Chapter 15: The Moment That Took Him Away
Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
The road unwound before them in long silver lines, mist still clinging to the fields, the sky barely awake. Isla watched the world pass through the half-open window, her head resting against the seat, her fingers loosely entwined with Rafe's.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
Everything important had already been said in the small cabin, in the way he had held her like she was something he could lose, in the way she had finally stopped feeling like she was running.
Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other linked with hers. Every so often, his thumb brushed across her knuckles—grounding. Unconscious. Intimate.
She closed her eyes.
For the first time since this nightmare began, she felt almost… safe.
And that was when he stiffened.
The change was subtle.
But she felt it.
His fingers tightened around hers. His posture shifted. His eyes sharpened on the road.
"Isla," he said quietly.
Something in his voice pulled her fully awake.
"Yes?"
"Unbuckle your seatbelt."
Her heart jumped. "Why?"
"Just do it."
The mist ahead looked the same.
The road was empty.
Too empty.
"Rafe—"
"Now."
She unclicked the belt.
At the same second, the air seemed to tear.
A dark shape burst from the side road.
Impact exploded.
Metal screamed.
The world became noise and violence and spinning light.
The car was lifted.
Twisted.
Thrown.
Isla's scream was ripped from her before she even felt it.
Then—
Silence.
A ringing, hollow silence.
Smoke curled through the air.
Her vision blurred.
"Rafe…?" she whispered.
Her body ached. Her head throbbed. Glass glittered across her lap like ice.
She turned.
The driver's seat was empty.
The door yawned open.
Panic detonated in her chest.
"Rafe!"
She fumbled with the door, nearly falling as she stumbled out.
The cold hit her.
So did the sight.
Black vehicles blocked the road.
Men stood in a loose circle around the wreck.
Too calm.
Too prepared.
Not an accident.
Not random.
A trap.
"Rafe!" she cried again.
A hand closed around her arm.
She spun—
But it wasn't him.
The man who held her was tall, dressed in dark gray, his expression almost kind.
"Easy," he said. "You're alive. That matters."
She jerked away. "Where is he?!"
The man studied her, then gestured.
Two others dragged someone from behind one of the vehicles.
Rafe.
His hands were bound behind him.
Blood ran from his temple.
But he was standing.
And he was looking only at her.
Something in his face broke her.
"Rafe—" She tried to reach him.
He surged forward.
They forced him back.
"Isla!" he shouted. "Listen to me. Whatever happens, you don't—"
A blow cut his words short.
She screamed his name.
The man in gray stepped between them.
"You really believed he would escape what he is?" he asked gently.
Her breath came in broken pieces. "Let him go."
He looked at her with something like pity.
"He was always meant to lead us to you."
She shook her head. "No. He chose me."
"Yes," the man agreed. "That was his mistake."
Her chest burned. "You used him."
"No," he said. "We made him. You changed him. There is a difference."
Rafe lifted his head, blood at his mouth.
"Isla," he said hoarsely. "Don't let them—"
They struck him again.
Something inside her snapped.
Not fear.
Not helplessness.
Something deeper.
Hotter.
The pull she had felt before surged through her veins.
Pressure bloomed behind her ribs.
The air around her seemed to tighten.
The man in gray felt it.
His eyes sharpened.
"There it is," he murmured. "Do you feel it? The way the world leans when you breathe?"
She trembled.
"What are you doing to me?"
"Nothing," he said. "You're doing it to yourself."
She looked at Rafe.
Bruised.
Bound.
Still trying to stand.
Still trying to protect her.
"I won't go with you," she said.
"You already are," the man replied. "The only question is whether he lives long enough to watch."
Her blood roared.
The ground beneath her feet felt… close. Responsive. Aware.
"Don't," Rafe said, his voice breaking. "Isla, don't let them turn you into this."
Tears burned her eyes.
"I won't let them take you."
The man tilted his head. "You can't stop this."
Her voice shook.
"Then I'll make you afraid of it."
Something answered her.
The wind surged.
Dust lifted.
Men stumbled.
The air vibrated.
The man's smile finally faded.
Interest turned into something closer to awe.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
They moved fast then.
Too fast.
A needle.
A sting.
Cold.
The world tilted.
Rafe shouted her name as they pulled her away.
She fought.
Reaching.
Straining.
"S—stay," she begged.
His voice cut through the chaos.
"I'm not leaving you," he swore. "Do you hear me? This is not the end of us."
Her vision blurred.
The last thing she saw was him fighting against their hands.
The last thing she felt was the pull inside her, screaming awake.
And then—
Darkness.