Damon I felt exhausted. Watching Isabella have a panic attack had taken too much from me mentally. The question, however, was whether or not I would find Pablo for her. I wasn't interested in wasting resources, neither did I want to have her devastated, but I wouldn't tell her. It looked like I had come to a decision. Isabella had swayed me yet again in a direction I didn't want to go. That woman was dangerous. She didn't know it, but the power she held over me was strong. "Alessandro," I called him from the top of the stairs. "Yes, sir," he said once he came into view. "Put a hit on Pablo. Looks like we're going to have to find him after all." Alessandro looked confused. I didn't blame him, after all, I had told him not so long earlier that we wouldn't be finding Pablo. Besides, it was late. Nighttime was the time the mafia in Rome wanted to play. It wasn't a time that I was fond of working. I knew there would be too many restrictions on movement. "We will move in 10 minutes
Damon"Who put you up to this?" I asked. "Don't come any closer!" the man yelled in response. I was beginning to get sick of these Sicilian rubble. They didn't understand how to answer questions; otherwise, this would have been a walk in the park."Who put you up to this?" I asked again as I took a step forward, daring him. The man made a funny sound as sweat trickled down his face."You aren't going to kill him. You were most likely instructed to keep him alive for the next couple of days. So tell me, who put you up to this?" I asked him again, feeling my patience wearing thin. The man said nothing. I put my hand into my jacket and pulled out my pair of guns, ready to waste him."I got a call," the man said as his hands suddenly shot up. The knife clacked on the floor, accompanied by the whimpers of the man who was held captive. The boss shook as his hands were in the air."Please don't kill me," he said. "They called me from Rome. They said I should capture a man called Pablo. That'
Damon The suite was an aftermath of a war zone. The door had been broken down and was hanging off the hinges. The expensive furniture inside the living area had been upturned and used as a makeshift barricade. Behind the largest couch were a few droplets of blood. Corpses littered the floor and the walls bore bullet holes and bloodstains. On the stairs lay another pile of bodies, one hanging off the railings, looking like it would fall with a slight nudge. Behind me, I could hear my men turning the bodies around to see if they recognized any. More bodies littered the hallway to the suite. The pristine white marble and walls were stained with drips and puddles of blood, while bullet holes decorated the walls at strange and abrupt places. The chandelier that once beautified the hallway lay shattered on the floor. I stood at the end of the hallway, staring out at the stained glass into the street below. I knew I wouldn't find Isabella in her room, but my hand twitched desperately to o
Damon "What about her friend?" I asked. "She's in surgery," the man responded. "Leave us," I said, dismissing them all. I pulled the stool beside her bed closer and sat. She looked different. Her skin was somehow paler than normal, making her look overly lifeless. Her mouth was open as a result of the tube that was shoved into her throat. Was it that bad? I questioned myself. Was my absence really that bad? Did it warrant an attack on her? The hotel was supposed to be safe?! Questions like that swirled in my mind until the familiar soft vibration on my phone happened in my pocket. It was Frank. I couldn't hear a word he said, and I didn't know whether it was because I had still not quite accepted the situation or the fact that I simply hated the smell of hospitals, and I hated the fact that Isabella was in one. Frank said something again, and then another. "Call me back," I said and then hung up. Hopefully, Frank shouldn't be so angry, but he wasn't my focus. My hand caugh
Damon Finally, when the last bullet casing hit the ground, the only sound was the steady thumping of the beat. It served as a driving force, matching my steps as I made my way up the stairs to the second floor of the club. A hallway greeted me, its lights flashing from blue to green to purple, hurting my eyes. Doors were placed at regular intervals, most likely leading to private rooms that one would pay a fortune for. I could sense the people inside, their fear evident on their young faces. One by one, I opened each door, but none of them led to the room I was looking for. I continued until I reached the last one at the end of the hall. Without much warning, I kicked open the door. The sight was different from the others. Instead of the red light, the room was brightly lit with a normal white one. It was decadent and gilded with gold, from the floor to the ceiling. Seated behind the desk was a man about my age. He looked surprised, making me think that the room was soundproof.
Isabella 5 hours before: I was nursing a broken heart and a sore shoulder. The shoulder wasn't as painful, but the heart felt like it had split me down the middle and threatened to pull me in different directions. I knew Damon was ruthless, but I didn't think he would extend that ruthlessness to me. I was still staring at the door after he walked out, hoping that he would come back and tell me he would go and find Pablo. From what he told me, Pablo didn't deserve to be saved and might have been the architect of his own misfortune, but he was the man who cared for me, and I would not repay his strange acts of kindness with complete desertion. Or, I would wait. Perhaps if Damon came back later, I would ask him again. Still, the look he gave me when he left was scary. It reminded me of the look I saw when he saved me the first time. His eyes craved blood in some way, even though the urge wasn't as strong, I could see it. I lay on my bed and pressed my head against the pillow, choos
Isabella In my mind, I woke up in my old room. Not the one I had in Rome, but the one on Aalia. High ceilings and the chandelier greeted me. The lovely scent of jasmine and lavender lingered through the room, as was the air freshener I liked to use when I was younger. I looked down to see myself in the nightgown that I loved to wear when I was 14. I refused to let Mama throw it away because I loved the baby blue color so much, so I requested that my comforter be in the same color and fabric. My papa got it for me one random day when I was 14, and I had been wearing it since then. I looked up to find Cassandra sitting across the room. Her legs were folded across her lap. It wasn't the 18-year-old Cassandra I knew; this one was older. Her dyed blonde hair was cut short into a pixie style. Her eyes were wide brown and were lined with so much eyeliner she looked like she was cosplaying an Egyptian outfit. On her cheeks was a light dusting of blush that I bet she was hoping to make h
Isabella Damon placed a soft kiss on my lips and then on my forehead again before speaking into my ear. "Go back to sleep. I'm here," he said, and like the trickster he was, his voice lured me back into sleep like a lullaby. By the time I opened my eyes, it was bright outside, and Damon was still inside the room. He was seated on the couch that was placed beside a door that I figured led to the bathroom. Most importantly, my throat felt as though it was made of sandpaper, and my tongue was so dry I thought I was in a desert. I looked beside me to the dresser table and saw a jug of water with a glass beside it. Just as I was reaching for the glass, I felt a hand on mine, lowering it. It was warm, comforting, and large as it enveloped mine gently. Suddenly, I was exhausted by the little activity that I had performed. I was momentarily startled by the sudden movement of the bed. The half of it that my torso was on suddenly started moving upwards until I was in a near sitting positi