CAMILA POV
The rain hasn't stopped since we fled the hospital. It comes down in sheets, blurring the headlights, turning the world into streaks of gray and silver. Every flash of lightning shows Alex's face in fragments, jaw tight, knuckles white on the wheel, eyes always scanning.
He hasn't said a word since we left. The silence feels heavier than the thunder.
I stare at him, trying to read the thoughts he'll never say aloud. The storm outside feels easier to understand than the one inside him.
Finally, I break the silence.
"Ethan. Do you think he made it out?"
Alex's grip tightens just enough for me to notice. "He's resourceful."
"That's not a yes."
"No," he admits, voice low. "It's not."
The rain pounds harder. The sound fills the car, swallowing our words.
He finally pulls off the road into a stretch of woods, killing the lights. The sudden darkness feels unreal , a cocoon of rain, mud, and quiet fear. He rests his hands on the steering wheel, eyes closed, as if grounding himself.
"Alex?"
He exhales, the sound shaky for once. "We've been one step behind from the start. Solano knows every move I make. Every contact, every safe house. He's inside my system."
"But how?" I whisper.
"Because he's using someone who knows me." His voice hardens, bitter. "Someone I trained."
The realization cuts through me. "Ethan?"
He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.
I lean forward. "He helped us"
"He fed us," Alex says flatly, "just enough to lead us to that facility. Solano needed you to remember something. Whatever Project Ophidian is, he wanted it triggered."
The thought makes my blood run cold. "Then why try to kill us?"
He looks at me finally. "Because once he gets what he wants, you're a liability."
The quiet between us hums with fear and anger. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly freezing.
Alex leans back, jaw tight. "We'll regroup at a cabin two hours north. Nobody knows it exists."
I nod, trying to steady my breathing.
He notices. Of course he does.
"Hey," he murmurs, reaching over to brush his thumb against my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Breathe with me."
It's impossible to think when he touches me like that. I focus on the rhythm of his chest, the deep inhale, the slow exhale. Our breaths sync like they always do , chaotic at first, then perfect.
When he lets go, I miss the contact immediately.
"You did good back there," he says. "You didn't freeze. You moved when I told you to."
"I was terrified."
"So was I." The honesty in his voice stuns me. He doesn't look away. "Fear means you still have something to lose."
Something to lose.
Or someone.
I swallow hard. "I don't want to lose you."
He doesn't reply. He just stares for a moment too long before starting the engine again.
By the time we reach the cabin, the rain has softened into mist. The place looks abandoned , small, wooden, half-hidden beneath pines. He checks the perimeter before unlocking the door.
Inside, it's dim and cold. Dust drifts through the air. There's a small fireplace, a sagging couch, a table, and not much else. But compared to running, it feels like peace.
"Sit," he orders gently. "I'll get the generator going."
I sink onto the couch, my body finally realizing how exhausted it is. Every muscle aches. Every nerve feels frayed. When the lights flicker to life, I can finally see him again , soaked, tense, still scanning every corner of the room like he expects an ambush.
"Come here," I say quietly.
He hesitates. Always careful. Always resisting the pull.
"Alex."
He finally steps closer. I take his wrist, pull him toward me until he's kneeling in front of me. His hair is damp, his eyes darker than usual , shadows under green. I reach out, fingertips tracing the scar that runs along his jaw.
"Does anything ever scare you?" I ask.
He huffs a quiet laugh. "You."
My heart stumbles. "Why?"
"Because you make me feel something I can't control."
He leans in, breath warm against my lips. For a second, it feels like the storm outside follows us in , wild, hungry, unstoppable. But then he catches himself, pulls back just enough.
"Camila…" His voice is gravel. "You deserve more than a man who lives like a weapon."
"You're not a weapon," I whisper. "You're the reason I'm still breathing."
The silence after that feels alive. His hand slides to the back of my neck. He hesitates for half a heartbeat , then closes the distance.
The kiss is slow, deliberate, unhurried. Not the desperate crash of adrenaline, but the kind that steals the air from your lungs because it means too much. His hand moves to my waist, anchoring me, grounding me. I forget the world. I forget everything but the warmth of his mouth and the way his heartbeat pounds against mine.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. "We should stop."
"Then stop," I whisper, "and tell me you want to."
He exhales sharply , but he doesn't move away.
He presses one last kiss to my lips, softer this time, full of everything he can't say. Then he stands and walks to the window.
I stay there, trying to catch my breath, staring at the man who has already stolen it.
Outside, lightning flashes through the fog.
For a split second, I see it , a silhouette in the trees. Watching.
"Alex," I breathe.
He's already seen it. His hand moves to his gun.
"Get behind me," he says, voice steel again.
The windowpane shatters.
The storm has found us.
Again.