There’s a break in the clouds, and the sun is shining through.

It’s been a stormy week at the mansion, both figuratively and literally.

Every night that I’ve been here, Tristan has come to my room and devoured me.

There’s passion burning between us that’s unbreakable and indefinable. Sometimes, he drags me back to his bedroom. Sometimes, we do it in mine.

The location doesn’t seem to matter. All that matters to me is that my heart now beats for this one man, this person.

He’s taught me the ropes, the throes of passion, and there’s no escaping the heat now.

Right now, I’m walking the grounds by myself. The sunshine feels good on my skin. It’s been nice to get out every day just to explore the surrounding forest in the overgrown gardens.

It’s a reality that’s in stark contrast to my time being a Capulet princess locked in the tower. The only outside air I was able to breathe was from my balcony, which I used to think about jumping from every single day of my life.

But all that has changed now because of Tristan.

Every morning and afternoon, I take a walk around the mansion. He seems to trust me, knowing that I won’t run away, that I won’t run from him anymore.

Besides, even if I wanted to escape, there’s really nowhere to go. We’re so far out in the middle of nowhere I wouldn’t know which way to turn.

And I know what’s good for me. I know that staying with Tristan is the right idea. I feel like I can trust him. He continually reminds me of that.

This is what being in love means. Our two hearts beat as one. He knows what I’m thinking before I say it.

There’s this unspoken connection between us that’s fiery and passionate and overwhelming. My entire life revolves around him, and it feels good.

I walk through the wet grass with my tall rain boots and my slip dress on, a blanket around my shoulders like a shawl. It feels so fucking good to get fresh air, and I realize what I’ve been missing out on my entire life.

My father and mother might’ve kept me hidden away in the sky rise; they might’ve afforded me every luxury, presents, and a glamorous life. But I was never allowed to leave. It was a virtual fortress, and I just can’t believe how good it feels to get away from there.

Tristan’s guys have shown up, and there are bodyguards everywhere. The war is still looming.

Merc and Benny and I get along really well. They’re nice. Merc is somewhat darker than Benny, but Benny always makes me feel at ease. I guess you could say we’re becoming friends.

I trudge through the mud and grass, and it feels so refreshing to get some fresh air and to get dirty. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been missing out on in nature.

The birds swoop into a distant lake to catch their prey, and I think how I’ve been caught. I am Tristan’s prey. I know he’ll never let me go or be in danger for a second, but he has caught me.

At least this is what I tell myself. I know he’s good at his job, he’s good at what he does. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a Capulet and Montague war that’s been ignited.

Tristan made the first move, and I imagine my father and his gangsters are searching the streets for me everywhere. I imagine they would kill Tristan if they found us.

This is the sad truth, and the truth I try to forget about every day. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about any more sadness or anything upsetting. I’m too perfectly happy out here with him.

I can see the bodyguards watching me from a distance. Tristan insists I have privacy and time to roam around the grounds. He knows it’s important for me to get out, considering all the years I was held in captivity.

So I spend the afternoon roaming and hiking around the place. When dusk starts to fall, I head back to the mansion, knowing Tristan will be worried if I don’t get inside soon.

We have dinner every night, and tonight is no exception. He’s hired a private chef and everything. It’s just going to be the two of us dining, and it sends flutters through my entire body to think of having time with him alone.

Maybe he’s thinking about revealing his ultimate plan to me. As of now, he’s kept me in the dark, not wanting me to know just in case people try to get information out of me later.

I trudge back to the house just as the sun is starting to set, and I see Tristan standing outside waiting for me. He looks so hot and rugged set against the gothic mansion.

I walk towards him, and a smile breaks out across his face.

“How is it that you can look so fucking gorgeous wearing nothing but your nightgown and boots, covered in mud?”

His words make me blush a little. Even though we’re in love, I’m never entirely comfortable around him because he sets my world on fire. I’m always on high alert, tuned into what he wants and needs and desires.

This is how it feels to be fused with another person.

“Hi,” I say, raising myself up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Today was a great day. The sun was shining, and it felt so good.”

He envelops me in his arms and kisses me long and hard.

Every day with Tristan I find my self-esteem and confidence rising. I’ve always been pretty okay with who I am, but he’s teaching me how to be strong.

In addition to my walks around the gardens and the grounds, Tristan takes me out to the little place in the woods, and we have target practice with his gun that’s inscribed with those poetic words.

I find that shooting is a nice release. It’s like the ultimate escape. Who knew shooting a gun could be an escape in itself.

When I hold it, I feel powerful. When his arms are wrapped around me, teaching me how to use it, I feel like everything’s going to be okay like I can protect myself in his absence.

“No target practice today?” I ask him.

His eyes turn serious, and I don’t know why.

He says, “No. I had some other things to attend to today. I hope you had a nice time outside.”

“I did. But I missed you.”

“Why don’t you go get ready for dinner? The chef’s gonna be here soon, and I have something to talk to you about.”

I look into his eyes searching for an answer. I feel worried all of a sudden.

What could he possibly have to tell me that’s so important? Why can’t he just tell me now?

I just want to continue living in this ideal environment, being happy. I don’t want outside news or anything to upset me. I’m not ready to let go of this life.

I say none of that, of course.

“Okay, well I’m just gonna go to my room to get ready for dinner. I’ll be down in about an hour.”

