the hum of the engine and Alexander’s shallow breathing. Every bump in the road sent pain through his body, and Isabella tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to hold on.

Jason sat beside her, wiping the blood from his temple with the back of his hand. His other hand rested near his gun, muscles tense. Across from him, Dante remained eerily calm, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead.

He hadn't said much since they got in the car. That alone made Isabella nervous.

Dante wasn’t a man who did favors.

"You still haven’t told us where we’re going," Jason muttered, breaking the silence.

Dante smirked. "A safe house, as promised."

"Yours?" Isabella pressed.

"Of course."

Jason exhaled sharply. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."

A favor from Dante never came free.

The Safe House

Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled up to a secluded estate, hidden deep in the forest. It wasn’t just a safe house—it was a fortress.

Tall, iron gates slid open, revealing a modern mansion surrounded by security cameras. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter.

"Some safe house," Jason muttered.

Dante’s smirk didn’t fade. "I take my security seriously."

The vehicle rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance. Two men in black suits were already waiting. One of them—a man with graying hair and an expression like steel—stepped forward as Dante opened the door.

"Take him inside," Dante ordered, gesturing to Alexander.

Isabella hesitated. "Where?"

"My doctor is already waiting."

She didn’t trust Dante. But right now, trust wasn’t an option.

With a final glance at Jason, she nodded, helping the guards carry Alexander inside.

The Doctor’s Verdict

Inside, the house was just as intimidating as the outside. Dark wood floors. Expensive furniture. Security cameras in every corner.

They took Alexander to a private medical room, where a middle-aged doctor in glasses was already preparing equipment.

"Gunshot wound, high fever," Isabella said quickly. "He’s lost a lot of blood."

The doctor nodded briskly. "Leave him with me."

Isabella refused to move.

"He’s in good hands," Dante assured her. "Now, let’s talk business."

Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We knew this was coming."

Dante gestured toward his office down the hall. "Shall we?"

Reluctantly, Isabella followed.

The Price of Help

Dante’s office was immaculate, filled with leather chairs and dark bookshelves. A single glass of whiskey sat on his desk, untouched.

Dante took his seat, folding his hands together.

"I assume you already know," he began, "that your little stunt has put you on Callum’s radar."

Jason scoffed. "Yeah. We figured."

"He’s out for blood," Dante continued. "And you don’t have the manpower to fight him."

Isabella hated that he was right.

"We’ll figure it out," she said stiffly.

Dante arched a brow. "Will you? Because from where I’m sitting, you have two choices: run, or die."

Jason exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And I’m guessing you have a third option."

Dante smirked. "Of course."

He leaned forward, eyes locked on Isabella.

"I want you to do something for me."

A chill ran down her spine.

"What?" she asked cautiously.

Dante picked up his whiskey glass but didn’t drink. "There’s someone I need taken care of. A problem that’s been bothering me for a while."

Jason’s expression darkened. "You want us to kill someone."

"Think of it as an exchange."

Isabella’s stomach twisted. They had just escaped one death sentence—was Dante offering them another?

"Who?" she asked.

Dante smiled. "A man named Elias Moretti. A former associate who’s been… problematic."

Jason stiffened. "Moretti?"

"You know him?"

Jason’s jaw clenched. "Yeah. He’s worse than Callum."

Isabella’s pulse quickened. "Why not do it yourself?"

Dante’s eyes darkened. "Because I need it done quietly. No one can trace it back to me."

Silence stretched.

Dante leaned back in his chair. "It’s simple. You handle Moretti, and I make sure Callum never touches you."

It wasn’t simple at all.

But what choice did they have?

No Way Out

Jason dragged a hand through his hair. "This is a suicide mission."

"Not necessarily," Dante mused. "You’re both resourceful."

"And if we say no?" Isabella asked.

Dante shrugged. "You’re free to leave. But I

imagine Callum’s men are already looking for you."

Jason muttered a curse under his breath.

Isabella’s mind spun with options, but none of them led to safety.

Jason met her gaze. "This is insane."

"I know," she murmured.

They had no leverage. No backup. No other options.

Dante’s offer wasn’t a favor—it was a trap.

And they had just walked into it.

A Deal Sealed in Blood

Jason’s hands curled into fists. "If we do this, we do it our way."

Dante smirked. "Of course."

Jason exhaled. "Fine."

Dante’s smirk widened. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder.

"Then let’s get started."

Whispers in the Dark

The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across the room, flickering against the cold, sterile walls of Dante’s safe house.

Alexander lay motionless on the bed, his breathing steady but shallow. His shirt had been removed, replaced with thick bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. The fever had finally begun to break, but his skin was still damp with sweat.

Isabella sat beside him, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand, grounding herself in the reality that he was still here. Still alive.

