Isabella Sinclair’s brow furrowed as her teeth sank into her lower lip, the metallic tang of blood flooding her mouth.
It was a brutal, unrestrained kiss—raw and unyielding.
Despite the blood trickling from his split lip, Alexander Kingsley didn’t retreat. Instead, his grip tightened, his touch roughened, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
Then—thud.
A sharp, sudden impact.
Seizing the moment, Isabella twisted free. She drove her fist hard into his stomach, followed by a swift, precise kick to his knee.
Caught off guard, Alexander staggered, his body buckling as he hit the ground. Blood filled his mouth, the pain searing through him like fire. His vision blurred as he struggled to rise, his limbs heavy, his strength failing.
And then—cold steel pressed against his forehead.
Isabella loomed over him, her gaze sharp as a blade, calculating.
“You’re good,” she muttered, her voice low. “But not good enough.”
Her muscles ached, her body protesting. She wasn’t at her best—but it had been years since anyone had pushed her this far.
With one hand braced against the wall, she reached for the light switch, needing to see his face clearly.
“You chose the wrong woman to mess with—”
But as her fingers brushed the wall, realization struck.
Her skin burned.
A wildfire raged inside her, crawling up from her core, scorching her throat. That kiss—that bloody, violent kiss—hadn’t just been a battle of wills.
Poison.
Isabella gritted her teeth, cursing herself. Years of living quietly had made her careless. How had she missed it?
But the drug was already taking hold. Her thoughts blurred, her body trembling as she fumbled for the switch. Every inch of her burned, her throat parched as if she’d been stranded in a desert for days.
In her haze, she swore vengeance on whoever had created this toxin.
If she ever found them, she’d make them suffer.
Sensing her weakness, Alexander summoned the last of his strength.
In one swift motion, he lunged, his hands closing around her throat as he slammed her back against the table. A dagger flashed in his grip, its cold edge pressing against her ribs—death hovering between them.
Isabella’s gun remained firm against his chest.
Their eyes locked in the darkness, unspoken threats crackling in the air. One wrong move, and it would all be over.
The tension between them was electric, charged with danger—and something darker.
As the drug coursed through her veins, the only sounds were their ragged breaths, the silence thick with unspoken tension.
Isabella’s gaze flickered.
Alexander’s eyes burned with barely restrained fury.
And then—without a word—their lips crashed together again, the kiss fierce, desperate, consuming.
Their breaths tangled in the dark, a storm of fire and poison.
