The world was tilting. Spinning. Burning.
The SUV flipped once, twice—glass shattering, metal crunching—before finally slamming onto its side.
Isla's breath was knocked from her lungs, her body thrown violently against the door.
For a moment, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears.
Then—gunfire.
Loud. Ruthless. Too close.
Someone was coming for them.
Lucas’s voice cut through the chaos. "Isla!"
She blinked, forcing her vision to clear as she turned her head toward him.
He was alive, but blood was dripping from a cut above his eyebrow, his body tense as he fought against his seatbelt.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his green eyes scanning her frantically.
She shook her head, her chest heaving. "No. Just—" She winced, her ribs aching. "Bruised."
Vincent groaned from the bac
