𝗨𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

Chapter six

Noah's POV

"Stop crying, you're safe," I said softly, my thumb gently brushing away the tears from Isabella's face. I hated seeing her in pain. No one deserves to endure such suffering, especially not her.

She shivered against me, so I held her tighter, wanting her to feel my warmth, to know she was protected. Her head rested on my chest, and I could feel my heart racing faster than usual. Her hand on my arm and chest made me acutely aware of her presence, a weight I wasn't used to feeling so intensely.

I kept my gaze fixed on her, my eyes tracing the contours of her red curls. She had the most captivating eyes I'd ever seen, a spark that seemed to light up even the darkest parts of my world.

As she looked up at me, our eyes locked. Then, she let her gaze fall again and drifted into sleep. She looked so peaceful in her slumber, a stark contrast to the terror she had faced.

Rowan's voice cut through my thoughts. "I don't want Isabella to get hurt."I raised an eyebrow, confused. "And why is that?" I asked. Rowan didn't know her well; why would he care so much?

"Because she makes the best croissants, and those cupcakes—my mouth is watering just thinking about them," he said, almost wistfully. "If anything happens to her, we won't get any of those anymore."

I was taken aback by his nonchalance. "Are you seriously talking about pastries right now, Rowan? The girl was about to be raped, and you're thinking about your stomach?"

He chuckled. "Well, yeah. And why did you run for her? Why is she on your lap?"

I didn't have an answer, but Rowan seemed to read something in my eyes. "Okay, okay, don't answer. I see it in your eyes, Noah."

"What do you see in my eyes, Rowan?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Sparkle," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I shook my head, dismissing his remarks. "Where is her home? Where should I go?"

Rowan shrugged. "Drive up to the mansion; she'll stay with us tonight." I considered calling Andrew for her address, but it felt simpler to bring her to the mansion. It was the least I could do after what had happened.

The house was a good 45 minutes from the base. As we drove, I found myself distracted by thoughts of Isabella. She was the closest anyone had been to me in a long time, and it was... unsettling.

A tear had fallen from her eye earlier, and I brushed it away, hoping to erase all her pain. I could barely keep my eyes off her. She was beautiful, even in her distress. As she slept, her face was troubled by nightmares. She reached out for my hand in her sleep, and when our hands touched, the pain seemed to leave her, replaced by a serene expression. It felt strangely right, the way our hands fit together.

I had to push these feelings aside. I couldn't let myself get attached. It would only lead to more trouble for her.

As we arrived at the mansion, Daniel appeared, ready to help. "Do you want me to bring her up to the guest room, Noah?"

"No, I'll do it myself," I replied tersely. I didn't want Daniel near her. He might try something inappropriate, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Alright," Daniel said, retreating with an exaggerated bow.

I carried Isabella upstairs and gently placed her on my bed. I couldn't leave her in the guest room; if Daniel returned, he might cause trouble. I also made sure to lock the door.

I had a rule about not sharing my bed, but tonight was an exception. I couldn't leave her alone after what she'd been through. I wouldn't sleep beside her, though. I needed to work, to focus on the upcoming ball event and the decisions I needed to make.

I settled into the office chair and opened my computer, remembering something. I needed to find out Isabella's full name. I texted Andrew, who quickly responded with, "Isabella Rose Robinson."

I entered her name into the search engine of our hacked police system. The screen loaded, and her file appeared. I clicked on it, the details of her life unfolding before me. As I read through her file, my thoughts were filled with a mix of concern and something else I couldn't quite define. The girl who had stumbled into my life tonight was more than just a victim; she was a person with a story, and I was now a part of it.