She let out a slow breath. The relief was temporary.

They weren’t safe. Not yet.

Holding On

Jason had left hours ago to speak with Dante, but Isabella couldn’t bring herself to leave Alexander’s side.

She reached for a damp cloth, pressing it gently against his forehead. His skin burned beneath her touch, but his expression was calm—peaceful in a way she rarely saw.

Her mind kept replaying the moment he collapsed in her arms. The way his body had trembled, the sheer terror of losing him tightening like a noose around her chest.

He almost died.

A shudder ran through her.

"You’re staring."

Her breath hitched.

Alexander’s voice was hoarse but laced with amusement. His blue eyes—though slightly hazy from exhaustion—held hers in a lazy, knowing gaze.

She quickly looked away. "You scared the hell out of me."

His lips curved slightly. "Not my intention."

"Yeah, well, you have a terrible habit of almost dying," she muttered.

Alexander’s smirk deepened, but the moment he shifted, a sharp hiss escaped him, his hand flying to his side.

"Stop moving," Isabella scolded, pressing him back against the pillows.

He exhaled, eyes fluttering shut. "You’re bossy."

"You’re reckless," she shot back.

Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable.

Then, softly—so softly she almost missed it—he murmured, "But you stayed."

Her chest tightened.

She had. Even when she should’ve run, she had stayed.

A Moment of Truth

Minutes passed in silence, the air between them charged with something unspoken.

Alexander’s hand shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against hers. It wasn’t an accident.

Isabella didn’t pull away.

Instead, she turned her hand, intertwining their fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers.

His thumb traced small circles against her palm—a gesture so gentle, so intimate that it made her breath hitch.

"You don’t have to do this," he murmured.

Her brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"Take care of me."

A hollow laugh escaped her. "Are you serious? After everything we’ve been through?"

His gaze softened. "I just mean... you could’ve left me with the doctor. You didn’t have to be here."

Her throat tightened.

I wanted to be here.

The thought was terrifying in its honesty.

Instead, she forced a smirk. "You’d be lost without me."

His lips twitched. "Debatable."

She raised a brow. "Oh really? Who stopped you from bleeding out?"

"Jason."

"Who dragged you into this house?"

"Technically, the guards."

She rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

Alexander chuckled, but it was cut short as pain flashed across his face, his jaw clenching.

"Alex—"

"I’m fine," he gritted out.

She wasn’t convinced.

Her fingers tightened around his. "You don’t have to pretend with me."

He exhaled slowly, looking at her—not just at her, but through her.

Something shifted in the space between them.

The air felt heavier, charged with emotions neither of them dared to name.

Alexander’s hand lifted—hesitant, almost unsure—before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Isabella froze, her heart hammering against her ribs.

His fingers lingered for a second too long.

Her breath hitched.

The space between them felt smaller now.

Too close.

Not close enough.

The Weight of a Name

Before either of them could say anything, a knock at the door shattered the moment.

Isabella jolted, pulling back just as Jason stepped in.

"Dante wants to see you," he said, looking directly at her.

She frowned. "Now?"

Jason nodded.

Her stomach twisted uneasily.

Alexander’s brows furrowed. "What does he want?"

Jason’s jaw tightened. "That’s what we need to find out."

Isabella turned back to Alexander, torn between staying and getting the answers they desperately needed.

He must’ve seen the hesitation in her eyes because he forced a smirk. "Go. I’ll be here."

She squeezed his hand one last time before pulling away.

Jason held the door open, and as she stepped into the hallway, a single thought plagued her mind.

The Devil’s Bargain

Dante was waiting for her in his office, standing near the window, his hands in his pockets.

"How’s your wounded soldier?" he asked without turning around.

Isabella’s guard shot up instantly.

"What do you want, Dante?" she asked.

He finally turned, his smirk sharp. "Suspicious, are we?"

"Considering you don’t do favors without expecting something in return, yes."

His laughter was smooth, calculated. "You wound me."

She crossed her arms. "Cut the act."

Dante sighed, moving toward his desk. "Fine. I was just wondering how much you trust me."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"You came to me for help," he mused, "but I can see it in your eyes—you don’t trust me."

She didn’t answer.

Because he was right.

Dante leaned against the desk, his smirk never fading. "You should be careful, Isabella. Callum isn’t the only one playing a game here."

Her stomach clenched.

"What does that mean?"

Dante tilted his head, as if debating whether to answer. Then, with a smirk, he simply said:

"Think carefully about whose side you’re on."

Her pulse quickened.

There was a warning in his tone, something subtle yet undeniable.

She didn’t trust Dante.

But what if he was right?

What if there was more to this game than they realized?

And what if the real danger wasn’t Callum—but something much closer?