I stepped closer, and my voice dropped. "I hope one day you’ll believe me."
I reached out, fingers brushing her cheek before she could pull away.
For a second, she didn't move. Then I turned away, leaving her standing there, in front of the broken mirror, surrounded by shards of everything she thought was true. And maybe, for the first time, she finally saw the cracks in me, too.
I left because I should show her more vulnerability.
**********
I stood by the window when Yuri walked in, phone in hand, his face was hard.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Marco Moretti slipped out last night," Yuri said. "Private plane. Traced calls to the Italians. He's offering Isabella to a don for protection, as a new alliance."
My chest went cold. "He'd sell his daughter?"
Yuri didn't look away. "Looks like it."
I laughed, low and ugly. "He'll trade her like she's meat."
"Maybe we can track the flight," Yuri said.
"Too late." I pushed the chair hard, papers scattered, and my hand shook.
"Find Marco. Find the don. Find anyone who touched that plane," I ordered. "Double security on her, sweep every route, and burn any safehouse if we have to."
Yuri tried to calm me. "We will–"
"No," I cut him off. "They think they can bargain for her. Let them try."
He warned me, "You can't start a war on a rumor."
"This isn't a rumor," I said, staring at the city. "This is betrayal."
I grabbed a gun from the drawer, and the metal steadied me.
"If they want war," I whispered, pressing my forehead to the glass, "I'll give them war.”
Chapter Nineteen
Isabella’s POV
I heard them before I saw them. Their voices were low and sharp, the kind you only use when the topic couldn’t leave the room. I stopped outside the door and listened. Emilia and Liza, and my chest tightened.
"...he did it," Liza was saying. "Marco walked. He took the deal. He sold her again."
Emilia's voice was softer, almost breaking. "Liza, don't–"
My feet moved before my head did. I pushed the door open, and the room went quiet like someone had cut off the sound. Both of them looked up. I must have looked like a wreck, my hair was still wet from the shower, mascara half gone where I'd rubbed my eyes earlier, my skin was still cold from the night.
"What's happened?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Liza didn't bother with softness. She stood, crossing her arms. "He left last night in a private plane. He's gone to Italy. He's looking for protection." Her words were business-like, the way someone signed a contract. "He offered you as the price."
The world narrowed to those words. For a second, I thought I'd misheard. I looked at Emilia, hoping she would say no, no, that's not true. But her face was set, and she looked away.
"He did it again," I said, the whisper breaking. "My father... he sold me again."
