Page 178 of The Devil's Thorn
He didn’t answer that. Doesn’t need to. He knows the rhythm. The same one carved into both of us.
My eyes drifted closed again for a moment, the weight of the day finally pressing too hard to fight. Everything felt softer now. Quieter. Even him.
I felt his eyes still on me as my breathing slowed, as the haze of sleep started to pull me under. But I didn’t feel afraid. I didn’t feel watched like prey. Just… watched. Like something being memorized.
The darkness was warm. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel like drowning.
And as sleep took me, my last thought was simple.
If he’s the devil… then maybe hell isn’t cold after all.
CHAPTER 14
ISABELLA
Thewind was warm as it rolled off the Caribbean, brushing softly over my bare shoulders, and pulling at the hem of my sundress. I wandered further along the beach than I normally did, needing the distance. The resort lights were long behind me now, replaced by shadows and the low hum of the ocean as the sky faded into streaks of burnt orange and purple.
It was our last day in Cartagena. Tomorrow, we’d return to the world that waited for us—a world filled with blood and shadows and secrets I still didn’t fully understand.
I needed the space to breathe.
My sandals dangled from my fingertips, the sand still warm beneath my feet, soft and giving. The sea breeze tasted like salt and dusk. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. Not Kellan. Not Ash. Not Rafael. Especially not Rafael.
I wasn’t ready to face him again. Not yet. Not after that night—not after stitching his wound and sitting beside him until Idrifted off to sleep with the weight of his presence pressing on every nerve. Not after hearing the way he spoke to me, like he could see parts of me I didn’t want anyone to find.
I exhaled and kept walking.
Just as I stepped past a thicket of sea-grape trees and palms, I paused. There was a sound, low and hurried—not waves, not birds. Voices. Male. Close.
I ducked behind a tangle of wide green leaves, heart hammering.
“He shouldn’t have gotten away,” one of them said. The voice was high-strung, filled with nerves.
“Shut the fuck up,” the second one snapped, deeper and calmer. “It wasn’t our fault. The distraction worked. We did our job.
“Barely. You saw what he did to Marco. We shouldn’t be messing with a man like that.”
“Demyan gave the orders. You want to go back to him and say you chickened out?”
Demyan.
I sucked in a breath and held it, leaning closer without making a sound.
“What if she finds out?” the first one whispered, almost too low to hear. “The girl. The one with him.”
My jaw clenched.
“Then she dies too,” the calm one said simply.
The nervous one cursed under his breath. “I’m telling you, this is going to get out of hand.”
“Then we finish the job clean. Tonight. 11PM. The cliffs behind the old chapel. That’s where Demyan wants the meeting.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Now let’s go.”
Their voices trailed off, footsteps crunching faintly against the sand and dried leaves. I stayed frozen behind the brush, barely daring to breathe. Cliffs. Chapel. Demyan.
