Chapter Fourteen.

Isabella.

I could still hear the hum of engines as Matteo’s car pulled into the long driveway.

The estate before us was grand, bathed in the golden glow of chandeliers, but the sight that greeted me at the entrance sent a chill down my spine.

Men in tailored suits, exuding an air of danger, mingled among themselves.

Their laughter was low and knowing, their eyes scanning the room like predators choosing their prey.

Matteo took my hand and led me inside, his grip firm. “Stay close,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t wander.”

I nodded, though my eyes couldn’t help but wander across the room. The auction had already begun.

I watched as a young girl, no older than sixteen, was paraded on stage, trembling under the leering gazes of the bidders.

My stomach twisted. This wasn’t just any gathering—it was a market for human lives.

I knew the Mafia world was a cold and brutal one, I mean I have loved in it all my life, but I just didn't expect this level of brutality.

I clenched my fist, these fucking bastards.

A man to our right chuckled as he spotted me. He leaned closer, his lips curling into a smirk. “Matteo, you should let me borrow her for a night,” he drawled.

My breath caught in my throat. Matteo’s entire body went still. Without hesitation, in a blur of motion, he pulled out his gun and shot the man square in the head.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the hall. The room fell silent, save for the ringing in my ears. The body collapsed with a dull thud, blood pooling at my feet. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

Matteo tucked his gun away as if he had merely swatted a fly. “Anyone else?” His voice was calm, but his gaze was razor-sharp. No one spoke. No one moved. The air was thick with tension.

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.”

My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to follow him as he led me down a dark corridor. We passed several doors before stopping at one guarded by two men. Matteo’s men. They nodded and stepped aside, allowing us entry.

Inside, a man sat bound to a chair, his face swollen and bruised. Matteo walked toward him, slow and methodical.

The man looked dead already.

"You fucking bastard!"

Matteo only smirked at him.

“You made a mistake,” Matteo said, his voice dripping with finality. “And now, you pay.”

The man whimpered, but his pleas were cut short by the silencer’s whisper.

The bullet found its mark. Matteo turned to leave as if nothing had happened.

I followed him back through the corridor, my mind racing.

The things I had seen tonight—the things Matteo did without flinching, I am supposed to be scared, but in some twisted way I am not.

Not of Matteo.

He's an assassin, this is what assassin's do, and these bastard's dont deserve to even breathe.

Then, amidst the chaos, I saw him. A teenage boy, no older than seventeen, darting through the crowd. His eyes were wide with terror as men chased after him.

Something about him called me out, I couldn't just watch them get to him.

I grabbed Matteo’s arm. “We have to help him.”

Matteo exhaled sharply. “Isabella—”

“Please,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

He looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “Stay behind me.”