Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 9

Isla’s POV I shot up in bed so fast the sheets tangled around my legs and yanked me sideways. My hand was already sliding down before my eyes even opened all the way, pressing against the wet spot in my underwear as the memory hit like a freight train. Last night. Silas. Me telling him no. “Shit,” I hissed, yanking my fingers away and swinging my feet to the floor. The clock said 6:47. I had forty minutes to get out the door for the videography gig and I was already this worked up. I grabbed my phone, ignored Ava’s three missed calls, and stumbled into the bathroom. The cold water on my face did nothing. The second I closed my eyes it was right there again. Silas had rolled over last night, voice low and rough. “Isla, come on. You feel that?” He’d taken my hand and pressed it flat against the thick, hard line of him through his boxers. I’d stroked once without thinking and he’d groaned, hips pushing into my palm. “Been thinking about you all damn day.” “I can’t,” I’d whispered,

Isla’s POVI slipped on a puddle and caught myself against the brick wall, rain slamming down so hard it blurred everything into streaks of neon and shadow. My glasses fogged over completely, turning the alley into a smeared mess of reflections. Every step splashed water up my calves, heels wobbling on the uneven ground behind the venue. My chest heaved like I’d run a mile, but it was just the betrayal looping in my head—Silas’s smirk, that cocky wink, his hand sliding up her back, the way their mouths met like no one else existed. The sting burned hotter than the cold rain on my skin.I pushed forward into the narrow alley, ignoring the litter and cigarette butts floating in the puddles. It was too quiet here. Too empty. I just needed to reach the street, get into my car, and disappear before I fell apart completely.“Hey… hey there.” The voice slithered out from behind a catering truck, low and mocking. I froze, breath catching. Two guys stepped out of the darkness, jackets soaked

ZayneI hated rain. Always had. But tonight, as I pulled into Dustfield, I didn’t even notice the slick, wet streets or the faint drizzle settling on the windshield. I parked outside the house, hands tight on the wheel. My chest was a little tighter than usual, and I hated the faint pulse of relief that rushed through me when I saw the warm lights inside. I stepped out of the car, the air cold against my skin. My shoes clicked against the wet concrete as I approached the front door. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fumbled for it just to see Silas’s message:Silas: You left before the pictures. Can’t believe my best man ditched before the main show.I typed back immediately. Me: I hate rain. You already know that.Silas: How the fuck was I supposed to know the forecast would change?Me: Not my problem. Just fix me in there. You’ve got your wife—be happy with that.I shoved the phone back into my pocket, Sienna’s voice drifted from inside before I even rang the bell.“Zayne! About

Zayne’s POV The push-up count stopped at thirty. I could’ve gone to fifty, maybe sixty, but my mind wasn’t keeping pace with my body. Every time I exhaled, Isla's face flashed. The glasses. The trembling hands. The soaked hair plastered to her cheeks. I dropped to my knees and sat back on my heels, breathing through the memory that wouldn’t stop. I dragged a towel over my face, forcing myself to focus. It didn’t work. I’d told myself I was going downstairs for my charger. Truth? I just wanted to see her again. Just once more, to make sure if the woman I’d pulled out of that alley was really Isla and not a figment of my guilt-soaked imagination. She was more than real. Everything Sienna and Silas had ever said about Isla had been criminally inaccurate. Silas had described her as “sweet but boring,” like she was a side note in his own story. Sienna used to laugh, calling her “my hot nerd bestie” — None of them had mentioned how good looking she really was. The quiet gravity she

Isla’s POVI’ve been lying here for hours, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain hiss against the windowpane like it’s mocking me. Sienna’s laptop hums on the nightstand beside me, screen dimmed but not dark, the email from Ava still open. The folder sits there, bold and unforgiving: “Silas + Isabella – Final Wedding Shots.”My stomach twists every time I read it.His last words echo, replaying over and over until I almost forget to breathe. He wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t stoop that low. He knows what that could do to me if it ever came out. He knows how much I’ve rebuilt, how hard I’ve fought to get to this level of my life.But Silas can be unpredictable, charming one second, cruel the next. And when he feels cornered, he doesn’t lash out with his fists. He uses your history against you.I scroll through my inbox again. Ava’s message blinks at the top:“Here are the remaining shots from the reception! You just need to polish the lighting and crop the background on a few.”R