She remained silent…for now. Because if I learned one thing, it was that none of the Salvini siblings were who I thought they were, and if I’d learned one thing from our little interaction right now, it was that this Salvini twin was a fighter.
“Are you Isabella or Mirabella?” I asked.
She stared up into my eyes, but her eyes were slightly glazed over, and she didn’t focus completely. Shit. Maybe that head wound was worse than I’d thought.
“Mira—” she said, then her head rolled back, and her body slackened in my arms.
Double shit.
6
ISABELLA
Ijolted awake to the sensation of being lifted—strong arms cradling me against a solid chest. My head throbbed where the fence had sliced it open. And my whole body felt as if I’d taken a beating.
I kept my eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness, while I tried to make sense of my surroundings and what was happening.
I was pretty sure the one carrying me was Ivan Zotov. His scent, his muscular chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing against my ear were strangely calming and already too familiar.
His movements were careful, deliberate—like he was handling something fragile. The bastard.
Cool air brushed my face, then he shifted me in his arms. The distinct sound of a car door opening clued me in on what was coming next.
He lowered me onto a leather seat with surprising gentleness, his hands positioning my head with clinical precision. The click of the seatbelt followed, the strap pressing uncomfortably against my shoulder. Did I hurt my shoulder, as well?
And how long had I been out? The last thing I remembered was being buried under him while he examined my temple wound, and I refused to play nice—wait, no, he was dragging me to the helicopter, and then, what happened after that? Did he ditch the helicopter?
Ivan slid into the driver’s seat beside me, then positioned my head against the door.
This wasn’t right. Fuck, just how long had I been out? And where the hell were we? And where was he taking me?
When the car started moving, I cracked my eyes open just enough to see through my lashes. Beyond the windshield stretched an open meadow bathed in evening light, surrounded by dense forest. No buildings, no compound, no other vehicles. Just wilderness stretching as far as I could see.
What the hell?
Ivan shifted beside me, the leather seat creaking as he softly touched me with his elbow while reaching for something.
“Grey,” he answered, his voice low and controlled. So it was his phone, he’d been reaching for.
I kept my breathing steady, my eyes closed—perfect opportunity to gather intel if I played unconscious convincingly enough.
Now the question was, who was Grey? And how would I get to Zotov’s phone to call 911?
“Yes, I’m aware.” A pause. “Salvini senior is dead.”
My stomach dropped. Father was dead? A confusing wave of emotions crashed through me—grief tangling with something that felt disturbingly like relief. I fought to keep my breathing even, to not give myself away with a sudden intake of breath or a change in my heartbeat.
The man who’d controlled every aspect of my life since birth was gone. The man who’d never shown me genuine affection, who’d looked at me with cold calculation rather than fatherly love. The man who’d once looked me and Mira over when we were at the pool in bikinis and instead of saying something nice, had simply nodded and said, “Useful.” Not proud, not lovely, not pretty. Just…useful.
Still, he was my father. My blood. And now he was gone.
“This entire operation was a clusterfuck from the beginning,” Ivan continued, his voice hardening. “I told you that grabbing the bride and the sisters was a strategic error. We should’ve used something else as leverage.”
I strained to hear every word, fighting the urge to tense my muscles.
“No. This mission was stupid, dangerous, and put everyone and the syndicate at unnecessary risk.” His voice had dropped to a dangerous rumble. “Your men couldn’t even secure four women properly. What kind of incompetent team did you hire?”
The venom in his tone surprised me. He sounded genuinely angry about the kidnapping—our kidnapping.Was this an act for Grey on the other end of the line, or did he actually oppose what had been done to us?
