Chapter 14 #2
I exhaled slowly, trying to shove the burn in my chest back down.
“I’m doing it because the closer I get, the more trust he gives me, the safer he feels beside me…
the better chance I have of getting what I came for.
Answers. The truth about what happened to my parents.
And if that means playing the part until he lets his guard down, then so be it. ”
Kellan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing it a little too well.”
Ash raised a brow but didn’t speak—just watched us.
“You’re getting too close,” Kellan added, tone lower now, rougher. “That wasn’t the plan. You weren’t supposed to get tangled in his bed or his goddamn mind. You were supposed to stay ahead of him.”
“I haven’t forgotten the plan,” I snapped.
“But you forgot what he is?”
I flinched at that, just slightly. He saw it.
Silence stretched like wire. Ash finally leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then what’s the next move? Are you planning on following them tonight?”
I didn’t answer right away. My head was already there, ticking through the possibilities like a puzzle laid out under moonlight. I could still hear Rafael’s voice from earlier. Could still feel the pull I hated that I didn’t hate.
“I haven’t decided,” I murmured.
Kellan let out a breath, sharp and tired. “You already have.”
I didn’t deny it. Because he wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t need to look at Kellan to know he was still glaring at me. I could feel it—like the burn of a match just before it touches skin. But I kept my voice even. Cold. “I’m going tonight.”
Ash shifted on the couch, but it was Kellan who spoke first. “No, you’re not.”
I turned to face him fully, my arms crossing. “Yes. I am.”
He ran a hand down his face, pacing again. “What the hell is wrong with you, Isa? You don’t know how many people will be there, or how dangerous it’ll be?—”
“I’ve been walking into danger my whole life,” I cut in. “This isn’t new.”
He stopped, jaw ticking, and stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
“I’m not doing this for Rafael,” I added, voice sharper now. “I need to know how deep this goes. If Damyen is working with someone else—if Viktor has his claws in this—then it all connects.”
Ash leaned forward. “So what’s the plan?”
I met his eyes. “I go. I listen. I see what I can find.”
Kellan let out a bitter laugh. “And if something goes wrong?”
I reached for my phone, unlocked it, and handed it to him. “Track me.”
Kellan stared at it, then up at me. “That’s not a plan, Isabella. That’s a suicide mission.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice but not my spine. “You want me to stay safe? Then be ready. If I don’t text or call by a certain time, you come.”
“When exactly?” Ash asked, voice low and unreadable.
I gave them the time the men had mentioned—burned into my memory like the sound of gunfire. Then turned back to Kellan. “Can you do that?”
He took the phone, eyes hard. “Of course I can. But I don’t like it.”
“You’re not supposed to,” I murmured. “None of this is supposed to be easy.”
Ash stood, his expression unreadable, arms crossed now as he looked between the two of us.
Kellan shook his head, muttering, “This was never the deal, Isa. You were supposed to get answers, not bury yourself in their war.”
“I’m not buried,” I said. “Not yet.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “You’re getting reckless.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “No. I’m getting closer.”
Two hours passed, slow and suffocating. I paced the room in silence for most of it, ignoring the way Kellan’s eyes tracked every move I made and how Ash occasionally tapped his foot against the floor like he was chewing on thoughts he didn’t know how to spit out.
Now, in the bathroom, the fluorescent light above me buzzed quietly, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the noise in my head.
I pulled the black fabric over my skin, the top fitting like a second layer of muscle and the dark pants cutting right against my waist. I tied my hair back tightly, exposing the sharp lines of my jaw. Nothing loose. Nothing that could catch. I needed to blend into shadows, not steal light.
The woman staring back at me in the mirror wasn’t the same one who arrived in Cartagena wide-eyed and calculating. This one looked like smoke—meant to disappear.
You’re not doing this for him, I reminded myself, pressing my palms against the sink. You’re doing it for them. For the answers you deserve. For the fire that still burned in your blood after all these years.
I stepped out of the bathroom, breath steady, expression blank. Kellan was seated on the couch, two laptops open in front of him. Ash sat beside him, arms crossed, but the second I walked out, they both looked up. Like soldiers waiting for a cue.
Kellan raised an eyebrow. “You’re really going.”
I walked toward them, gaze flicking to the screens—one already flashing a map, my location marked. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, standing up. “Still hoping you’d come to your senses.”
