We don’t go back inside. I keep her close, lead her through the side gate, my phone already in hand. One call. That’s all it’ll take.
I tap the contact. He picks up on the second ring.
“Lieutenant Mercer.”
“Hey, it’s Weister. I need a favor.”
A pause. “What kind?”
“The kind that requires a bird and no questions asked.”
Another pause. Then a low chuckle. “You always were a dramatic bastard. Where to?”
“Inverness.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. I’ll owe you.”
“You already do.” But he’s already moving. “I can have a Black Hawk prepped within thirty.”
“I’ll send you my location and thank you.”
I hang up and tuck the phone away, turning back to Isabel. She’s silent beside me, eyes rimmed red, cheeks pale. She’s trying to stay strong, but I can see the weight crushing her. It’s familiar—I’ve seen soldiers carry less and still fall apart.
I don’t touch her. Not yet. She needs space, not more hands on her. But I keep myself close enough that if she sways, I’ll catch her. If she falls, I’ll carry her.
The cold air bites at my skin, but I welcome it. Keeps me grounded. Keeps me from storming back in there and decking her father in front of everyone.
I turn to Isabel, who’s hugging herself like she’s trying to hold all the broken pieces in place. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, and she’s pale in that way that tells me her adrenaline’s crashing.
I drape my jacket over her shoulders when I notice her shivering.
She glances up at me, startled. “You always do this.”
“What?”
“Step in. Fix things. Even when I haven’t said them out loud.”
“Izzy.” My voice is low, steady. “We’ve got a ride coming. You trust me?”
Her chin quivers as she nods while I grab her hand and walk her away. “Where are we going?”
“Inverness. My family’s old chalet. Remote. Quiet. No one will find us there.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “And how exactly are we getting to Inverness? It’d be a hell of a ride.”
I give her a faint, almost crooked smile. “Black Hawk.”
She looks lost while we’re tucked behind the stables, waiting. It’s the only part of the estate that’s far enough from the main manor and away from curious eyes.
Ten minutes later, we hear the familiar sound of rotors cutting through the sky.
She stiffens beside me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, my arm wrapping around her shoulder now. “It’s ours.”
The Black Hawk touches down in the field behind the stables. Mercer jumps out, nodding to me with that smug grin I’ve hated since boot camp.
