He hesitates only a moment. “Because you’re a humiliation to them now,” he says, voice low and bitter. “You’re part of us. Part of the Bratva. They can’t bear it. Your uncle… he’d rather see you dead than see the world believe a Bruno belongs to the Russians. You’re proof we have power over them. You’re a symbol of everything they’ve lost.”
The truth is worse than I imagined. “He doesn’t love me,” I whisper, the words crumbling as they leave my mouth. “Not enough.”
Dimitri doesn’t lie. “No. Not enough. Greed means more to men like your uncle than blood ever could. You’re a pawn to them, Isabella. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
It hurts more than any wound. I curl in on myself, body wracked with silent sobs, every hope I ever had shriveling up and dying in my chest. My own family would rather see me dead than let me live in the shadow of another man’s empire.
Dimitri kneels beside me, voice quieter. “You’re not alone. We’ll get Emil back. I swear it.”
Somehow, that promise holds me together. I wipe my eyes, drawing a shaky breath. “If they hurt him—”
He squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
He stands, already dialing again, voice sharp and commanding as he rallies his men. I watch him, tears drying on my cheeks, feeling the old Isabella dying and something harder, sharper taking root in her place. I am no one’s pawn, not anymore.
Tomorrow, the world will know what happens when you try to kill what refuses to break.
Dimitri grabs his jacket, sliding a pistol into his waistband, and leans over me as I struggle to sit up.
“We have to move fast, Isabella. Do you remember anything else—license plates, faces, where they took Emil?”
I shake my head, fighting panic. “It happened so fast. Matteo… he was there, but he saved me. He told me to run. The rest, I don’t really remember.” My voice breaks. “There were three cars. I think they went north, back toward the old highway, but I can’t be sure.”
Dimitri curses under his breath, already dialing. “That helps. We’ll search every mile. Stay here and lock the door. No one comes in unless it’s me or Lukyan.”
I clutch his sleeve. “Dimitri, please, if you find them, if you find Emil… don’t let them kill him. Promise me.”
His expression softens, only for a heartbeat. “I promise. He’s too valuable to lose. Besides, you’re family now, Isabella, like it or not.”
I close my eyes, relief and terror warring in my chest. “Thank you. Just bring him home.”
He nods once, sharp and decisive, then glances at me, softer now. “You did the right thing. Don’t blame yourself for any of this.”
As he heads for the door, barking orders into his phone, I curl up on the sofa, listening to the house settle around me; each tick of the clock is another second closer to whatever comes next. My family tried to erase me, but I’m still here.
I whisper into the empty room, “Hang on, Emil. We’re coming for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six - Emil
The room stinks of blood, sweat, and old cigarette smoke.
My hands are tied behind a splintered chair, ankles lashed to the legs with wire that’s already cutting into my skin. I’ve been here for hours. Maybe longer; it’s hard to tell. The world shrinks to pain and waiting.
Blood crusts my face, sticky at the edge of my mouth. My right eye is nearly swollen shut, but I keep my head up, jaw locked, breath slow and measured. I know how this goes. Pain is just another kind of silence.
The door opens with a rasp of hinges. Vittorio enters, savoring every step. He wears a suit the color of a funeral, a ring glinting on each finger. His shoes are polished, but there’s blood on the soles. Mine, or someone else’s, I don’t care. He stands a few feet away, hands clasped, letting the weight of the moment press down.
“You took my niece,” he says, voice like ice over gravel. “You thought you could take what belonged to me and get away with it?”
I don’t answer. I just look at him, steady, unblinking, even as blood drips down my chin. He wants me to beg or bargain or break. He’ll get none of it.
He circles me, slow and deliberate, enjoying his power. “She was all I had left. Now she’s nothing—an enemy’s whore. You did that to her. I will make sure she dies knowing what you cost her.”
I let the words hang in the stale air, eyes locked on his. A predator’s patience. He leans in, close enough that I smellthe scotch on his breath. He spits at my feet, then straightens, signaling the men by the door.
One comes forward and cracks me across the cheek with his pistol. My head snaps sideways, but I refuse to grunt. Refuse to give them the satisfaction.
“Nothing to say?” Vittorio sneers. He nods, and the man strikes me again, this time in the gut.
