Deep into the night, a frosty breeze howls outside.
Neva lies wide-eyed, staring at the grey ceiling of the dingy but warm room.
Lovesick and restless, she tosses and turns, her mind hazy—haywire.
Sleep evades her.
Every word Ishmael said spins in her head like venomous echoes.
They had talked.
He told her about the island.
Their childhood.
But everything he said was unclear. Disjointed.
To her, he is a madman.
After she calmed down, she realized—if she was to survive until dawn, she had to pull herself together.
So she promised him she wouldn't try to run again.
She said they'd talk more tomorrow. Deeper.
More honestly.
But that's tomorrow.
Thud… Thud…
Her ears perk up. A knock?
She tells herself it's just her imagination.
She closes her eyes, trying to calm herself. Too much has happened.
All she wants is a moment of peace.
A nap.
Knock.
A sharper sound jolts her halfway upright. Her heartbeat quickens.
She scans the room. No, she isn't imagining it.
Knock. Knock.
The sound grows louder.
It isn't the door.
It's coming from the glass barrier that leads to the balcony—
To Ishmael's room.
Neva switches off the white crystal lamp. Unplugs it. Grips its base like a weapon.
Slowly, cautiously, she approaches the curtain, keeping a careful distance from the glass.
She peels the drape just enough to see.
A tall figure looms outside.
She can't see his face.
But he's unlocking the door.
A chill seizes her spine.
Her breath fogs before her lips.
She steadies herself.
Click. The door unlatches.
The figure steps in.
She swings.
But he catches the lamp mid-air.
Her heart drops.
He has the lamp in hand. Her attempt was useless.
"Neva?" the man says.
Her brows knit together. That voice—
Familiar.
Desperate.
"Neva—my God," he breathes, pulling her into a tight embrace.
He kisses her hair, shaking with relief.
And she stands there—frozen, disoriented.
"Rhett?" she whispers.
"Is it really you?"
"I'm here, Angel."
He draws back, cups her cheek, and peppers her face with frantic kisses.
---
Rhett had teamed up with Agent Sky—the genius hacker.
Through surveillance cameras across the city and at the apartment, they tracked the Rolls Royce that Raka had used to force Neva in.
The swallow mountain, closest to Vernella, was where she'd been taken.
Sky jammed the mansion's security. Rewrote the feeds.
And Rhett—
He tore through Raka's guards in cold silence.
His fury was quiet.
Precise.
---
"I'm so sorry," Rhett whispers, his forehead resting against hers.
He's never been this afraid. Not once in his life.
"Are you hurt? Did he touch you?" His voice trembles with rage.
Tears brim in Neva's eyes and trail down her neck.
She shakes her head.
A sob leaves her lips as she throws her arms around him.
He holds her close, gentle fingers stroking her hair.
He presses a kiss to the top of her head.
"We have to go, Angel."
He pulls off his jacket—drenched and freezing—and wraps it around her shoulders.
"You're freezing too," she says softly.
"I'm fine. Let's move."
He grabs her hand and leads her to the balcony.
Below, the forest is blanketed in white.
The wind cuts against their skin like blades.
Neva shivers.
"Climb on my back," he tells her, crouching down.
She obeys, arms circling his neck, legs securing around his waist.
He reaches for a sturdy branch beside the glass railing.
He hoists them both up.
With the grappling hook fastened to the trunk, he begins their descent.
As they glide downward, Neva looks back at the mansion—carved into the mountain like a shrine. She remembers Ishmael's voice: "I built it like you wished."
She shudders and tightens her grip on Rhett.
---
They land safely.
Rhett weaves through the forest's darkened maze, silent as smoke.
Eventually, they reach a paved road.
His Ducati monster is parked at the edge.
He fastens a helmet onto her, then one on himself.
The bike's engine roars, shattering the forest's hush.
Neva climbs on behind him, arms wrapped tight around his torso.
---
Meanwhile, chaos erupts within Ishmael's mansion at the news of Neva's disappearance.
Gunfire rattles through the soundproofed halls like a suppressed storm.
He lowers his pistol with trembling fingers.
His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths.
His eyes—wild, glassy—flicker across the carnage.
Blood spreads across the marble floor, glistening beneath the pale chandeliers.
His guards lie motionless.
Once-wounded. Now gone.
Bullet holes bloom like bleeding blackholes on their foreheads—precise. Merciless.
Then his expression shifts.
Grief tightens his face.
His voice cracks, barely more than a breath:
"You promised… Yet you left anyway."
---
As they speed through the wind, she turns once—just once—toward the hidden mansion behind the trees.
A faint bark pierces the gale, echoing behind them.
Then she lowers her head—and presses her cheek onto Rhett's back, closing her eyes... Sangfroid and tranquil.
Finally home and warm.
The storm thrashes against them.
But inside her—
A warmth blazes alive.
For she is the ember—of a love—a fire that her lover consumed her in.
And together, they burn through the storm.