In the distance, the sound of a door crashing open has the two brothers snapping their heads. Bella doesn’t seem to notice or care. She’s too busy staring me down.
Rico throws my duffle bag at me, somehow getting into my locker while everything else was turning to shit. “Cash is in there.”
“Leave before more shit hits the fan,” Damien growls, already walking away with Rico.
I curse under my breath and reach for Bella’s elbow, but she yanks herself out of my reach. “I know where the car is.” With that, she spins on her heel and starts running, leaving me behind in the darkness. I follow behind her, fumbling with the bag to get her inhaler as the sound of her ragged breaths fills the night air.
If she thinks she can run away from me, she’s wrong.
If she thinks that one word will make me leave, she’s fooling herself.
I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it.
Chapter 29
ISABELLA
1) The romance authors lied. Real-life mobsters are scary, ugly, the bad kind of dangerous, and shouldnotbe romanticized.
2) I am beyond sick of getting kidnapped and all the emotional and physical bruising that comes with it.
3) Fuck Roman Riviera.
Irealizethere’ssomethingoff-kilter about my current state of mind, but I think it’s highly justified.
My face hurts. My throat is raw. My lungs burn. My ribs are probably an unnatural shade of purple.
In the span of three days, Roman-fucking-Riviera almost got me killedtwice. No guns were involved this time, but the prospect of all the horrifying things the cartel could have done to me is far more terrifying than getting my brains blown out.
And it’s all Roman’s fault.
Sure, I’ll take part of the blame. Yes, I should have had Damien accompany me. Yes, maybe I would have heard the man come in if I didn't drink so much. Yes, I should haveinsistednot to come. But I’m not the catalyst for all this.
Maybe I should be distraught about thoughts of what ifs. Like, what if Roman didn’t save me? What if Vargas sent more than one man? But I can’t bring myself to truly feel the anxieties regarding thewhat ifsbecause what’s done is done, and tomorrow is another day where Vargas and his men still live.
“Riviera killed two of our men. And now, he gives us a pretty, breakable gift,” the man said.
Me.
The Vargas Cartel put a gun to my head two days ago because of Roman. And tonight, the Vargas Cartel almost took everything away from mebecause of Roman.
I even talked to him last night about the Vargas Cartel, and hestillbrought me to the arena.
Maybe I deserve all this for being a bystander in countless deaths and beatings. It could be the universe’s way of getting retribution for all the depravity I’ve inadvertently participated in. So maybe I’m not mad at Roman that it happened, but I’mpissedthat he could have prevented it, and hedidn’t.
After every trauma, I’ve experienced a different reaction. When I found Marcus and Greg, I was shocked about what I saw, but angry that Roman was back. Then, at the Horror House, I was scared and sad, and I only became angry when he started talking. Now? Sure, I’m shocked. Any person would be. But that’s not the emotion pumping through my veins right now. What will I feel the next time Roman puts me in danger? Acceptance?
I’m done. I’m not letting myself get to a point where I’ll feel nothing when a gun is aimed at my head. I can still recall theclickof the safety, but in my messed-up reality, my brain has already decided that the sound is something to expect in my everyday life. I always thought Roman’s recklessness would get him killed, but I was wrong; it’ll getmekilled.
“Bella, talk to me.”
By my count, this is the third time he’s said those four words in the past five minutes.
He also rotates between a couple of other sentences.
I’m so sorry, Bella.
This is the last time, Bella. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.
