“You were a fucking child,” I said firmly. “The blame and the shame belong entirely to him.”
She nodded slightly, more tears following the first. I brushed them away with my thumb.
Seeing her cry triggered my rage again, rage so intense it frightened me—not because I wasn’t accustomed to violence but because this felt different.
Personal. Primal.
“I’m going to kill him,” I said quietly, the words a simple statement of fact rather than a threat.
Isabella’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“Moretti. I’m going to kill him.” I held her gaze steadily. “Not because you need me to. Not because you can’t handle him yourself. But because he deserves it, and because I need to do it.”
For a long moment, she just looked at me, searching my face for something. Then, surprisingly, she smiled. A small, sad smile but genuine.
“I thought you might say that,” she said softly.
“Does it bother you?” I needed to know.
She considered the question, her head tilting slightly. “That you want to kill the man who molested me and my sister when we were little? No. That you assume I need you to do it? A little.”
“It’s not about need,” I clarified. “I know you’re perfectly capable of handling him yourself. This is about…choice.” I struggled to articulate the feeling. “I’m choosing to stand with you. To face this with you. If you’d rather handle him yourself, I’ll respect that.”
Her expression softened. “Thank you for that.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “But I don’t think I’d mind some company when I face him.”
“You have it. My company, my protection, my love. Always.” The word felt significant as it left my mouth. Always—a concept I’d never allowed myself to consider before Isabella.
The bath water had begun to cool, but neither of us moved. There was something sacred about this space we’d created, this bubble of truth and vulnerability.
“Did you ever think,” Isabella said after a while, “you’d say ‘I love you’ to anyone?”
I shook my head.
“Ditto.” The sound of her laughter eased something tight in my chest. After everything she’d been through—Moretti, Grey, the kidnapping—she could still laugh. Her resilience was extraordinary.
“You saved me,” I said suddenly, needing her to understand the full magnitude of what she’d done. “Not just from the fighting ring. You saved me from becoming what Grey wanted me to be. A mindless weapon. A monster with no connections, no feelings.”
Isabella moved through the water toward me, closing the distance between us. She stopped just shy of touching me, her eyes holding mine.
“You were never a monster, Ivan,” she said softly. “Even in that ring, fighting for your life, you protected the youngerchildren—that wasn’t a monster. That was a survivor. A protector.”
Her words penetrated defenses I hadn’t even realized I still maintained. The distinction she made was one I’d struggled with for years. How much violence could a person enact before becoming the very thing they were fighting against?
“Some days, I’m not so sure,” I admitted, the confession barely audible over the sound of the storm outside.
Isabella reached out, her fingers gently tracing the scar that ran from my clavicle to my shoulder. “I am.” Her touch was feather-light, reverent. “I’ve seen enough monsters up close. You’re nothing like them.”
I caught her hand, pressing it more firmly against my cheek. The warmth of her palm grounded me, pulled me back from the darkness of old memories.
“I wish I could have protected you,” I said, the words raw with honesty. “From Moretti. From all of it.”
“And I wish I could have done more than just report what I saw,” she countered. “We can’t change the past. But we’re here now.”
Here now. The simplicity of the statement belied its profound truth.
I shifted closer to her in the bath, the water rippling between us. Without thinking, I reached out, cradling her face between my hands. Her skin was soft beneath my calloused fingers, her eyes wide and trusting despite everything she knew about me, everything we’d just shared.
“Isabella Salvini,” I said softly, “you are the bravest, most incredible woman I have ever known, and I love you.”
