Isabella stared at the message glowing on her screen.
*"Are you safe?"*
Three words. Simple, soft—yet they shook her to her core.
She hadn't expected to hear from Fernando so soon. After that tension-filled ride from the library, after the fire in his eyes and the storm behind his silence, she thought he would pull away again. Vanish into the shadows he wore like a second skin. She has never felt this way
She typed back.
*"I'm safe. Are you?"*
A pause. Then…
*"Not when I can't see you."*
She sucked in a breath. Her fingers trembled slightly, heat blooming across her cheeks.
Fernando, the man with hands scarred by violence and eyes that spoke of war, had just admitted something terrifyingly intimate.
It wasn't the words. It was what he didn't say.
He wasn't used to softness. But for her, he was trying.
Meanwhile, across the city, Fernando sat in his high-rise apartment, suit jacket flung carelessly across the armrest, shirt sleeves rolled up, a glass of scotch untouched beside him.
His phone buzzed.
*Isabella: "I miss your silence."*
He smirked. That girl had a dangerous way with words.
He thought of her in the library, that fiery glint in her eyes, the way her voice challenged him—made him feel something human again. And then he remembered the man watching them.
Someone had eyes on her.
And that meant she was no longer just part of his fascination.
She was a target.
He leaned back, muscles tense, mind calculating.
Tomorrow, he'd send someone to follow her. Not to spy—just to protect.
He'd keep his distance if that's what she wanted. But he'd burn the world if it dared to touch her.
The night had a weight to it—thick, suffocating, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Isabella sat by her bedroom window, the faint hum of traffic below doing little to soothe the storm inside her mind. Her phone vibrated again. It was Fernando.
*"I sent someone. Someone you can trust."*
Her heart raced. The thought of a stranger watching over her was both comforting and terrifying.
She typed slowly, hesitating before hitting send.
*"Why do I feel like I'm walking into a trap?"*
Minutes passed, each second stretching endlessly before his reply came.
*"Because love isn't safe. Not for people like us."*
Isabella's breath caught. People like them. Dangerous, broken, tangled in shadows they couldn't escape.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed downstairs. Her pulse quickened. Was it just the wind? Or had the darkness found her?
She grabbed her phone and the small knife she kept hidden beneath her pillow. Each step she took toward the door was heavy, heart pounding like a drum.
Fernando's message lit up her screen again.
*"Call me."*
With trembling hands, she pressed the call button.
"Isabella," his voice was low, rough with concern. "Don't move. I'm coming."
Within minutes, she heard the roar of a motorcycle outside. The door crashed open, and there he was—Fernando, larger than life, his gaze fierce, every inch the protector she never knew she needed.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," he growled, pulling her close. The fire in his eyes was the only promise she needed.
But as he held her, a shadow stirred in the distance—someone watching, waiting. And the real danger was only just beginning.
Tonight, everything was about to change. Shadows moved closer, secrets threatened to unravel, and the queen of his crime would face a choice that could bind their fates forever—or shatter them both.