Pulse |BLOOD OF MY LOVE|

Chapter IX

I LIVE IN THE SHADOWS. FOR ME, THE DARKNESS ANSWERS.

Grayson lay sprawled across his couch, the note clenched in his hand, its urgent message weighing heavy on his mind.

Help me escape.

Just two days ago, Isla had turned him away when he offered his assistance. Now, she was pleading for his help with no explanation. Confusion pulsed through him as he sat up, raking a hand through his tousled hair.

He stared at the note, the words burning into his thoughts. What had changed? Why did she need help now? With a mix of apprehension and determination, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number engraved in his memory.

Three rings later, a voice answered in fluent Italian, "Chiunque sia, se non è importante, faresti meglio a pregare per la tua cazzo di vita."
(Whoever this is, if it's not important, you better pray for your fucking life)

His voice was gruff, sounding like it had just been roused from a nap or interrupted from some inappropriate activities with the opposite sex.

With a soft chuckle, Grayson replied, "Sorry to disturb you, Brother-in-law."

"Grayson?" the man responded after a brief pause, his tone turning serious. "What do you need my help for?"

"A prison break."

✯☾ ........................................................ ☽✯

The clock struck midnight, and the prison settled into a tense silence. Isla sat motionless in her cell, her mind racing with the plan that was about to unfold. She wasn't alone in her scheming; Grayson's men within the prison staff were the unseen gears turning this escape.

As the guards made their rounds, one lingered at Isla's cell, a slight nod the only communication between them. This was the signal. Moments later, a blackout plunged the prison into darkness. It was no accident-the work of an inside man at the electrical panel.

In the cover of shadows, Isla heard the soft click of her cell door unlocking. She stepped out, her senses heightened, her body taut with anticipation. A guard approached in a guard's uniform. "Follow me," he whispered, leading her through a maze of corridors.

They moved swiftly, avoiding the main routes, taking advantage of the chaos sown by the other affiliates. Alarms blared in the distance, a diversion orchestrated to draw attention away from Isla's escape route.

They reached the emergency exit, its doors pried open. "We've disabled the cameras here. Go straight to the basement," the guard instructed, handing her a gun. "There's a car waiting outside the laundry exit. The license plate reads 'DL4 20E9'. Remember it."

She made her way out of the emergency stairwell, where a man with a laundry cart was waiting. "Please, step inside," he instructed, nodding towards the cart.

Without hesitation, she climbed in. As the cart rolled along, she could just make out the laundry room ahead, the exit tantalizingly close. It was a gutsy move, straight out of Grayson's playbook. But it was not Isla's plan.

She kicked the cart over and it fell down. The noise echoed, instantly drawing the guards' attention. The man who had been helping her cursed under his breath and disappeared. Isla's hand found the gun, and with deliberate calm, she took aim. One shot, a guard fell.

Second shot, another.

Third shot, another.

With a triumphant smirk, she fired the remaining bullets into the ceiling. She felt alive, the thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins. She was back in her element, the predator once more on the prowl.