Chapter 26

Chapter 26: A Hole in the Shield

The silence between Isla and Christopher was not empty—it was full.

Full of unspoken fears. Lingering pain. The weight of survival.

They’d left Naomi’s house a day ago, but Isla could still hear the tremble in her voice. Could still see the betrayal etched in the lines of a woman who had once kissed her scraped knees and told her fairy tales of strong women and brave endings.

The irony was almost poetic.

The safehouse had become a cocoon—worn but steady. Until tonight.

“I think we’re compromised,” Vi said, staring hard at the digital readout on her tablet. “There was a breach in the outer camera grid.”

Isla’s heart dropped.

Christopher rose from his seat like a wolf on alert. “How close?”

Vi didn’t look up. “Someone looped the feed. The motion sensor caught a trace—maybe four minutes of real-time before it glitched.”

“Which means they got in,” Christopher finished.

Isla stood. “I thought this place was untraceable.”

“It was,” Vi said. “Until someone gave them the frequency.”

All eyes landed on her.

Vi raised a brow. “Don’t look at me. But it does mean someone close enough to know about this safehouse is feeding them intel.”

Isla stepped toward the screen. The looping footage revealed shadows—a tall figure moving near the back entrance, leaving no trace. Not even a fingerprint on the fence.

“Victor’s people are professionals,” she murmured. “They want us rattled.”

Christopher nodded. “Well, they succeeded.”

There was a weight in his tone Isla hadn’t heard before—not rage. Dread.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

He looked at her then, and for a moment, she saw something raw beneath the polished surface of the man who never bent. Not until her.

“Not for me,” he said quietly. “For you.”

---

Later That Night

Christopher sat alone in the darkened hallway of the safehouse. The glow from his phone was the only light. On screen, a message blinked from a private number.

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

He closed his eyes.

He had secrets. Ones he had buried so deep he hoped they’d die. But they never did.

And now, they were clawing their way up like rot beneath marble.

Isla stepped into the hallway barefoot, wearing one of his shirts, oversized and rumpled. Her eyes were tired but sharp. She didn’t ask what he was doing.

She just sat beside him, knees drawn to her chest.

“I saw the message,” she said.

He didn’t lie.

“They’re playing with us,” he murmured. “Testing how far they can reach before we break.”

“I’m already broken,” she whispered.

He looked at her, and there was that twist in his chest again—that helpless, maddening ache he only felt when she looked this tired. This worn.

“You’re not broken, Isla. You’re becoming.”

She turned to him, eyes brimming with something she didn’t want to admit. “Then tell me what you’re hiding.”

He stiffened.

“Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t protect me with silence. I’m not a child. Not anymore.”

He exhaled slowly.

“There’s someone in Victor’s chain who answers to me.”

Her lips parted.

He continued. “Back when I worked for him, I was building something of my own—under the radar. I told myself it was a contingency. An escape hatch. But the truth is, I was playing both sides.”

“And now?” she asked.

“Now… I don’t know whose side I’m really on.”

The room felt colder. The shadows darker.

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

His eyes met hers, and something cracked inside him.

“I want to be,” he whispered. “But if you ever doubt me—if the day comes when I become what he is—you have to promise me something.”

She waited.

“Promise you’ll run,” he said. “And don’t look back.”

She reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek.

“I won’t promise that,” she said. “Because I’d burn with you before I let him win.”

---

The Breach

It happened at 3:37 a.m.

A silent blast.

Then the lights died.

Vi's scream pierced the hallway, followed by the sound of glass shattering.

Isla leapt to her feet, heart pounding. Christopher grabbed her wrist, dragging her into the weapons cache in the back room.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"No," she hissed. "I'm done hiding."

Gunshots cracked from the hallway.

Vi's voice came through the comms. “Two masked assailants—breach point north window—moving toward the east corridor.”

Christopher tossed Isla a handgun. “Safety off. Aim low.”

They moved together—like dancers in war.

Isla's heart raced not from fear but fury.

They had taken her father. Her life. Her peace.

They would not take this.

She saw the first man rounding the corner, rifle raised. Isla fired first—his leg gave out with a grunt. He screamed and fell.

Another came from behind.

Christopher disarmed him with a clean twist, then slammed him into the wall. Blood splattered. Silence returned.

For now.

---

Dawn

The safehouse was trashed. Blood on the walls. One intruder unconscious. The other dead.

Vi stood over the wounded one, scowling. “He’s not talking. Yet.”

Isla knelt beside the man. “You work for Victor?”

He spat at her feet.

She smiled coldly. “Wrong answer.”

Christopher watched her.

There was something different in her eyes now—hard steel replacing the soft vulnerability. She was changing. Right in front of him.

He didn’t know whether to grieve it or admire it.

“Put him in the car,” Isla said. “We’re taking him with us.”

Vi blinked. “To where?”

“To the place where all this started,” she said.

Christopher frowned. “What do you mean?”

She met his gaze.

“To the city. To my father’s old office. It’s time I stopped running from ghosts.”

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