Page 5 of Isaia

“Luna, you’re killing me!” she scolds, bending down to untangle the leash. “I swear, she’s usually not this dramatic.”

“It’s fine,” I say, clipped, trying to step out of the mess. But the more I move and the more she tries to help, the worse it gets. Every step I take tightens the leash around my legs, and her efforts to free me only pull the knots tighter.

I shift my weight, trying to free one foot, but I lose my balance instead.

Before I can catch myself, I stumble forward. In some ridiculous twist of fate, I reach out to steady myself and end up pulling the woman down with me.

We hit the grass with a soft thud, and for a second, I’m staring up at the sky, wondering how the hell I went from an alley soaked in blood to lying in a park, tangled up with a dog leash.

She’s laughing—full-on laughing, her face half-buried in the grass.

“Well, this is not how I thought my day was going to go,” she says, rolling onto her back, leaning her head to the side, looking at me.

And I swear, the world stops.

Two mismatched eyes—one green, one hazel—stare at me, bright and mirthful, a universe in each iris.

For a moment, I freeze, caught off guard. It’s not just the color that gets me; it’s the way they’re looking at me, open and unguarded. She doesn’t seem embarrassed or flustered at all. Instead, she’s smiling like the whole situation is the best part of her day.

And her smile, it’s dangerous—not in the way I’m used to, not the cold, manipulative kind that hides intentions. It’s dangerous because it’s real.

And fuck, I don’t know what to do with that.

I clench my jaw. “Your dog’s a menace.”

She grins at me, not missing a beat. “I know. But she’s so cute, right?”

I snort, shaking my head as I finally manage to sit up. The dog is still wagging her tail, completely satisfied with herself.

“I’m Everly, by the way. And this,” she gestures to the dog while brushing grass off her legs, “is Luna, my partner in crime.”

“Isaia,” I mutter, tugging at the leash still wrapped around my ankle.

She leans in to help untangle it, and when our hands brush for just a second, I feel it—a strange charge in the air, something that makes me pause for a heartbeat.

“Nice to meet you, Isaia.” She stands, reaching a height of no more than five foot five. Maybe shorter. She’s this bright, little thing, but her energy is pulsating. It’s like a tornado in a damn teacup.

“You all right down there?” she teases.

“Yeah,” I say. “Think I survived.”

She laughs again, and there’s something about the way it sounds that makes me want to hear it again.

I watch as she grabs Luna’s leash, grass still stuck in her light brown hair. It’s more a blend of light brown and blonde, soft curls touching her shoulders.

“Again, sorry for, you know, tackling you with my dog.” Her smile’s still there, her features striking, but not in an obvious way. Her face has this gentle balance, with high cheekbones that frame her mismatched eyes.

It’s those eyes that hold my attention, though. Different but perfectly in sync, like they each tell a separate story but are somehow a part of the same whole.

I get up and right my jacket. “I could say get a leash, but your dog seems to think it’s a weapon.”

“We usually reserve that trick for special occasions. Consider yourself lucky.” She shoots me a playful wink.

“You do this often? Knock people over in the park?”

“Only the ones who look like they could use a good takedown,” she fires back with a smirk. “You know, keep things interesting.”

I glance at her, half-tempted to respond, but the words don’t come. I don’t know why, but it’s disarming. And I don’t like it.

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