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I say nothing.

“Everyone always saw Clara when they looked at me.” Isabella's smile fades. “Until you.”

I hold her gaze. “You tried to kill my daughter.”

Isabella lifts her chin, her grip tightening on the gun. “I tried to reclaim my granddaughter.”

“My daughter is not yours,” I say, each word precise.

Anger twists Isabella's features. “You stole her from us.” Her voice rises. “Clara belonged with family.”

“Clara chose her family,” I reply, taking another careful step forward.

“She chose you,” Isabella hisses, raising the gun higher. Grief and fury war across her face. “And look where that choice left her.”

Pain slices through me. “She died because of men like Enzo.”

“No!” Isabella growls. “She died because she loved you.”

Movement near the entrance pulls my attention away. Enzo has entered the warehouse.

Idiot.

“It's over, Isabella,” Enzo says, his voice shaking. “Roman has every exit covered.”

Isabella slowly turns toward him. The smile curving her mouth is terrifying. “You betrayed me.”

Enzo pales. “You were going to kill me.”

“I was always going to kill you.”

The gun fires. Enzo rocks backward as blood blossoms across his chest. He stares at Isabella in stunned disbelief before collapsing to the concrete.

Then Isabella swings the weapon back toward me. “Now,” she says, “we finish what Clara started.”

Roman's men burst through the side entrances. Gunfire erupts.

One of Isabella's remaining guards swings his weapon toward me. I fire first. He slams backward into a rusted conveyor belt and crumples to the floor. The second man pivots toward the entrance where Roman and three soldiers advance in formation, weapons raised.

He never gets the chance to fire. Luka shoots him twice.

Silence settles over the warehouse once more. Only Isabella remains.

She stands twenty feet away, chest rising unevenly, pearls gleaming beneath shafts of dusty sunlight pouring through the cracked skylights overhead. Hatred burns in her eyes, and her hand remains steady as she points the pistol directly at my chest.

Roman steps into my peripheral vision, his expression grim. “It's over, Isabella.”

She lets out a hollow laugh. The sound echoes through the cavernous building.

“You think this is over?” she asks, shaking her head. “My daughter is dead.”

Roman's gaze turns glacial. “You came after my family.”

“I lost my child,” Isabella hisses, fury flashing across her face.

“You lost her years before she died,” he says.

Isabella's gaze snaps toward me. “Because of him.”