“I know.” I cut him off, not wanting to hear the possibilities spoken aloud. I’d seen the effects of the Paraskia Syndicate’s experimental drug trials firsthand. Some subjects recovered fully. Others experienced lasting neurological damage. A few didn’t survive at all.
The thought of Isabella suffering any of those worse fates made my blood run cold. How did I let this happen? Ishouldn’t have let her out of my sight. Not for a single second. Not when I knew Grey had it out for her.
Because if she didn’t make it…I wouldn’t make it.
The thought reverberated inside my skull on repeat. It hammered home what I’d been trying to deny for days.
My feelings for Isabella Salvini had crossed the line from professional interest—had even crossed the line from personal interest to something far more dangerous. Something that could compromise everything I’d worked for, everything I’d built. Could compromise my very being.
I’d sworn I’d never let myself care for anyone like that. Not even for myself.
I’d sworn I’d never let anyone ever have that kind of power over me.
And now, here I was.
And in this moment, with her vulnerable in my arms, I knew it was all bullshit.
Everything I’d told myself was a complete lie.
I cared. I cared about my siblings. I cared about our future. And more than anything, I cared about Shorty.
Vince and Cristo intercepted me again as we entered our building. “This has gone too far,” Vince said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “We’re leaving, and we’re taking Isabella home. Now.”
I didn’t even slow my pace. “You can follow if you want, but she stays with me until the drugs are neutralized. We know what Grey might’ve given her. You don’t.”
“And why should we trust you?” Cristo demanded, moving to block my path.
I met his gaze steadily. Because she was mine. Because I trusted no one but myself with making sure she was okay. “Because right now, I’m her best chance of surviving whatever Grey put in her system.”
The simple truth of my statement seemed to register with both men. They exchanged glances before stepping aside, allowing me to pass but falling into step behind me.
Isabella stirred in my arms again, her eyelids fluttering. “Ivan?” she murmured, her voice stronger this time.
“I’ve got you, Shorty,” I promised, the nickname slipping out naturally. “No one touches you again. No one.”
The professional distance I’d maintained was shattered completely with those words. They were a vow, a promise I intended to keep regardless of the cost.
I raised my head and locked eyes with Vince.
No one would ever touch her again. Hurt her again. Force her to be anything but herself.
No one but me.
We reached my private quarters, and Anton moved ahead to open the door. The space was Spartan but comfortable—one big room doubling as a living area with a sofa and chairs, and a bedroom. I carried Isabella directly to the bed, laying her down with utmost care.
Her skin felt feverish under my touch as I brushed her hair from her face.
She opened her eyes, struggled to focus on me. “Grey,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the single syllable. “He’s?—”
“Shh,” I soothed, pressing my lips to her forehead in a gesture that felt shockingly intimate but right. “Don’t talk now. Just rest.”
Anton appeared at my side with a medical kit. “I’ve got the standard antidote for the truth serum,” he said, voice low. “But if he gave her some experimental version…”
“We have to try,” I said, already preparing the injection. “Her system can’t process this on its own.”
Anton hesitated, watched me with an unreadable expression. “Are you sure you want to risk it? We don’t know what Grey gave her exactly.”
I paused, the syringe ready in my hand. The antidote could help—or it could make things worse if Grey had modified the formula or given her something else. It was a gamble but one I had to take.
