Long, silent hours ticked by in the safehouse. It was a thin sound of Leon's breathing and an old clock on the wall, while Isabella sat vigil beside him, refusing to leave his side. One lamp on, long shadows stretch into the room, but the darkness looming isn't only physical-it's emotional, suffocating.
Leon had lost so much blood, but Derek had managed to stabilize him, at least for the time being. Still, that unsure feeling tugged at Isabella. With each falter of Leon's breathing, she skipped a beat in her heart as fear-tight as a vice-clenched around her chest, threatening to take what might be taken away from her forever.
Derek stepped to the window and peered through the blinds to make sure they had not been followed. His face was etched with tension. "We need to move soon," he whispered, not looking at her. "This place isn't safe for long. Weber's men are going to come looking.
