She was kneeling in front of the one man she never thought she would need. He wasn’t evil, nor had she ever heard of him indulging in any bad habits, but he was known for one thing—he was not a helper. Mercy was not in his nature, yet at that moment, she clung to the desperate hope that, just this once, he might make an exception and save her life.
Lifting her head with effort, she winced under the heavy rain, dragging her broken legs in a feeble attempt to reach him. He stood tall before her, an umbrella shielding him from the downpour. Though she couldn’t make out his face clearly, his cold, piercing gaze burned straight through her soul.
A pained grunt left her lips as she stretched a trembling hand toward him, barely able to function as her body weakened by the second. Her vision blurred, the darkness creeping in. The fire’s devastation had left her face unrecognizable, her skin raw with pain, her blood flowing freely. She knew she looked monstrous—exactly what they had intended to turn her into. And now, she could hardly see at all.
“Please… help me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.
He crouched down to her level, his umbrella now shielding her from the rain. With a slow, deliberate motion, he placed a hand under her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze. His voice was as indifferent as ever when he finally spoke.
“I thought you knew… helping is not my thing.”
Of course, she had known. But somehow, she had still hoped. Hoped that maybe—just maybe—he would make an exception. He wouldn't be that wicked to neglect her in this position.
But it seemed she was doomed already.
.
.
.
She used to believe in love. She used to believe in family. She used to believe in trust.
But trust had nearly cost Isabelle her life.
Once, she was just an ordinary girl, hoping for a better future. A future that was promised to her—a life she thought would finally bring her happiness. But in one horrifying night, it was all ripped away. Betrayed, burned, and left to die, she learned the hardest truth: no one was coming to save her.
Now, Isabelle is back—but she’s not the girl they left behind in the fire.
With a new face and a new name, she has returned for one thing: revenge.
But when the man who once refused to help her becomes the only one she can turn to, lines begin to blur. He is ruthless, powerful, and utterly unreadable. She should hate him because he is just one of them—she should fear him—but in his touch, she finds a dangerous kind of solace instead.
And in his arms, she just might lose herself all over again. She knows she is playing with fire but maybe this fire won't hurt her.
