Her blue eyes scan the crowd frantically, panic etched across them.

My heart skips a beat when they latch onto me.

I feel a spark rush between us, startlingly intense.

A message.

Her eyes cry out for help even as she sets her mouth firmly in resignation. My fingers ache to touch her, hands yearning to reach out and pull her from his grasp.

The Governor.

That monster.

Her white gown swishes around her feet as he spins her for all the world to see, looking like his perfect bride. The image makes me feel sick.

“We should go,” Benny says from my side, drawing me from my thoughts.

I know that he’s right. Getting caught here would be a disaster.

Still, I can’t seem to force my feet into action. I can’t seem to drag my eyes from her twirling form.

“Tristan,” Merc says, more forceful. “Time to leave.”

I pull my eyes from Isobel with a near audible rip, severing the connection. The force that’s drawing me to her doesn’t yield easily.

Merc and Benny are right, though. We have to leave before the party ends. We absolutely cannot be recognized here.

Three Montagues crashing any Capulet party might be enough to start a war. The Capulet girl’s engagement party, though?

That has bloodshed written all over it.

I turn to Merc and Benny, forcing my face into some semblance of normality as I do.

“Let’s go then,” I say, as if I didn’t just have to force the words from my mouth.

Merc’s moving already, shouldering his way through the crowd as politely as possible. No point in drawing attention now.

Benny stills before following him, eyes searching my face for a moment too long. Leave it to Benny to see through my game face.

I gesture for the exit, pointedly ignoring the questions in his eyes.

I definitely can’t handle that now. I can’t explain what I’m feeling, not to myself and definitely not to Benny.

Thankfully, he goes ahead without any further delay, seamlessly blending into the crowd around him.

I follow his lead, avoiding any eye contact that might lead to conversation, taking up as little space as possible with a frame like mine. Nobody seems to notice us, their attention firmly held by the swaying couple currently on display.

And that’s what this is.

A display.

The power and connections of the Capulets, all dressed up and parading about.

I’ve reached the edge of the crowd, moments from freedom, when something drives my head to turn once again.

In the center of the room, the dance has finally ended, applause echoing from the ceiling. Isobel stands still beside the Governor, looking small and fragile at his side.

My heart hurts as I follow her eyes. They eagerly search the side of the room, the place I’ve just left. I know she’s looking for me.

What I wouldn’t give to go to her now.

Love isn’t something I’ve ever been given cause to believe in. The life I’ve lived has always denied, if not outright forbid it.

Looking at her now, though, watching her eyes rake across the churning crowd, I have no other explanation for the way I feel.

I allow myself to look at her a moment more before turning.

As I push through the final remnants of the crowd, I feel determination sweep through me.

This is not the last time I’ll see Isobel Capulet.

I’ll make damn sure of that.

We exit the Capulet building unnoticed, my eyes stalling just a moment too long on a dark corner of the lobby. Her taste finds its way back to my tongue. I can practically feel her wrists in my hand—slender yet somehow full of strength.

It takes a force of will for me to continue out through the door.

The walk to the limo is a rush, rain pelting our exposed faces as we go. It soaks us through in the handful of seconds it takes to arrive.

I half collapse onto the seat the moment I get through the door, the depth of my emotions seeming to have taken a physical toll.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so tired.

A cold glass presses into my limp hand, and I murmur my thanks to Merc before whiskey scorches its way down my throat, relief chasing close behind.

“She’s really something,” Benny says, breaking the silence.

Merc smiles fiendishly. “Sure fucking is. I can see why they keep her locked up.”

His eyes fog over, hinting at thoughts I’d rather he not explore further.

“I kissed her,” I say, half to relieve myself of the burden, half to bring Merc’s mind back to reality.

Four eyes turn quickly to me, just as I knew they would.

“And?” Benny asks.

“It was…different,” I say, unsure of how to explain myself.

Frankly, I’m unsure I would, even if I knew how.

“Different,” Benny parrots. “In a good way?”

I nod unenthusiastically.

“Good,” Benny says, smiling. “You need different. I hate to say it, but what you’re doing really isn’t working.”

I raise an eyebrow in question, and he laughs.

“Did you really think Rosaline was enough to make you happy?” he asks. “Or any of those one-time fucks? Face it, you need different. You need more.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I don’t like it.” Merc says, resolute.

“Oh, come on,” Benny says. “You know I’m right.”

“In general? Maybe. With the Capulet’s little princess? Fuck no.”

Merc’s eyes find me intensely, staring daggers. He says, “You need to think this through, man. You’re fucking playing with fire.”

Merc doesn’t know the half of it.

I’m not playing with fire; I’m fondling a fucking atom bomb.

The smallest slip-up, the whole city goes up in flames.

I nod my understanding to Merc, unsure of what else to do. He knows as well as I that this is a recipe for disaster. What he doesn’t know may be even more important.

The depth of my feelings for her feel tightly bunched in my chest.

I bite my tongue, keeping any further thoughts of Isobel Capulet to myself. There’s no point in voicing the maelstrom raging inside my mind. I can’t make sense of it, so they damn sure won’t be able to.

All I know is that the moment I laid my eyes on her, she belonged to me.

Even one kiss was enough to make me feel possessive beyond all sanity.

I can feel it—white-hot fire spreading through me. It tells me that I have to have her. She has to be mine.

Otherwise, I’ll be consumed entirely.

I finish my whiskey in one long drink, feeling my thoughts click into place as I do.

“I have a plan.” I say, my voice dripping with a confidence I don’t quite feel.

All eyes are on me again as I lean forward, face set in determination.

“Tell us,” Benny says, conspiratorially.

“We’re going back tonight.” I say, plan solidifying even as the words leave my mouth.

“To the Capulets’’?” Benny asks in surprise.

“Why?” Merc demands.

“Because,” I say, feeling a grin spreading across my face. “We’re going to kidnap their princess.”