Chapter 26

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Chapter 26: A Hole in the Shield

The silence between Isla and Christopher wasn’t quiet—it was heavy.

Every second ticked with words left unsaid. With old wounds. With the knowledge that survival came with a cost no one wanted to name.

They had left Naomi’s house behind, but Isla could still hear the break in her voice. Still picture the woman who used to soothe her scraped knees with lullabies and stories of warrior queens. That same woman now wore betrayal like perfume.

Funny, in a cruel kind of way.

The safehouse—once a haven—felt smaller tonight. Like the walls were listening.

“I think we’re compromised,” Vi said, eyes fixed on the tablet’s glowing screen. “There was movement near the camera grid. Someone looped the feed.”

Isla’s stomach dropped.

Christopher was on his feet immediately, the tension in his body like a loaded spring. “How close?”

“Close enough,” Vi muttered. “They only got four minutes of real-time before the loop kicked in. Which means someone got inside.”

“Great,” he said. “That means they’re watching us. Testing us.”

Vi nodded grimly. “And someone must’ve leaked the location. This place was off-grid. Untraceable. Until now.”

All eyes flicked to her.

Vi raised a brow. “Don’t look at me. But it means someone with access is feeding them information.”

Isla moved toward the monitor. The footage looped on screen—one tall figure, a ghost slipping past the outer fence, almost like they belonged there. No prints. No mistakes. Just shadows.

“Victor’s not sending lackeys,” she said under her breath. “He’s sending the best.”

Christopher didn’t argue. “And they want us scared.”

“They got what they wanted,” Isla said.

But the dread in Christopher’s voice wasn’t anger. It was heavier than that. Like something ancient and bone-deep.

“Are you scared?” she asked, soft.

His eyes met hers. For a second, he didn’t look like the man who’d killed for her. Protected her. For a moment, he looked like someone hanging by a thread.

“Not for me,” he said. “For you.”

---

Later that night, Christopher sat alone, lit only by the dull glow of his phone screen.

The message was short.

They’re coming for her. You can’t protect her forever.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. But something shifted in his jaw—an old habit of restraint.

There were things he hadn’t told her. Things he had buried and prayed would never resurface. But secrets didn’t rot. They fermented.

And now, they were bubbling back up.

Isla padded down the hall barefoot, wearing one of his shirts like it was armor. She didn’t ask what he was doing—just sat beside him, knees tucked to her chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I saw it,” she said.

He didn’t deny it.

“They’re testing us,” he murmured. “Seeing how far they can reach before we fold.”

“I already folded,” she said quietly.

He turned to her. Something in her voice cracked him open.

“You’re not broken, Isla.”

She looked at him like she wanted to believe it.

“You’re becoming.”

She held his gaze. “Then tell me what you’re hiding.”

He didn’t speak.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t protect me with silence. I’m not a kid anymore.”

There was a long pause. And then—

“There’s someone in Victor’s network,” he said. “Someone who reports to me.”

Isla didn’t move.

“Back when I worked for him, I built something of my own. A backdoor. Insurance. I told myself it was a safety net, but I was lying. I was playing both sides.”

Her voice was barely audible. “And now?”

“I don’t know what side I’m even on anymore.”

Everything felt colder. Like the night had crept in through the walls.

“You’re on mine,” she said. “You have to be.”

His eyes locked on hers. Something inside him cracked.

“I want to be. But if it ever changes—if I ever become him—you need to promise me something.”

She waited.

“Run,” he said. “And don’t look back.”

Her hand lifted to his cheek. Gentle. Steady.

“I’m not promising that,” she said. “Because if you fall, I’ll fall with you. I’m not letting him win.”

---

3:37 a.m.

The first sound wasn’t an explosion.

It was the lights going out.

Then a muffled blast.

Then Vi’s scream.

Isla shot up. Christopher was already grabbing her arm, dragging her toward the hidden room in the back where they kept weapons.

“Stay here,” he said.

She yanked free. “I’m not sitting this one out.”

Gunfire shattered the silence.

Vi’s voice came through the comms, urgent. “Two intruders. North window breach. They’re heading east.”

Christopher tossed her a handgun. “Safety off. Aim for the legs.”

They moved fast, side by side.

Isla’s blood thundered—not from panic, but from rage.

They’d taken her past. She wouldn’t let them take her now.

A figure turned the corner—rifle aimed. Isla fired before she could think. He dropped, screaming.

Another rushed behind.

Christopher spun, disarmed him in one swift motion, and slammed him into the wall. The man didn’t move again.

Silence. For now.

---

By dawn, the safehouse looked like a crime scene.

Blood smeared the floors. One attacker dead. The other beaten, tied, and barely conscious.

Vi glared down at him. “He’s not talking. Yet.”

Isla crouched beside him. “Victor sent you?”

He spat at her feet.

She didn’t flinch. She just smiled—a cold, dangerous smile.

Christopher watched her.

Something had shifted. The softness in her eyes was gone. Steel had taken its place.

He wasn’t sure whether to mourn it or respect it.

“Put him in the car,” she said.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

“To the start,” Isla said, standing.

Christopher frowned. “Where?”

She met his eyes, steady and clear.

“My father’s office. It’s time I stop running from ghosts.”