Chapter 125
CHAPTER 12
Around 4 a.m., he was jolted awake by a nightmare so vivid it felt like it was happening in real time. The nightmare was horrific—he saw his own funeral, his body lying motionless in a casket being lowered into the ground. But that wasn’t what haunted him. What stayed with him, clawing at his mind, was the image of Isla. Little Isla, no longer a child in his eyes, but a young woman trapped in a nightmare of her own. She was on the ground, pinned down by two brute men while a third loomed over her, his hands all over her as she screamed, her cries for help echoing in the emptiness. But there was no one there to answer her cries. No one to save her.
Graham’s heart pounded as he shot up from the chair, drenched in cold sweat. The room was still dark, save for the faintest light creeping in from the window. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the terror that clung to him. It was as though the nightmare had seeped into his soul, each detail searing itself into his memory.
He glanced at the clock. It was 4 a.m., an hour before the first light of day. The silence around him was oppressive, and in that quiet, he found himself contemplating everything—the decisions he had made, the life he had led, and the promises he had failed to keep. His mind raced, plagued by thoughts of Isla. She was vulnerable, too vulnerable, and the world was too dangerous for someone like her. He couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers, that the danger wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
An hour later, the first light of day began to creep through the window, casting a faint glow across the room. Graham didn’t notice the beauty of the morning—he couldn’t. He was too focused, too consumed by a new sense of urgency. A mission had formed in his mind, clear and undeniable. He needed to act. He had to protect her. He couldn’t fail her. Not again. This time, he would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe, and he would do it with the precision and determination it required.
At 7 a.m., Edwin knocked on Isla’s door to let her know that breakfast had been laid out in Graham’s room. Ten minutes later, she entered, wearing a pair of old jeans that used to fit her comfortably, but now hung loose around her thin frame. It was another blow to Graham’s heart. She had lost so much weight, and he hated seeing her like this. The poor thing had been through so much, and it made him more certain than ever of his decision. She couldn’t stay like this, not living in fear, not existing in the shadows of a life that had no room for her. She needed care. She needed protection. And he was the only one who could give her that.
As they sat at the table, eating in silence, Graham found himself studying her in a way he never had before. She was so small, so fragile, a thin slip of a girl, but there was something undeniable about her beauty. It struck him with an intensity that almost took him by surprise. Her heart-shaped face, framed by dark, curly hair, and those eyes—those piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the whole sky in them. She was striking, beautiful in a way that no one else could compare to. But the most striking thing was how, until now, he had never truly seen her.
Perhaps it was because he had refused to. Maybe it was because, for so long, he had seen her as nothing more than his step-sister, someone he needed to protect out of obligation. But that phase of their lives was over. Isla was no longer a child. She wasn’t just a girl who needed protection—she was a woman who needed a home. She needed love, and more than anything, she needed a place where she belonged. And if he was the one to offer that, then so be it.
He cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence. “Isla,” he said, his tone serious, “I think we should talk.”
She glanced up at him, a spoonful of yogurt in her hand. “About what?” she asked, her voice soft, but a hint of wariness in her eyes.
Graham hesitated, unsure of what he was about to say, but certain that it was the only thing he could offer her. He had no plan. He wasn’t sure if this would work or if he was making a mistake, but something inside him told him this was the only way forward.
“I think it’s time for us to make some decisions,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. “About your future. About ours.”
He watched her carefully as she processed his words, her brow furrowing slightly as she thought about them. The weight of what he was offering hung in the air between them. He wasn’t asking her for anything in return—he was offering her something that had always been out of reach for her. A family. A home. A life where she could finally belong.
He swallowed hard, his heart beating faster. He couldn’t be sure if this was what she wanted, if it was what she needed. But he couldn’t keep watching her suffer, watching her struggle to find her place in the world. He would give her a place. He would give her a life, one where she wasn’t alone, one where she wasn’t fighting for survival every day.
And as for him? He would be everything she needed—everything she deserved. He had promised himself that he would take care of her, protect her in every way possible. And if she wanted children, he would give that to her too, in time. There was no reason they couldn’t have a successful marriage. No reason why they couldn’t build something together, something stronger than the isolation they had both been living in for far too long.
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