Chapter 105:

Chapter 105:
The golden light of the morning felt like a trick. As Isla ate the lavish breakfast under Lorenzo’s watchful gaze, she felt the weight of her promise from the night before—a tether far stronger than any iron chain. But the moment Lorenzo stepped out onto the wide, marble balcony to take a call, the air in the room seemed to thin, returning to the cold oxygen of a prison.

Lorenzo stood with his back to her, one hand braced against the railing, the other holding his phone to his ear. He spoke in a low, clipped tone, the kind he used when he was discussing business that involved blood and shadows.

Isla froze, a piece of fruit halfway to her mouth, as the wind carried his voice back into the room.

"...I’ll be off the island by midnight," Lorenzo muttered. "No, I’m leaving the secondary team behind. I don't care about the risk on the mainland; the island needs to stay a fortress. I’ll be gone for three days, maybe four. Not a word to her. She thinks I’m staying in the hub."

There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke.

"Because if she knows I’m gone, she’ll start looking for the edges of the cage again," Lorenzo snapped, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "And I won’t have her heart rate spike while I’m not there to settle it. Just have the transport ready at the north cove."

He ended the call and stood still for a long moment, looking out at the sea.

Isla quickly lowered her hand, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He's leaving. For the first time since she had been brought to this island, the god of the mountain was descending. Without Lorenzo’s physical presence, the "biometric signatures" and "automated sensors" felt like hurdles she could actually jump.

This was it. Her promise from last night—the I'm staying she had sobbed into his skin—felt like a fever dream now. In the harsh light of day, she realized that a life with Lorenzo wasn't a life; it was an exquisite slow-motion drowning.

Lorenzo stepped back into the room, his expression a mask of cool indifference. He looked at her plate.

"You've barely eaten," he noted, walking toward her.

"I'm just... full," Isla lied, her voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "You're going to be in the security hub all day?"

Lorenzo paused, his eyes searching hers for a flicker of the truth she had just overheard. After a heartbeat, he nodded. "Yes. There are things that need my attention. You will stay here. The terrace is yours, but do not go down to the gardens. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Isla whispered. She reached out and touched his hand, a calculated move to sell the lie. "Will you be back for dinner?"

Lorenzo’s gaze softened just a fraction. He leaned down and kissed her forehead—a gesture that felt like a brand. "I'll try. Rest, Isla. You look like you need it."

He turned and walked out, the heavy double doors clicking shut behind him. Isla heard the distinct thrum of the electronic lock engaging.

She didn't move for ten minutes. She waited until she heard the distant sound of his SUV pulling away toward the other side of the estate.

She stood up, the silk robe pooling around her ankles. She didn't have her blue dress anymore, and she couldn't run in a robe. She moved to Lorenzo’s massive walk-in closet. It was a cathedral of black suits and crisp white shirts, smelling of him so strongly it made her dizzy.

She grabbed a pair of his black tactical trousers, cinching the belt as tight as it would go, and a dark linen shirt that drowned her small frame. She found a pair of sturdy boots in the back—backups for the staff, perhaps—that were too large but would have to do.

She went to the balcony. The drop was impossible, but she wasn't looking to jump. She was looking for the one thing Lorenzo had mentioned on the phone.

The north cove.

If he was leaving from there, it meant the security on that side of the island would be momentarily lowered to allow his transport in. It was the only hole in the fortress.

She looked at the diamond tracker still nestled against her throat. If she left the room, the alarm would go off. Unless...

Isla walked back to the breakfast tray. She picked up the heavy, silver butter knife. Her hands shook, but her mind was clear. She went to the vanity mirror and looked at the shimmering stone.

"You're too smart, Lorenzo," she whispered to her reflection. "But you forgot that I'm a nurse. I know exactly how to cut without feeling the pain."