He’s solemn and serious as ever, and it makes me feel unbalanced. Usually, he’s not so sober with me.

I walk past him and lightly trace his rippling abs as I go by. It never gets old.

Every part of his body is rock hard. He’s like a beast of a man and I can’t get enough.

I walk the many steps it takes to get to my room. I’m up in the tower, and my place is not that far away from Tristan’s.

The bodyguards watch me as I go by. They’re friendly but stoic all the time, knowing their mission is to protect me.

Once I get to my room, I slip out of my muddy clothes and into a bath.

I want to look perfect for Tristan tonight. I always want to look perfect for him.

I twist my long wavy blonde hair up into a bun so that it doesn’t get wet. I take a quick bath using the special imported lavender soaps he’s bought for me.

I wash off quickly and think about him the entire time. I have many fantasies about him throughout the day, thinking of the things that I want him to do to me. As it is, most of our action happens at night under the cover of darkness, and that’s the way I like it.

I slip out of the bath and dry off with the plush towel that’s been provided. I put different oils on my body and make sure my skin is nice and smooth. Then, I trace the outline of my eyes with some deep black pencil, and I smear on a coating of red lipstick.

In my closet where my few belongings are hanging, I see a long gray dress that hugs my form perfectly, and I choose that one. Luckily, Tristan did pack some stuff for me.

And then I put on my lace-up, thigh-high boots. They make me feel powerful and are better than having to wear heels all the time.

I let my hair down and tousle it over my shoulders before checking my reflection for a final time in the mirror.

Nervous butterflies twist in my stomach as they usually do. Whenever I’m around Tristan, or in the same vicinity as him, I feel happy and yet so nervous and excited.

I walk down to the dining room, and it’s just us at the huge table. There are candles lit and soft music playing.

Tristan is there, looking casual in a cashmere shirt and slacks.

“What will you drink, baby?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Usually, Merc and Benny dine with us at night, but they’re not here.

Tristan opens a bottle of red and brings it over to the table. He pours me a glass, and I look at him the entire time, wondering what this could all be about.

The chef comes out and introduces himself. He tells me the menu items for the night. It’s a five-course meal, and it sounds like it’s going to be very elegant.

I’m really hungry after my day of walking so many miles around the place.

But I savor the wine because it’s like the best bottle I’ve ever tasted. Tristan seems to be a wine aficionado. He seems to be an aficionado of a great many things.

When the chef brings out the first course, I decide it’s time to break the ice.

“So, Tristan, what is this about? You have me feeling worried.”

He sips his wine thoughtfully and swishes it around in the glass.

“I do have something to tell you, Isobel. But I’m afraid you’re not gonna like it,” he says, looking at me determined and businesslike.

I think I know what he’s going to tell me, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want it to come true. I know it must be about the ongoing war with my family.

Why else would he call me down here and want to have this private conversation?

“What is it? I can handle it. Please just tell me,” I say, just wanting to get it over with.

He’s sitting close to me, closer than ever. He always does.

He places his hand on my own and says, “Your father knows where you are, Isobel. The battle lines have been drawn.”

“What? What are you talking about, Tristan? I thought they didn’t know about this place. How did things end up this way?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, baby. Maybe they have spies here. Maybe they’ve spotted all my guys coming in and out of the city. I just don’t know. But he knows you’re here, and we have to prepare for the worst.”

I try to tame my raging heart. All I can think about is how much I hate my father at this moment for doing this to me and to my life. Why can’t he just leave us alone?

Likely, he never thought I could never fall for Tristan Montague. But I have. I will never go back to the Governor or his stupid mansion.

I will never go back to my old life. I’d rather die first.

I think of something to say, anything.

“Well Tristan, can’t we just run away somewhere? You must have houses all over the world. Let’s just pick one and go there. My father will never find us,” I say, pleading with him.

He doesn’t even take a minute to think about my suggestion. His intent is to have this war with my father.

He looks at me unsmiling and says, “No, Isobel. It can’t be like that. I don’t run from a fight; you know that. It would ruin my family and my honor to run away from this.”

I can’t stop the tears that are pooling in my eyes. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me.

“Isn’t our love more important than all that? Don’t you care about me more than some delusional sense of family honor?”

He looks at me regretfully, and I know the answer is no. His name means everything to him—more than I do, apparently.

“Isobel, confronting this is something I need to do. Please try to understand. I will keep you safe through all of this.”

I throw my napkin on the table and get out. I can’t even look at him. If he’s willing to destroy all that we have for some battle, then I have nothing more to say to him.

“You know what, Tristan? Screw you and your family honor and everything you think you stand for. You’re doing the wrong thing. And I can’t even look at you,” I say as a storm out of the room.

I run as fast as I can to my room in the tower. The bodyguards look at me, but I don’t care.

Let them see me cry. Nothing matters now.

All I can envision is Tristan’s impending death and possibly my own. He’s putting us both in danger with his reckless need to prove something about being a Montague.

I get to my room, and I slam the door behind me. I hope he doesn’t come find me. I’m not ready to talk to him.

Think about loving somebody so much and then knowing that they could very possibly die within the next few days, and you’ll know something about where I’m at.

Once inside the safe confines of my own space, I crouch down to the floor and begin to cry.

I should’ve known happiness could never be in my grasp.

It evades me every time.