64. FELIX YEATS (POV)

I turn away from the window, my eyes locking on Isabelle once again.

My woman.

My heaven and my hell at the same time.

And she doesn’t even know it yet.

“If I were you, I’d start running, Matthew.” My voice is calm, almost gentle. “But run fast. Because when I do find you…” I pause, letting the weig...

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