I stepped closer, invading his personal space. “And I suppose the needle marks on her neck are from what? A mosquito?”
The guard’s eyes widened slightly. Behind me, I heard Vince’s sharp intake of breath.
“Those are… I don’t know about any?—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” I cut him off. “I know exactly what Grey did. Truth serum, combined with something else.” I studied Isabella’s glazed expression and her lack of muscle tone. “A muscle relaxant?”
The guards exchanged nervous glances, then shrugged. So they didn’t know or pretended not to know.
But I knew the usual MO.
I just hoped Grey hadn’t used her as a test subject for one of the Paraskia’s more experimental compounds—drugs that weren’t approved for use, which could have dangerous side effects. Drugs that could kill if administered incorrectly.
Vince stepped forward, his face a mask of barely contained fury. “Give her to me,” he ordered, reaching for his sister. “Now.”
Something primitive and possessive surged through me. Before I could analyze my reaction, I blocked his access to Isabella.
“She’s coming with me,” I stated, my voice deadly calm as I reached for her.
The guards hesitated, clearly caught between escalating danger. “Sir, Mr. Grey gave explicit orders?—”
“Grey lost the right to give orders concerning her,” I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Tell him if he has a problem with that, he can come see me personally.”
I lifted Isabella from their grip and cradled her against my chest. Her body felt smaller than I remembered, more fragile. She nestled against me instinctively, her head finding my chest as if she’d done it a thousand times before. The surge of possessiveness was unexpected. And the tenderness that followed even more so.
But something broke loose inside me then—a protective fury unlike anything I’d ever experienced. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I would burn down the entire organization for her if necessary. This wasn’t aboutduty or loyalty or professional obligations. This was about her.
About me keeping her safe.
Which I failed at completely.
Vince stepped forward again, his expression thunderous. “Zotov, that’s my sister. Hand her over. Now.”
I met his gaze, not backing down an inch. He might’ve been family, and he might’ve been able to protect her. But I couldn’t…wouldn’t let her go. She was mine. My expression must have revealed some of the deadly intent I felt because everyone except Vince took an instinctive step back.
“I respect that you’re her brother,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “I respect who you are and your integrity, especially regarding your family. But if you get in my way, I will kill you.”
The words hung in the air between us, a declaration of intent that surprised even me with its ferocity. But I meant every syllable.
Vince studied me for a long moment, something shifting in his gaze as he probably realized I meant every single word. He didn’t back down—men like Vince Salvini never did—but he nodded once, a gesture of temporary truce.
I turned and carried Shorty away from Grey’s men, away from the villa, toward our private quarters. Vince and Cristo followed right on my heels, their presence a constant reminder of the complicated consequences still to come. But right now, my focus was entirely on the woman in my arms.
How did I fail her so miserably?
She stirred against my chest, her fingers curling weakly into the fabric of my shirt. “Ivan?” Her voice was barely a whisper, confusion evident in the single word.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, tightening my hold on her. “You’re safe now.”
We came across some security personnel who stared at me. I ignored them all, my stride purposeful as I headed for our building. “Anton,” I called over my shoulder, knowing he would be following. “Bring all the guests. Secure our quarters. No one enters but us.”
He moved ahead to open the gate to our private area and made the call to follow my request without question. My siblings’ loyalty was one of the few constants I could rely on in this increasingly complicated situation.
“She’s been drugged,” Anton observed as we passed him. “You think he overdosed her?”
“Maybe,” I replied, gritting my teeth. “Or he mixed shit. Or she might have had a bad reaction. We need to monitor her closely.”
Anton’s expression darkened. “Shit, Ivan. If Grey used one of the new drugs?—”