He reached behind the couch and pulled out something black, a holster. Quietly, he stepped around me and clipped it around my waist, adjusting the straps until it sat perfectly flat under my jacket. Then he pulled out a gun—small, compact. Clean. “Loaded. Safety on.”
I took it without hesitation and tucked it beneath the hem of my jacket, the cool metal pressing against my back like a whisper.
“You’ve done this before,” he said, not quite a question.
I looked at him. “More than you think.”
Ash finally spoke. “You get in trouble, you call. Don’t be a hero.”
“I’m not,” I replied. “I’m just done waiting.”
Kellan gave me a long look. “There’s no point in convincing you not to go, is there?”
I shook my head once. “None.”
He exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “The tracker’s live. I’ll ping your location every five minutes. If you go silent or off grid for longer than fifteen—we come.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Ash pushed the second laptop toward Kellan and leaned back again. “You know this is reckless, right?”
“I know,” I said. “But sometimes that’s the only way forward.”
I walked to the door, placing my hand on the handle. My pulse was calm, but I could feel something coiled deep inside my chest. Not fear. Not yet. Just that familiar pull. The same one I followed when I got too close to danger.
Kellan’s voice stopped me just before I walked out. “You better come back.”
I turned slightly, meeting his eyes. “You better be waiting when I do.”
Then I opened the door and walked into the night—alone, armed, and ready.
The quiet wrapped around me like a second skin, each step muffled by the smooth tiles of the resort hall as I made my way toward the exit. The corridors had gone still, shadows cast by the warm sconces stretching long across the walls.
My thoughts were louder than my footsteps. Every breath I took was laced with purpose, though the knot twisting in my chest made it feel like a countdown had already begun. I could still hear Kellan’s voice echoing in my head— you better come back.
I would.
But not until I had answers. Not until I knew for sure what Damyen was planning.
The air grew warmer as I approached the resort doors, the weight of the gun resting against my lower back grounding me more than I cared to admit. I was nearly at the threshold when something sharp cut through the stillness.
A scent. Thick. Familiar. Weed.
I slowed, my boots scraping lightly against the ground as I turned my head. There he was.
Leaning against the wall, half in shadow, shirt wrinkled and barely buttoned. Khaki shorts hanging low on his hips like they belonged to someone else. And that ever-present grin twisting the corner of his mouth like he knew things he wasn’t supposed to. Yuri.
A lit blunt dangled between his fingers, a lazy trail of smoke curling in the air beside him. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, eyes glinting. “Going for a midnight stroll, lapushka?”
I blinked, straightening subtly. “Just a walk.”
His eyes dropped to my boots, then climbed slowly to the black jacket I hadn’t taken off despite the humid air pressing down like a second atmosphere.
He chuckled low, dragging from the blunt. “Bit overdressed for a walk, don’t you think? The jacket’s a nice touch though—really screams casual beach vibes. ”
I arched a brow. “You planning to join the fashion police, or just stalk the hallways with your weed and sarcasm?”
He held up both hands in mock defense. “Guilty on both counts. But you can’t blame me for being curious. It’s not every night a woman dresses like she’s headed to war.”
“Maybe I am.”
His grin widened.
“But I’m not,” I added quickly. “Just restless.”
“Restless, huh?” He tilted his head, studying me with something far more calculating behind the easy smile. “Interesting choice of weaponry for restlessness.”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t press. Instead, he took another drag, exhaling toward the sky like he wasn’t watching me from the corner of his eye. But I knew he was. Watching everything.
“You’re not supposed to leave the property alone, you know,” he said after a moment. “Boss’s orders.”
I shrugged. “Last I checked, Rafael isn’t my warden.”
Yuri let out a quiet laugh. “No, but he does have a thing about keeping his pretty enemies breathing.”
“Then he should’ve killed me when he had the chance,” I said, stepping past him.
He made no move to stop me, just said softly behind me, “Just don’t get killed before I teach you how to throw a proper knife. You’ve got potential, but that grip—still too clean.”
I paused just long enough to glance over my shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then I kept walking. Out of the light, into the heavy heat of the Cartagena night. My thoughts sharpened with every step. I wasn’t looking back. Not this time. Not when something darker was finally within reach.