“We’re temporary allies with a common enemy,” Vince said.
I nodded again because what else was there to do? Because he was right. This was a temporary truce. Very temporary and fragile because as soon as Vince discovered what had already happened between Shorty and me, he would probably kill me. At least that’s what I would do if the roles were reversed.
“Sometimes that’s enough,” I replied. Because theprobability of Shorty and me having any kind of future was way down there.
And the professional needed to take precedence over the personal anyway. We needed to neutralize Grey first. Everything else would have to wait until after.
As we approached the pool area, my eyes found Isabella immediately despite my attempts not to look for her. She sat laughing with my sisters, her head tilted back, dark brown hair catching the sunlight. Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I deliberately maintained physical distance, positioning myself at the opposite end of the gathering. I settled the professional mask I’d worn for years back into place with practiced ease.
From my position, I observed the subtle currents moving through the group. Cristo gravitated instantly toward Cara, his body language shifting from predatory to protective. Alex maintained a watchful stance near Fee, his eyes constantly scanning for threats while returning to her with magnetic regularity. Matt seemed to gravitate toward Nina, who appeared equally committed to ignoring his entire existence.
Isabella glanced up, her eyes finding mine across the distance. For a moment, everything else faded—the mission, the danger, the complications.
I intentionally looked away and ignored her until she looked away, as well, and resumed her conversation with Mila.
Anton approached, his expression carefully neutral. “Communications room is ready when you are,” he said quietly.
I looked back at Shorty. Whatever existed between us would have to wait. Grey was the immediate threat, and eliminating that threat was the rational thing to do and took priority over everything else.
But as I watched her—confident, focused, determined—I knew rationality had shockingly little to do with my decisions and actions anymore. I would protect Isabella Salvini with my life if necessary, not because it was tactically sound or professionally justified, but because something fundamental had shifted inside me.
For the first time in my adult life, survival wasn’t what mattered most.
She was.
And even though that realization should’ve been the most terrifying I’d faced in years, it was the easiest ever.
24
ISABELLA
The sun beat down on my skin, deceptively cheerful for a day that might determine whether I lived or died.
Because if Grey had fooled Ivan and dared to lay his hands on me again, it was either him or me who would survive.
I settled into one of the plush loungers by the pool, trying to look relaxed while my mind remained on high alert. Roman had escorted us here before disappearing to take up a position somewhere. The chlorine scent drifted up from the impossibly blue water, mixing with the salt air carried on the stiff breeze from the nearby ocean. Apparently, there was a storm approaching that might hit the island later today.
Mira sat beside me, her presence as familiar as my own shadow. Around us, our unlikely circle formed—Jemma lounging with casual grace, Fee adjusting her sunglasses, Cara perched nervously at the edge of her chair. Nina and Mila completed our group, their postures mirroring mine—seemingly casual but with a constant awareness of our surroundings.
I hated this waiting game. Every moment Grey remained on the island was another moment of danger. But Ivan was right—it was smarter to wait for his departure before making our move. The thought of Ivan sent an unexpected warmth through me, my body still carrying the memory of his touch from last night—followed by a substantial wave of regret. What had I been thinking letting my guard down so completely? I’d panicked when I woke up alone and found the door locked. But as soon as he came back, I realized how quickly and completely I’d come to trust him and his siblings—people who had been enemies just days ago. There was something about the way he looked at me, the way he trusted me, that made it so much easier to trust him, as well. Which was not smart at all. If I’d learned one thing in my life and with my upbringing, it was that feeling too deeply was never a good thing.
“So,” Jemma broke the silence, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, “are you finally going to tell us exactly what happened with Grey the day before yesterday?”
Seven pairs of eyes turned to me, expressions ranging from concern to intense curiosity.
I shrugged, keeping my voice deliberately casual. “He tried to interrogate me. It didn’t go as planned for him.”
“That’s it?” Fee raised an eyebrow. “You come back drugged out of your freaking mind and only half-conscious, and that’s all we get?”
“There’s not much to tell.” I ran my fingers through myhair, avoiding direct eye contact. “He wanted information; I didn’t give it to him.”
The truth was more complicated. Fragments of my interrogation with Grey kept surfacing in my memory—his questions about my hacking skills, mentions of my mother, the way he’d looked at me. I couldn’t be sure what I’d done under the influence of the drugs he’d given me. Even though Ivan assured me I couldn’t have done much damage in the short amount of time he had me. But what if his sudden departure meant he’d gotten what he wanted from me? The thought made my stomach clench.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Mira said quietly beside me. “At least to me.”
“Well, let’s talk about Ivan Zotov then,” Fee said, then waggled her eyebrows.
