(Isabella’s POV)
The world was a roaring, hazy vortex of fear. The only solid thing in it was the heavy, cold weight of the gun in my hands. It was an anchor in a sea of chaos, its metallic certainty a stark contrast to the fracturing reality in my mind. He stood across the room, his face a perfect, beautiful lie. It was the face of the man who had held me, who had whispered his love to me, who had promised me a future. But it was also the face of the monster who had just ripped my world apart.
“Isabella,” he said, his voice soft, a velvet caress designed to soothe, to trick. “It’s over. You’re safe now. It’s me.”
His words were poison. My hands trembled, the gun shaking with the force of my terror. My mind was screaming a single, frantic warning: Don’t trust him. It’s a trick. Remember
