Chapter 6
Nate
The moment her voice cracks—“Now.”—something snaps inside me.
I’ve been holding it together, keeping it calm, composed. But hearing the word? It shatters every last thread of restraint.
We don’t go back inside. I keep her close, lead her through the side gate, my phone already in hand. One call. That’s all it’ll take.
I tap the contact. He picks up on the second ring.
“Lieutenant Mercer.”
“Hey, it’s Weister. I need a favor.”
A pause. “What kind?”
“The kind that requires a bird and no questions asked.”
Another pause. Then a low chuckle. “You always were a dramatic bastard. Where to?”
“Inverness.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. I’ll owe you.”
“You already do.” But he’s already moving. “I can have a Black Hawk prepped within thirty.”
“I’ll send you my location and thank you.”
I hang up and tuck the phone away, turning back to Isabel. She’s silent beside me, eyes rimmed red, cheeks pale. She’s trying to stay strong, but I can see the weight crushing her. It’s familiar—I’ve seen soldiers carry less and still fall apart.
I don’t touch her. Not yet. She needs space, not more hands on her. But I keep myself close enough that if she sways, I’ll catch her. If she falls, I’ll carry her.
The cold air bites at my skin, but I welcome it. Keeps me grounded. Keeps me from storming back in there and decking her father in front of everyone.
I turn to Isabel, who’s hugging herself like she’s trying to hold all the broken pieces in place. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, and she’s pale in that way that tells me her adrenaline’s crashing.
I drape my jacket over her shoulders when I notice her shivering.
She glances up at me, startled. “You always do this.”
“What?”
“Step in. Fix things. Even when I haven’t said them out loud.”
“Izzy.” My voice is low, steady. “We’ve got a ride coming. You trust me?”
Her chin quivers as she nods while I grab her hand and walk her away. “Where are we going?”
“Inverness. My family’s old chalet. Remote. Quiet. No one will find us there.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “And how exactly are we getting to Inverness? It’d be a hell of a ride.”
I give her a faint, almost crooked smile. “Black Hawk.”
She looks lost while we’re tucked behind the stables, waiting. It’s the only part of the estate that’s far enough from the main manor and away from curious eyes.
Ten minutes later, we hear the familiar sound of rotors cutting through the sky.
She stiffens beside me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, my arm wrapping around her shoulder now. “It’s ours.”
The Black Hawk touches down in the field behind the stables. Mercer jumps out, nodding to me with that smug grin I’ve hated since boot camp.
“Damn, Weister. When you said ‘favor,’ I didn’t think ‘kidnap a woman.’”
“I’m not kidnapping her,” I say, my tone flat. “She’s family.”
Mercer glances at Isabel, then back at me. He sobers instantly. “Copy that. Your flight plan’s filed under weather surveillance. No one’s asking questions.”
I help Isabel up the ramp, shielding her from the wind with my body. She doesn’t say much, but her hand grips mine tight.
Once we’re buckled in, the helicopter lifts. She turns her head toward the window, watching the estate fade beneath us like a bad dream. Her breathing is shaky. Erratic.
I gently rest a hand on her back and take a deep breath myself. Fuck! This is not how I pictured our date.
The helicopter touches down with a soft thud in a snow-covered clearing behind the chalet. I can already feel the cold creeping in, but it’s nothing compared to the storm I’m trying to leave behind.
As the rotor blades slow to a stop, I look over at Isabel. She’s still staring out the window, but I see the tiniest tremor run through her.
“Hey.” I slide my hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. For a second, the icy mask she wears falters, and I see the raw vulnerability underneath. The kind of hurt I’d like to burn down if I could.
“I’m fine,” she says, but it’s more a statement of survival than reassurance.
“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” I stand first, helping her out of the seat. She’s stiff, tentative, like she’s not entirely sure she can trust her own feet right now.
We step out of the chopper, and the wind is sharp, biting, but it’s the kind of cold that feels different when you’re running from something. It’s the kind of cold that reminds you there’s something real beyond the chaos.
I don’t waste any time—leading her up to the front of the chalet. The building is simple but well-kept, an old family place that’s seen better days, but I’ve always liked the isolation it offers. And tonight, isolation feels like a gift.
