All For You

Twenty-three

August

Two weeks earlier

"You're what?" Warner asks, incredulous, staring at Isla and her admittedly insane idea board like she's lost her head. I'm starting to see what he sees—the crazy woman with crazy ideas that only she seems to understand.

She's so different now. When Isla was younger, before she was taken, she was a cardboard cut-out of a simple, predictable girl. It was so easy to tease her, so easy to annoy her, because you could see right through her. Read her mind just through her expressions and mannerisms. But now everything she says is shocking. Every time she opens her mouth, we're all on edge, trying with all our manpower to predict what she's going to say next. And we're never right.

But whoever she's become, and whether the rest of us like it or not, she's still Isla. Still the cute little selfless girl who's literally putting her life at risk to take down an organisation that thrives on ruining lives-with a little sprinkle of the revenge she so deserves in between. Still the girl I love, and I'm not sure when that became so easy to admit. If only it was as easy to say it aloud-if only telling it straight to her face wouldn't get me killed, either by her or her brothers. If only she loved me back, but I never expected much. She wasn't even sure I was still around before the gang war-she'd forgotten I even existed-so who am I kidding? I'm happy just being by her side. Just living in the same house as her and making her a cup of perfected coffee most mornings. I'm happy teasing her again and getting to see her beautiful scowl whenever I do. I'm happy as long as she's safe, as long as she's home and to stay, because I never realized how much I actually needed her back until she'd woken from her coma and given me a hug I never expected, but one I needed so damn badly.

It was like magic-one hug from Isla and something snapped. She was all I ever needed, and I can't believe it took me that long to realize it.

Not that I hadn't taken a guess, but it never really hit me until we got her back.

"August, you'll act as my bodyguard. We'll use cover names and alter our appearances a little, too. They'll recognize us pretty quickly either way, but fake identities will give us a bit more time," Isla explains, ignoring Warner, because I'm sure she's sick of all of his protests. But she couldn't have expected anything else. Of course we'd be against shoving her into a world of danger and weapons and all the crazy ideas that came back with her. Some of her plans are just plain insane, stupidly risky-even for her.

"Isla, no." Warner says, completely stubborn, but as much as I trust and love Isla, I can't help but agree with him. Not only will it be almost impossible to organize, setting up a date between her and an evil, sadistic diplomat just to get into a damn top-secret party is far too dangerous. As strong as she is, as smart, she can't win all the time. She might not be able to take him down, not discreetly enough, if it comes to that. And none of us even really know just how far Isla would go to get what she wants. What she'd agree to do with that perverted man, just to keep her plan on track. I hate to think of her that way, but I'm sure she's no stranger to giving men what they want just to leave their hold alive. I'm sure she's no stranger to sacrifice. "We'll think of something else. It's too risky. If it doesn't work, your cover could be blown. You could die."

"Tell me something I don't know," she says on a breath, rubbing her eyes, a pen between her fingers. From her eyebags and odd lack of energy, I don't think she's getting much sleep. Whether that's because of the worry, or because old habits die hard, I'm not sure. Either way, it needs to stop. She, more than anyone, must know she can't fight a war exhausted. Just like she knows she can't fight a war without all her allies on board, and we're not exactly hopping on enthusiastically.