He openly stared at me for a couple of seconds, then his eyebrows furrowed, and his expression changed into naked concern.
What’s wrong?
What was it with those Zotovs? First Nina and now him? I didn’t say a word, but somehow, he read my terror like it was written across my face. His gaze flicked to Grey, then Marcus, then back to me, eyes narrowing slightly.
Grey or him? Is he a threat?
I gave him the slightest shrug, almost imperceptible.
But Ivan’s jaw tightened, his posture shifting subtly from casual to combat-ready.
I’m here.
This silent communication should have been impossible between us. We’d known each other for days, not years. Our families were enemies who entered a temporary truce. Yet in this moment, he could read me; we read each other perfectly, like we’d been doing this dance our whole lives.
I realized right this moment that whatever had grown between us wasn’t just physical attraction, a one-night stand, or a circumstantial alliance. It was something deeper, more instinctive—a recognition of similar souls. Something I wasn’t ready to let go so easily.
Before I could process this revelation, Mira appeared with the other girls, laughing about something until she caught sight of our visitor. Her expression froze, then hardened into something I rarely saw on my gentle twin’s face: pure hatred.
Without hesitation, she moved to my side, her shoulder pressing against mine in silent solidarity. Her hand found mine and squeezed once, hard.
“How…?” she whispered, barely audible.
I shrugged.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded again and squeezed back, grateful beyond words for her presence. “I am.”
Mira knew. She was the only one who truly understood what Marcus represented—the nightmares, the panic attacks, the unhealthy coping mechanisms. No words were needed between us; we’d perfected our own silent language long before I’d learned to communicate with Ivan.
With Mira on one side and Nina still on the other, I straightened my spine even more. The panic receded, replaced by something stronger. And it finally sank in. I wasn’t a helpless child anymore. And I wasn’t alone.
Marcus’s eyes moved between Mirabella and me, a small smile playing on his lips. “And which one of you was Isabella again? I always had a soft spot for her.”
That smile was all it took, and my world tilted sideways. My vision narrowed to a tunnel, overwhelming my senses as past and present collided violently. The hard drive with the evidence weighed a ton in my pocket as I struggled tostay in the present moment, to not let the past overwhelm me.
I was vaguely aware of Vince growling and Ivan taking a step toward me, concern flashing across his face, but Mira moved between us, instinctively protective. The next thing I knew, I was being led away by a group of women—Mira, Cara, Fee, Nina, and Mila—their voices a distant murmur compared to the roaring in my ears.
As we turned the corner, two thoughts cut through the fog of terror and went on repeat:
He can’t be here. Not him. Anyone but him.
and
I should be over it. His presence shouldn’t trigger me this much.
But there was still one fact I couldn’t deny as much as I wanted to.
Some monsters hide in plain sight. Mine wore Italian suits and called himself “Uncle.”
27
IVAN
My muscles tensed, and I looked at my watch before I entered the conference room.
Marcus Moretti’s cologne hit me first. Too strong. Too familiar.
