12: Darkest Hour

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The sound of the gunshot echoes in my ears, and I'm frozen in place, unable to comprehend what I've just seen. Declan's lifeless body lies at Lupé's feet, blood pooling beneath him, his cruel smile forever etched into his face. But it's not the sight of his corpse that leaves me paralyzed—it's the person standing behind him, the one who pulled the trigger.

"Isabelle?" The name slips from my lips before I can stop it. My sister. The person who was supposed to be safe, far away from all of this, is standing before me, a gun in her hand, her expression as cold as ice.

She lowers the weapon, her eyes locking onto mine. "Alora," she says softly, but there's no warmth in her voice, no hint of the sisterly affection I once knew.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" My voice shakes, a mixture of anger and confusion clawing at my throat.

Isabelle glances at Lupé, who's still standing over Declan's body, his expression unreadable. "I came to help you," she says simply, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

"Help me?" I repeat, incredulous. "By killing him?" I point to Declan, my mind struggling to keep up with the rapid turn of events.

She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "Declan was going to kill you, Alora. He was going to kill both of you. I did what I had to do."

Lupé's silence is unnerving. He hasn't moved since Isabelle appeared, and the tension between the three of us is suffocating. I turn to him, searching his face for some sign of what he's thinking, but it's like trying to read a stone.

"This doesn't make sense," I mutter, shaking my head as I try to piece it all together. "Why are you here, Isabelle? How did you even know—?"

"She's been with me, Alora," Lupé cuts in, his voice low and controlled. "For a while now."

My blood runs cold at his words. "What?"

Isabelle steps forward, standing beside Lupé. "It's true. I've been working with him, Alora. To protect you."

"To protect me?" My voice rises in disbelief. "You've been working with a fucking criminal, Isabelle! You—"

"Enough!" Lupé's voice slices through the night, silencing my outburst. His gaze is hard, unyielding. "There's no time for this. We need to move. Now."

But I can't move. My legs refuse to cooperate as the reality of what's happening crashes down on me. My sister—my own flesh and blood—has been in league with the man I've been hunting. The man I've...

I can't finish the thought. I can't even begin to process what this means.

"Alora." Isabelle's voice is softer now, pleading. "You have to trust me. I'm on your side."

"Trust you?" I echo, feeling like I'm spiraling out of control. "How the hell am I supposed to trust you after this?"

Lupé takes a step toward me, his presence as imposing as ever. "You don't have a choice," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If we stay here, we're all dead. We need to go. Now."

I want to argue, to scream at him, at both of them, but there's a small, terrified voice in the back of my mind that knows he's right. This isn't the time for questions or accusations. This is the time to survive.

"Fine," I manage to choke out. "But this isn't over."

Lupé nods once, curtly, and turns to lead the way back through the trees. Isabelle hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine, but I can't meet her gaze. Not now. Not after everything.

We move quickly through the darkness, the sounds of the battle fading behind us as we put distance between ourselves and the estate. My mind races, trying to make sense of everything, but it's like trying to grasp at smoke. Nothing is clear anymore. The only thing I know for sure is that everything has changed.

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