I nod.
He reaches for the handle and I prepare myself for what I'm going to see, for whatever condition she's in, for blood or bruises or worse.
The door opens.
Isabella is on the floor against the far wall, her hands still zip-tied, her face bruised just like in the photo, and when she sees us, her eyes go wide.
"Enzo," she breathes.
The sound of my name from her mouth breaks something open in my chest.
I'm moving before I think, crossing the cell, dropping to my knees in front of her, my hands already reaching for the zip ties.
"I've got you," I say, and my voice is shaking now that I can see her, now that she's real and alive in front of me. "I've got you, Isabella. You're safe."
"You came," she says, and tears are running down her face. "You actually came."
"Of course I came." I cut through the zip ties with my knife. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I didn't know if you—if Matteo would—" She can't finish because she's crying too hard.
I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, careful of injuries I can't see yet, and she's shaking against me, her face pressed into my neck.
"Where's Vittorio?" Matteo asks from the doorway.
Isabella pulls back slightly and points to the corner.
Vittorio is slumped against the wall, his hands also restrained, blood on his face, conscious but barely.
"Get him up," Matteo orders, and Dante moves to cut Vittorio's restraints.
"Can you walk?" I ask Isabella quietly.
"Yes. I think so. They didn't—" She stops. "I'm okay. Just bruised."
"We need to move," Matteo says. "Now. Before?—"
The sound of gunfire erupts above us.
Loud and close and sustained, the distinctive crack of automatic weapons, and all of us freeze for a split second.
"They know we're here," Rafael's voice comes through the radio. "O'Rourke's men are mobilizing. We've got contact on the main floor. Heavy resistance."
"Copy that," Matteo says into his radio. "We're coming up with the packages. Clear us a path to the loading dock."
"Working on it."
More gunfire. Closer now. The sound of it echoing down the stairwell.
"Stay behind me," I tell Isabella, helping her to her feet. "Don't let go of my vest. Whatever happens, you stay right behind me."
She nods and grabs hold of the back of my tactical vest with both hands.
Vittorio is on his feet now, supported by Dante, looking unsteady but functional.
"Let's move," Matteo says.
We head for the corridor and the gunfire intensifies above us, and I can hear shouting now, orders being given, the chaos of a full engagement.
