Chapter 8: Trust in the Shadows
The street was slick with rain, every puddle reflecting the orange glow of the streetlights. Isla's legs shook, not from cold—but from the storm inside her chest.
Rafe held her hand tighter as they ducked into an alley. "We can't stay here," he said. "They'll know where we are if we linger."
"I… I don't want to go," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
He stopped and looked at her. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, but his eyes were calm—focused, steady. "You don't have to," he said softly. "Not if you trust me."
She swallowed, feeling her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She didn't want to trust him. She had to. Because the alternative was fear, alone, and running in circles while the hunters closed in.
"I trust you," she whispered.
For a moment, the storm outside faded. He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek with one hand, thumb brushing lightly against her damp skin. "Good," he said. "Because you're not doing this alone. Not ever."
Her breath hitched. His closeness was dangerous, thrilling, impossible—but she leaned in, just slightly, drawn to the warmth of him.
Then a sudden noise—a metallic scrape—made her jump.
Rafe's hands were instantly on her shoulders, steadying her. "Not here," he murmured. "Eyes forward. We move."
She nodded, heart still racing. But for the first time since that first night, she didn't feel like a victim. She felt… partnered. Protected. Seen.
They moved through the alley, bodies brushing sometimes, each accidental touch leaving sparks neither of them admitted aloud. When they reached a narrow side street, Rafe glanced at her. "You're holding up better than I expected."
Isla tried to sound confident. "I have good motivation."
He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something deeper there—care, concern, and maybe… more.
When a shadow flickered ahead, Isla froze.
"Stay behind me," Rafe ordered—but this time, she didn't feel the old panic. She stayed close, yes—but she stayed with him, not just following blindly.
He glanced at her, almost approvingly. "Better. Keep that focus. We'll get through this—together."
Her chest warmed. Together. The word was foreign, daring, and entirely… thrilling.
And for the first time, Isla let herself believe: maybe the fire she feared wasn't just danger. Maybe it was also him.