Relief crashes through me, overwhelming, and I run to him, clutching his arm like a lifeline.
“You came for me. Oh God, you came for me. Matteo, please—”
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. He pushes past, barking orders to men behind him to grab me. Two others seize Emil, dragging him from the wreckage, pinning his arms behind his back. Emil fights them, teeth bared, but he’s outnumbered, outgunned. Blood trickles from a gash on his forehead.
“No, stop!” I twist, trying to break free, panic sharp in my throat. “Don’t hurt him! Matteo, please—”
He ignores me, cold as stone. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He answers, listens for a moment, his eyes scanning the wrecked cars and bleeding men. My world narrows to the sound of his breathing, the tremble in his hand.
He lowers the phone, voice flat, empty of all comfort. “Father says… kill them both.”
The words slice through me, deeper than any wound. The hope in my chest dies, hollow and final. I look from Matteo to Emil.
I don’t have time to scream before everything turns to chaos again.
My world freezes. Matteo lifts his gun, hands shaking, eyes haunted by something I can’t read. I stagger backward, breath caught in my throat.
“Matteo… you can’t—” My voice is barely a whisper, thin and desperate.
I search his face for the cousin I knew, the boy who once slipped me pastries under the table at family dinners, who grinned when our fathers weren’t watching. There’s nothing left of him. Only a man caught in a war he can’t win.
He glances away, jaw clenched, sweat shining at his hairline. The gun wavers for a heartbeat, then drops to his side.
“Run,” he mutters, so low I almost don’t hear it. “I’ll tell him you got away.”
The world spins. I look at Emil, struggling on the ground, three men pinning him down, blood pouring from his temple. He meets my eyes—anger, fear, command blazing all at once.
“Go!” he shouts, voice raw and torn. “Run, Isabella! Now!”
But my feet won’t move. Everything inside me wars—leave, stay, help, hide. I’m rooted to the earth, the crash of panic in my head drowning out the rest. Matteo grabs my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
“Run before I change my mind!” he hisses, the mask cracking for just a second. “Please.”
I want to scream, to beg him to stop, to grab Emil and drag him into the woods with me. But there’s no time. The men are shouting, guns swinging, someone calls my name. My heart breaks, split clean down the middle.
I turn and run, stumbling into the trees, branches tearing at my dress, feet slipping on roots and moss and mud. I run until my lungs burn and my legs shake, until my sobs are lost in the thunder of blood in my ears.
I don’t know how far I go. Miles, maybe, through scrub and shadows and the scent of pine and rot. The road appears out of nowhere, an old pickup rattling toward me, headlights blazing through the dusk.
I flag it down with shaking hands, gasping out half a story about a car accident and men with guns. The driver—a womanold enough to be my grandmother, eyes sharp with suspicion and concern—lets me in, silent as I sob in the passenger seat.
She drops me off on a quiet street. I know it only by the number on the mailbox. Dimitri’s house, a place Emil said was safe, a place that smells like gun oil, clean linen, and strong coffee. I stumble up the steps, fists pounding on the door until my knuckles bleed.
It swings open, and Dimitri stares at me, shock flashing across his face before he pulls me inside, hands steady but gentle. I collapse against his chest, all the fear and adrenaline crashing down at once.
“They tried to kill us. Matteo… Emil—” I can’t get the words out, choking on sobs and blood and dirt.
He doesn’t waste time. He lifts me, deposits me on the sofa, then grabs his gun from a drawer. His voice is a knife, sharp and precise as he barks orders into his phone.
“Lukyan. Emergency. They took Emil. I want every man we have out searching. No one stops until we find him.” He turns to me, softer now. “Tell me everything. Quickly.”
I try. Between sobs and shudders, I piece it together—the black cars, the crash, the armed men, the way Matteo shoved me into the woods. How he’d saved my life with a word, how Emil’s blood stained the ground as they dragged him away.
Dimitri listens without a single interruption, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed with fury. When I finish, he paces, running a hand through his hair.
“They weren’t supposed to move this soon. Bastards.”
My hands shake. “Why would they do this? Why would they try to kill me?”
