Isabella didn't scream when they dragged her down the corridor.
She didn't fight.
Not because she couldn't—
But because she was done giving Marcus what he wanted.
Fear.
She walked.
Barefoot on cold concrete.
Head high.
Heart breaking.
But not broken.
Not yet.
Nolan watched her disappear.
His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside.
"No," he whispered. "No… no…"
Marcus crouched in front of him.
"You should thank me," he said calmly. "I've given you clarity."
Nolan lifted his head slowly.
Blood streaked his jaw.
Eyes wild.
"I will kill you," he whispered.
Marcus smiled.
"You'll try."
Isabella was thrown into a new room.
Bigger.
Brighter.
There was a mirror on the wall.
A table.
A chair.
She knew this wasn't a cell.
It was a stage.
Marcus stepped in moments later.
"Sit," he said.
She didn't move.
He raised a brow.
"I said sit."
She walked to the chair and sat.
But she didn't look down.
She didn't look away.
She stared straight at him.
And something in his smile shifted.
Just a fraction.
"You're not supposed to be this calm," Marcus said.
She said nothing.
"You should be crying," he continued. "Begging."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Is that what you want?" she asked.
Marcus's eyes glinted.
"Yes."
She smiled.
Not kind.
Not sweet.
Sharp.
"Then you're going to be disappointed."
Marcus laughed softly. "Brave little thing."
She leaned forward.
"You want to break me," she said. "But you can't."
His smile widened.
"Oh, sweetheart," he replied. "Everyone breaks."
She nodded.
"Yes," she said. "But not for you."
In the shadows above the warehouse, Nathan watched.
He'd been trained for war.
But this—
This was personal.
He tracked Marcus's movement carefully.
Counted men.
Mapped exits.
Calculated risks.
One wrong move—
Nolan dies.
Isabella dies.
So he waited.
Marcus circled Isabella slowly.
"You know what your problem is?" he said.
She didn't respond.
"You still believe in people," he continued. "You think love makes you untouchable."
She met his gaze.
"No," she said. "I know love makes you dangerous."
Marcus paused.
Then laughed.
"Your confidence is adorable."
She didn't blink.
"You hurt people because you're empty," she said. "And you think that makes you powerful."
His smile tightened.
"You're talking too much."
She shrugged.
"You asked."
He leaned in close.
"You think you're special?" he whispered.
She stared at him.
"I think you picked the wrong woman."
Nolan was losing time.
Consciousness came and went.
But one thought burned through him:
She will not survive this if I don't end it.
He pulled against the restraints.
His muscles screamed.
He didn't stop.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Metal groaned.
Marcus's men watched.
Uneasy.
"He's not supposed to still be fighting," one muttered.
Marcus looked over.
His eyes darkened.
Isabella was brought back.
Dragged.
Thrown to the floor in front of Nolan.
He screamed her name.
She crawled toward him.
They reached for each other—
And missed by inches.
Marcus knelt between them.
"This," he said, "is poetry."
Nolan snarled. "You touch her and I will—"
Marcus punched him.
Isabella screamed.
"Stop!" she cried.
Marcus turned to her.
"Do you understand now?" he asked. "You are his weakness."
She slowly got to her knees.
No shaking.
No crying.
Just fire.
"No," she said. "I'm his reason."
Marcus laughed.
Then—
She headbutted him.
Hard.
The sound echoed.
Blood burst from his nose.
Silence.
Every man froze.
Marcus staggered back.
Shock in his eyes.
Isabella didn't stop.
She lunged.
She clawed.
She screamed.
She fought like an animal.
Men rushed forward.
She bit.
Scratched.
Kicked.
They dragged her off.
But it was too late.
Marcus was bleeding.
And for the first time—
Not smiling.
Nolan roared.
"That's my wife!" he screamed.
The words shocked the room.
Isabella froze.
So did Marcus.
"Your… what?" Marcus whispered.
Nolan spat blood.
"My wife," he repeated.
Isabella's chest slammed.
He looked at her.
Eyes burning.
"I never stopped being yours," he said.
Tears exploded from her.
"Idiot," she sobbed.
Marcus laughed.
"Oh, this is better than I imagined."
They separated them again.
This time, roughly.
Isabella screamed his name until her throat burned.
Nolan screamed hers until his voice broke.
Marcus wiped the blood from his face.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His smile was gone.
"You embarrassed me," he said to Isabella.
She glared.
"Good."
He nodded.
"Then you die last."
Her heart skipped.
Nolan lost his mind.
"No!"
Marcus turned.
"And you," he said, "will watch."
Nathan moved.
Now.
He didn't wait anymore.
He dropped from the rafters.
Silent.
Deadly.
The first guard never saw him.
The second barely had time to turn.
The third fired—
Nathan shot him.
Chaos erupted.
Shouts.
Gunfire.
Marcus spun.
"What the—"
Nathan appeared behind him.
Gun raised.
"Drop it," Nathan said.
Marcus froze.
Slowly raised his hands.
Isabella's eyes widened.
Nathan.
Her heart leapt.
Nolan's breath hitched.
"Nathan," he whispered.
Marcus smiled faintly.
"Oh," he said. "So the ghost comes to play."
Nathan's eyes were ice.
"Let them go."
Marcus laughed.
"You think this ends with you?"
Nathan fired.
Not at Marcus.
At the chain holding Nolan.
It snapped.
Nolan fell.
Rolled.
Pulled Isabella toward him.
Marcus roared.
Shots fired.
People screamed.
Smoke filled the room.
Isabella clung to Nolan.
Nathan dragged them toward the exit.
"MOVE!"
They ran.
Bullets ricocheted.
Glass shattered.
They burst through a side door—
Into the night.
They didn't stop running.
Not until they collapsed behind a row of abandoned containers.
Isabella was shaking violently.
Nolan pulled her into his chest.
"You're okay," he whispered. "You're okay."
She sobbed into him.
"You said wife," she cried.
He pressed his forehead to hers.
"I meant it," he whispered.
Nathan scanned the area.
"They'll follow," he said.
Nolan nodded.
Isabella looked up.
"Marcus said I die last," she whispered.
Nathan's eyes darkened.
"Then he dies first."
They escaped.
Barely.
Three blocks.
Two cars.
No lights.
No names.
They disappeared.
At dawn, Isabella sat on the edge of a motel bed.
Wrapped in Nolan's arms.
Still shaking.
Still alive.
She looked up at him.
"You came back," she whispered.
He kissed her forehead.
"I always will."
She swallowed.
"They're not done."
"No," he said.
She leaned into him.
"Then neither are we."
Miles away, Marcus stood in a dim room.
Bleeding.
Smiling.
One of his men approached.
"They escaped."
Marcus wiped his blood slowly.
"Yes," he said.
The man hesitated.
"You're not angry?"
Marcus laughed.
"No," he said. "Now it's personal."
He picked up his phone.
Typed.
Sent.
Isabella's phone buzzed.
She froze.
Nolan stiffened.
She slowly opened the message.
A photo.
Juan.
Sleeping.
Safe.
Alive.
Then a second message:
Now that you've run…
we'll see how fast you can chase.