An involuntary, sinister smile crosses my face as I bite my lip, fighting the urge to kill him right here.
“No, you didn’t,” I jeer, staring at him. I can’t believe Grayson had the fucking nerve to call him—to help who? Me?
Isabella clears her throat, obviously trying to cut through the silence and cool things down.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling the anger sizzling in me already.
“Grayson said you need help.”
“Oh, how could I forget?” I sneer, flashing a grin that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Saint Judas himself, here to bless the broken and save the ones no one else will.” I shake my head, the smile stretching wider, more mocking. “What a fucking hero.”
“You haven’t changed at all. Still playing grown-up, I see.”
“Oh, I have. Now I can rip your fucking eyeballs off and jam them down your throat till you choke on your own goddamn pride.”
He folds his hands in front of him. “Still screaming for control like a child swinging a knife.”
Only then do I realize I’m still holding the blade. Suddenly, Isabella steps forward, her delicate fingers brushing against my wrist.
“Forgive me, Father. I didn’t catch your name.”
Judas pauses for a moment, eyes locked on hers.
“Gabriel,” he says quietly. “I’m Father Gabriel.”
“Yeah, right.” I scoff. “Fancy name.”
“I’m Isabella.”
“Nice to meet you, Isabella.”
“I couldn’t help but think what you said before.” She clicks her tongue. “About the knife.”
My brows furrow. What is she up to?
“At least he’s never pretended the blade was clean.”
My eyes widen, pride and surprise hitting all at once.That’s my fucking defiant girl!
Judas smiles too, lips curling just slightly. “Good job there, cousin.” He folds his hands behind his back now, his honey eyesshifting to Isabella. “I suppose you’re the reason he’s the most wanted man in the country. Am I right?”
She snorts.
“What can I say? She brings out the best in me,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“You need a way out of it,” Grayson speaks up.
“Yeah, but I don’t need help,” I say, crossing my arms.
Judas arches a brow and gives Isabella a slow once-over. “She’s a Calvano, huh?”
“I’m standingrighthere,” Isabella snaps.
Of course he knows who she is. He and her fucker of a father are cut from the same sleazy, dick-swinging cloth.
“Her old man doesn’t fuck around,” he adds.
“Wait, wait, wait.” She shakes her head, brows pulling in. “How do you know me?”
