Chapter Ten.

Isabella.

I sat stiffly in the large sitting room, my nails digging into my palm as I replayed Matteo’s words over and over again in my head.

I told myself I wouldn’t let them get to me, but they had.

The sting of his sharp tongue lingered, slicing deeper than any blade could, but I wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt.

I drifted off to sleep, numbing the pain in my heart.

The next morning I freshened up, and went out of my room to find Matteo, I need to speak to him about something.

Thankfully he was in the dining drinking something that looked suspiciously like coffee.

"I want you to train me."

Matteo looked up from his drink, his dark eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “Train you?”

“Yes. In fighting, weaponry—everything.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “No.”

I expected resistance, but I refused to back down. “I need to learn how to protect myself.”

“You have me.”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t want to rely on you, Matteo. I want to be able to stand on my own.”

"And besides with you acting like I don't exist, It's going to be hard relying on you like some damsel in distress."

Matteo set his glass down with a thud, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not happening.”

I crossed my arms. “So you’d rather I be defenseless? You don't have to train me if you don't want to, Luca can train me."

I saw something like anger flicker in his eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it came.

He sighed heavily, looking at me for a long moment. “Fine,” he muttered. "But my men will train you and you'll go by my rules."

A flicker of triumph ignited in my chest, but I masked it. “That works for me.”

I don't really care who trains me, as I as I get trained.

The tension between us was thick, but I refused to acknowledge it.

Instead, I threw myself into training, pushing myself harder than anyone expected.

Day after day, I took the hits, learned the moves, and mastered the weapons Matteo’s men put in my hands.

I was determined to prove myself, get strong and become worthy of my revenge. I tried to deny it, but I also want to prove myself to him.

The days blurred together, a cycle of bruises and exhaustion, but I embraced it.

It was easier for me, because Enzo my trainer was so nice and sweet, Rocco was also very helpful.

It gave me purpose, something to focus on instead of the mess of emotions Matteo stirred in me, the pain of my mother's death, my father, everything.

Enzo didn't go easy on me, but I liked it like that, I don't want them treating me like some breakable damsel.

Every cut, every ache was proof that I was getting stronger.

Despite my progress, things between Matteo and me remained unchanged. If anything, the distance between us grew.

He was colder, more withdrawn, and the rare moments we spoke were filled with tension. I should have been relieved.

I wanted to keep my distance, didn’t I? But there was an ache in my chest I couldn’t ignore.

One night, he returned home later than usual, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.

I was in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of water, when I saw him stagger in. His shirt was torn, and crimson stains marred the fabric near his ribs.

My breath hitched. “You’re hurt.”

Matteo waved me off, moving toward the stairs. “I’m fine.”

I hurried after him. “No, you’re not. Let me help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade.

I froze, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “You’re such a stubborn ass,” I bit out, my patience wearing thin.

Matteo exhaled harshly, his expression a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “I don’t need you fussing over me, Isabella.”

“Well, guess what?” I stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “From now on, I won’t. I’m done trying to help you, done dealing with your cold ass attitude. You can bleed out for all I care.”

I turned on my heel, storming out of the room before he could say another word. My chest heaved as I reached my bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I refused to let him get under my skin anymore.

But just as I tried to calm myself, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the house, followed by a single gunshot.

My blood ran cold.

Something was wrong.

And for all my anger at Matteo, fear gripped me like a vice as I grabbed the nearest weapon and ran toward the chaos.

I sprinted down the hallway, my heart pounding like a war drum. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, mixing with something metallic—blood. My fingers tightened around the knife I’d grabbed, my instincts screaming at me to be ready for anything.

When I turned the corner, my breath caught in my throat. Two of Matteo’s men lay motionless on the marble floor, their bodies riddled with bullets. A third was struggling to breathe, clutching his stomach as blood pooled around him.

“Isabella—” His voice was a whisper, his eyes pleading.

I dropped to my knees beside him. “Who did this?”

He coughed, his body shaking. “Inside… Matteo…” His hand twitched, pointing toward the main office before it went limp.

A chill ran down my spine. I pushed myself up and ran toward the office, my grip tightening on the knife. The heavy wooden door was ajar, a faint light spilling into the dark hallway.

I pressed myself against the wall, listening. Inside, there was movement—a grunt, a chair scraping against the floor. Then, a low voice.

“You should have stayed dead.”

My stomach twisted. I didn’t recognize the voice, but the malice in it was undeniable.

I forced myself to breathe evenly, my fingers trembling as I peered inside.

Matteo was slumped in his chair, blood staining his shirt, his gun clutched weakly in his hand, and standing over him was a man I had never seen before, a silencer pressed against Matteo’s temple.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, to find help, but I knew I didn’t have time. Matteo was hurt, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

I tightened my grip on the knife and stepped forward, my voice clear and unwavering. “Get away from him.”

The man turned, his cold eyes locking onto mine. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.

“Well, well. Look who decided to join the party.”

I swallowed hard, forcing my fear down. If I was going to survive this, if Matteo was going to survive this, I needed to be smart.

I needed to be ruthless.

The man took a step toward me, his gun still aimed at Matteo. “Put the knife down, sweetheart. This doesn’t concern you.”

I took a step closer, my pulse racing. “It does now.”

His eyes darkened. “Brave. Stupid, but brave.”

Before he could react, I lunged.

The world exploded into chaos.