Page 47 of Forbidden Access

"No, no lo he visto." Isabella’s voice trembled, but she lied with conviction.

Damn it.

This was bad—worse than she’d anticipated.

Who the hell had tracked them down?

Alek Markov?

Her mind raced through the possibilities as she leaned over the railing to get a better look. In the dim light of the foyer, she spotted them. Two men—big, dangerous, and armed.

The first one had a knife to Isabella’s throat, his grip on the blade confident and too smooth. His build was massive, over six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds, with the kind of bulk that suggested military training—maybe a mercenary. The way he moved told her he was experienced, deadly.

The second man, shorter but still built like a tank, was holding up a photo—likely of Damian.

Threat level: lethal.

They were professionals, hired muscle with no qualms about getting their hands dirty. Thorn’s pulse quickened as she assessed the situation. One shot in the chamber. Even with her skill, it wasn’t enough to take them both out before one of them hurt Isabella. She needed another plan.

She backed away from the railing and returned to the bedroom, her mind already calculating their next move. She locked the door behind her and shook Damian awake, her voice low but urgent. “Damian, get up. We’ve got to move.”

“What?” he mumbled, groggy and disoriented. “Why?”

“They’re here. They found us.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Damian bolted upright, the gravity of the situation sinking in as his eyes snapped open. “Shit. How?”

“No time for questions. Get dressed and make it fast.” Thorn was already stripping the bed, shoving the sheets into the closet to make it look like they hadn’t slept there. The less evidence, the better. Isabella was risking her life to protect them, and Thorn wasn’t about to let that be in vain.

Damian scrambled to pull on his clothes, his hands a little unsteady as he grabbed his wallet from the bedside table. Thorn didn’t stop moving, her mind going through the escape plan in her head. She strapped her knife to her ankle and retrieved a short piece of electrical wire from her backpack, stuffing it down her leggings along with the map.

Damian raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask, sensing the urgency in her movements. Now was not the time for explanations.

She tossed her pack into the closet, grabbed the burner phone, then yanked on her running shoes. She couldn’t run with a heavy pack, not where they were going. It would slow them down.

Damian, still adjusting to the shock, reached for his backpack, instinctively gathering up items to stash inside it.

Thorn caught his arm. “Leave it. We’re out of time.”

His eyes widened, but he nodded, hurling the pack in beside hers, then closing the closet door.

Thorn pushed open the window, assessing the drop. It wasn’t ideal, but it was doable. “You first.”

To his credit, Damian didn’t argue. He hurried back to the window, swinging his leg over the balcony railing with more agility than she expected, and dropped softly to the ground.

Thorn followed, pausing only to make sure the window was shut behind them. The shutters were a problem—left open, they might raise suspicion, but there was no time to fix that now. Hopefully, the thugs wouldn’t notice.

The drop was significant, but Thorn landed with practiced ease. She crouched as she hit the ground, absorbing the impact and quickly scanning the area. The plaza was empty—no lookout posted. A rookie mistake, but one she’d take full advantage of.

“Follow me,” she whispered, moving swiftly across the square toward the dark alleyway, Damian right behind her.

“Where are we going?” he whispered, his voice tight.

Thorn didn’t answer immediately, her mind focused on their escape. The night clung to them like a shroud as they darted through the narrow, labyrinthine alleyways. The air was warm and dry, mingled with the faint stench of decay from overflowing dumpsters. Every step they took echoed eerily in the silence, the only sound in a town that was fast asleep.

“Out of town,” she finally muttered, her voice low and resolute.

Damian kept pace beside her, his breathing steady, his footsteps heavier but as sure as hers. Not surprising given his athleticism. It would come in handy now.

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