Inside, the warmth greets us like a soft wave. We are not prepared for this weather and I fucked up. Shit! It’s quiet here, no servants, no distant relatives to worry about. Just us. The place is kinda clean which means the housekeeper is still doing her job.
Isabel is standing by the door, still scanning the room like it’s going to eat her. I try not to crowd her. She needs space, even if it’s just for a moment.
“I’ll get the fire going.” I move to the hearth. I start preparing the logs, lighting the match and watching the flames begin to flicker. The orange glow fills the room with a sense of life, something warm to hold onto. I don’t think she’s ready for anything deeper yet, so I don’t push it.
When the fire is crackling, I turn to her. She’s standing near the window, her arms crossed, staring outside.
“Want something to drink?” I offer. “Whiskey? Tea?”
She shakes her head slowly, then glances at me, her eyes soft with confusion and exhaustion. “I never thought I’d end up here.”
“Yeah, well. It’s the first place that came to my mind.”
That gets her to smile, just a little. It’s small, but it’s there, and that’s enough for me. I walk over, standing beside her by the window.
The snow outside is falling in slow, deliberate flakes. The world is still.
“I’m sorry,” I say, breaking the silence between us.
“What for?” She raises her beautiful eyes to look at me.
I wipe her tears, losing myself in that beautiful sea. “For these.”
She closes her eyes and breathes in.
“Shall we go for a take out?” Her stomach grumbles, “We better see what we could order up here.”
She shrugs, and steps closer to hug me. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her head.
It feels damn good. Shipping her off her feet, I pick her up and get on the couch near the fire.
She’s freezing but says nothing, just clings to me.
I let her, while taking the cell phone out and scrolling to see what I can order for dinner.
Not that we have plenty of options but pizza.
There’s still a heaviness between us, but there’s something quieter now. Something more certain. After a dinner she barely touched, the weight of the past hour is still hanging around us, but I can feel her starting to let go, piece by piece.
“What are our options?” I ask her, my voice low, careful.
She doesn’t look at me when she answers. “They can’t force us to marry. Not legally. But they can strip us of our titles. The trust funds. The land, the legacy.”
I let that sink in. It’s not news to me. I know how the old families play. Punishment disguised as tradition.
“I don’t care about the title,” I say. “They can have the damn name. But I know what your trust means to you. Your work. Your future.”
She turns her head to me now. “Nathan…”
“So here’s my offer,” I say, cutting gently through her protest. “We do it. We get married. For three months. Keep them quiet. Buy you time to plan your exit.”
She stares, stunned.
“You’ll be able to keep your title. Your dad won’t have the leverage. I’ll be deployed again soon. You’ll barely see me. No pressure. No obligations. Just a formality to keep the wolves at bay.” I rub my temples, “Playing their games but at our rules.”
“Then?” she asks softly.
“Then we part ways. Annul it. I walk out, you rebuild, and they lose their leverage.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time.
Then—”You’d do that for me?”
I turn on my side, propping my head on my hand so I can see her clearly.
“For you?” I say, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’d burn the whole damn estate down.”
“I can’t.” she swallows hard.
“Why?”
“Because I can't make you happy, and I can't pretend it either.” Her voice trembles.
“Then don't, just be yourself.” I shrug feeling so fucking selfish but I know if we go against them there’ll be some kind of repercussions and I’m sure this time I’ll lose it. “And who says you wouldn't make me happy?”
“I'm an empty shell, Nathan. I don't know what it means to be loved or to love someone,” her voice drops.
Lifting her chin, I force her to look at me. “You’re a wonderful woman, and anyone would be happy to have you by his side. I know for sure you're not empty.”
We look at each other for a few minutes. I'm dying to kiss her, but I don’t. Now that I know Isabel is my Izzy, the attraction I feel for her gets bigger. We talk a little more trying to figure out what to do and all the pros and cons of this insane plan.
“I'm going to take a shower, then sleep.” She gets up off the couch and stretches her back. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
“The master bedroom is yours,” I say without hesitation.
Her eyes snap open. “What?”
“You need to rest.”
“I can take the bedroom we used as kids.”
Chuckling, I shake my head, “No way, the king size bed suits you better.” Plus I’m not even sure if that room has been renovated or is still a bedroom.