In love with an Assassin

Smoke in the Shadows

Chapter 5: Smoke in the Shadows

(Kevin’s POV)

The attack at the gala kept replaying in my mind long after the guests had left and the news coverage had died down. One moment I was grinning for the cameras, and the next I was staring down the barrel of a gun. If Isabella hadn’t acted the way she did, I wouldn’t be standing here today.

I tried to shove the memory aside with meetings and numbers, but it lingered. Death had brushed past me so closely it was almost tangible. And the woman protecting me was way more dangerous than she let on.

During my drive to the office the next morning, I noticed it again—a black car in my rearview mirror, three car lengths back, maintaining its distance no matter how the driver twisted the wheel. I told myself it was nothing, but still, my heart raced.

By the time we pulled up to the White Label building, the car had vanished. Isabella picked up on my silence but didn’t pry. She never did.

Once inside, I dialed my head of security, Lewis. He was this tall guy with a calm demeanor, the kind of person I’d put my trust in for years.

“There’s a car following us,” I told him. “Can you check it out?”

He nodded, “I’ll take care of it. But for now, you’re safe. With Isabella around, you have nothing to worry about.”

Something about his tone unsettled me. It felt too quick, too assured. For the first time, I started to question whether my trust in him had been misplaced.

That night, as we left the office, shadows clung to the street corners. I tried to shake off the unease, but the hairs on my neck stood on end. Isabella walked a half-step ahead, scanning her surroundings, always vigilant.

Then it happened. Two men burst out from an alley, knives glinting. I froze. Isabella didn’t.

She moved faster than I could follow. One man lunged at her; she caught his wrist, twisting it until the knife fell. With brutal accuracy, she struck his throat, sending him to his knees. The second guy charged, but she spun around, kicked, and he crashed into a wall.

The entire confrontation was over in seconds. She stood above them, breathing evenly, eyes steely. They groaned on the pavement, battered but alive.

I stared, my heart racing. She hadn’t just defended me—she had taken them apart as if she’d practiced those moves countless times.

When she turned to me, her expression remained unchanged. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I stammered, my voice ragged. “But I have questions.”

She stepped closer, just close enough for me to spot the faint scar on her jaw under the streetlight. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. The way she fought wasn’t mere security training; it had an air of something darker.

“Who are you really, Isabella?” I asked.

Her eyes locked onto mine, a stormy gray, unreadable. For just a moment, there was a flicker of something human in them. Then it vanished, replaced by steel.

“I’m the one keeping you alive,” she replied, her voice steady, cold, and final.

But the distance between us said otherwise—she was either lying or hiding something. And the tightening in my chest made it clear I cared more than I probably should.

I watched her stride back to the car, her posture rigid, her shadow stretching across the pavement. She had saved me once more, yet the more she revealed, the less I grasped.

And the more I wanted to know.