Isabella
Something was wrong. She felt it before anyone said a word to her. She knew before the door opened and before the guard shifted outside the bedroom. Isabella knew even before the air in Luca’s house changed in that subtle, dangerous way it always did right before something went sideways. Isabella stood at the window, staring out at the city as though she were waiting for something. Her chest was tight, like something was closing in, and she didn’t know why—yet.
A knock sounded on the door behind her, and she didn’t bother to turn around. “Come in,” she said. The door opened, and she noticed that the footsteps were heavier than Luca’s. She turned, slowly, bracing herself when she saw Dante standing in the doorway.
“What is it?” she asked. Dante didn’t answer right away. And that made her stomach drop. “Just say it,” she insisted.
His jaw tightened. “Boss wants you downstairs,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Did he say why?” she asked.
“Um, no,” Dante said, “he just told me to come get you and that you’d be up here getting ready for the day.” He was lying, and she wasn’t in the mood to play games.
“Dante,” she breathed, her voice cut sharper this time. “What happened?” she demanded.
Dante exhaled slowly. “Your father’s awake.” Relief hit her first—hard and fast. He was alive and awake; that had to be good news, right?
“Where is he?” she asked quickly, already moving around the room gathering her things.
“He’s in a secure location,” Dante said. He was only giving her partial answers, and that wasn’t good enough.
“I want to see him,” she insisted. Dante didn’t move, and the way that he looked at her was almost comical. He didn’t agree to let her see her father, and she knew that if she wanted permission, she’d have to go through Luca.
Her steps slowed and then stopped when she realized that he was holding back information. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He was avoiding looking her in the eye, and that made her pulse start to pound. “Dante.” He finally met her eyes, and that’s when she knew. Whatever this was—it was bad.
“Boss will explain everything,” he said. No—that wasn’t happening, not this time. She wanted answers, and she wanted to see her father. If she went down to Luca’s office, he’d tell her more lies and deny her permission to go see him.
“I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what’s going on,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet in place.
“He’s not clean.” The words didn’t make sense at first—not fully.
“Meaning what?” she asked.
Dante’s expression hardened. “Meaning this wasn’t just Serge.”
Everything inside her went still. “No.” The word came out instantly, as though denying everything that Dante wasn’t telling her. Her father couldn’t have been involved with her attemptedkidnapping, could he? She worried that might be the case, but if he was helping the Russians to get to her, why would they hurt her father? He practically had one foot in the grave when Luca and Dante found him with the Russians.
“That’s not possible,” she insisted. Dante didn’t argue, and he didn’t push her, because the silence did it for him. Her head shook slowly. “No. My father wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do that.”
“Isabella—” Dante started.
“No,” she snapped, backing up a step. “No, you’re wrong.” Her chest felt tight, as though she couldn’t take a deep breath. Panic consumed her, and she looked around the room as though searching for a way out. She couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think.
“He made a deal,” Dante said. Her entire world felt as though it had shattered.
“What kind of deal?” she whispered.
Dante didn’t soften it for her. He didn’t dress it up into a pretty package for her, and this time, he didn’t lie. “The Russians wanted leverage.” Her stomach dropped because she understood the kind of leverage the Russians used against people to make them cooperate. “They wanted you,” he breathed.
Her heart stopped as her world tilted off kilter. “That’s not?—”
“He gave you to them,” Dante continued. The words hit like a bullet to her gut.
“No,” she breathed. That word came out broken and barely there. “That’s not true.” Dante’s silence was louder than anything else he could’ve said. Her legs felt weak and unsteady, like the ground beneath her wasn’t real anymore. “My father wouldn’t—” she whispered.
But now, there was doubt, because things didn’t add up. The warehouse, the timing of the leak, and Serge. Her father disappearing, along with everything Luca had said, andeverything she refused to believe. It all started to line up, piece by piece, and it was becoming a perfectly horrible picture.
