Enzo’s POVThe silence that descends after the conflict is deafening, the kind that suffocates. Every breath burns, every muscle rebels, but I force myself to stay upright. Blood flows from a wound I can’t afford to recognize. Not yet. Isabella stands beside me, her eyes scouring the room for threats, her body stiff and ready to spring. The thrill hasn’t gone off, and neither has the risk.“Isabella,” I say, my voice scratchy. “Are you okay?”She nods, but her eyes don’t contact mine. “I’m fine,” she lies. I don’t push it. We both know what fine really means in our environment.The bodies surrounding us are a sad reminder of what we’ve done—and what we still have to accomplish. I glance at Adrian’s still figure, a bitter taste rising in my throat. His betrayal runs deep, piercing through years of history and trust. I want to feel relieved that it’s finished, that he can’t hurt us anymore. But all I feel is the weight of another adversary defeated, and the many more waiting in the wing
Isabella's POVThe chamber is saturated with the aroma of gunpowder and sweat, the air crackling with tension. We’re crouched behind what remains of the toppled table, using it as a makeshift shield. Bullets continue to tear through the air, splintering wood and smashing glass. My heart pounds in my chest, every beat a reminder that we’re teetering on the edge.“On my count,” Enzo murmurs, his voice low and powerful. “We move.”I nod, the weight of the moment pushing down on me. I can see the tiredness in his eyes, the lines carved deep into his face. But there’s also determination—a fire that refuses to be quenched. It mirrors my own.“Three… two… one… go!”We move as one, breaking from cover and firing back at our attackers. The world narrows to a blur of motion—dodging, weaving, every stride a fight to stay alive. The shadows around us seem to come alive, closing in like animals scenting blood.“Isabella, left!” Vincent’s shout cuts through the tumult, and I turn just in time to se
Enzo’s POVThe blood on my hands is warm, too warm. It’s Isabella's blood, and no matter how strongly I push down, it won’t stop. I feel like I’m drowning. Every breath I take is a battle, every heartbeat a reminder of what I stand to lose.“Stay with me,” I plead, my voice raspy and urgent. “Don’t you dare leave me.”Her eyes flutter open, the light in them dim. “Enzo,” she says, hardly a murmur. “I’m… trying.”“Try harder,” I snap, my hands quivering. “You don’t get to quit. Not now.”I can’t lose her. Not like this. The struggle still rages around us, but it feels distant, inconsequential. All that matters is her—keeping her alive. I grit my teeth and look up, scouring the crowd for Vincent. He’s there, his movements a blur as he fights off the last attackers. We’re losing ground. Fast.“Vincent!” I shout, the word tearing from my throat. “We need to get out of here!”He doesn’t hesitate. A fast strike takes down his opponent, and he’s by my side in seconds. His eyes flick to Isabe
Isabella's POV Twenty-two was the night I first met Enzo De Luca; hardly old enough to understand the actual weight of the planet I had been born into. He was only a figure murmured in dark corners, his name passed about like a secret, tinged with dread and longing; he was not meant to be in my life. But my life changed permanently when I saw him—that is, really saw him.And much of what scared me was not him. That was the side of me longing for him.I had come upon him in the most unusual manner. Though there were sections of the home I had been advised to avoid, my father's estate was constantly alive with murmurs of mafia business and violent dealings. I need to have paid attention.But that evening, my curiosity won out. Cigars and costly whiskey hung on the walls, and muted laughing floated over the vast hallways. It was late, far later than I ought to have been prowling about. But something had attracted me to the guest wing I never explored at the rear of the home.I heard it
Isabella's POV I used to think of myself as sturdy. Under the weight of my father's business, I had learnt how to keep my head down and avoid difficulty. Nothing could have, nevertheless, suited me for this. FOR he is.Looking at the woman I scarcely knew from the front to rear mirror, The white silk dress hugged me, beautiful lace hanging down my arms. For a Mafia man, the perfect woman is I could not let this lose its irony. No love story like this exists. In a business deal, I was the commodity.My father, Don Carlo Rossi, had seen that I comprehended it.He had stated, just a few days before, "Isabella, you're doing this for the family." His comments had been subdued, as though he were suggesting that I set the table instead than wed a man I had never even met.And now here I was, staring at my reflection trying to calm the panic wriggling at my chest. I drew deeply and pushed myself to be cool and endure tonight. There was no escape path. Not from my end. Not as much now.There
Isabella's POV Not one night since the wedding. Luca Vitale's warning kept repeating in my head, his haughty attitude as he all but assured me that I was next on his kill list. Every time I considered what he said, my heart accelerated. I was caught in a marriage I felt like a perilous game for which I lacked the skills.Still, here I was.I fixed my gaze on my image in the large mirror mounted on the Enzo penthouse room wall. My skin pallid against the silky cloth of my nightgown, dark circles ringed my eyelids. I seemed delicate, as if I may break with one touch. I afford to be delicate, though. not here. Not at the moment.Days had gone since Luca's threat, and the air's tension had only gotten more intense. Enzo and his guys had been busy; the penthouse became an improvised war room, tactics murmured over maps and records I was not allowed to view.Not yet, but I did not live in that world. Deep down, though, I knew it was just a matter of time until it sucked me in totally.My
Isabella's POV The automobile jolted me into the door with a strong swerve, and the tires screamed under us. As I grabbed the seatbelt across my torso and braced myself, my heart beat in my chest and adrenaline surged through me. The headlights behind us burned more brilliantly, following us over the little, dark alleyways like animals closing in on their prey."Enzo, what's going on?" Though I battled to keep the terror from seeping into my voice, it came out wobbly and terrified.Enzo responded slowly, his attention fixed on the road front. I feared his tightly closed mouth may break. He swirled fiercely around another turn, the vehicle straying under the weight of the speed. The weight of all that had been left unsaid between us was palpably filling the automobile."They have located us," he murmured at last, his voice low and tinged with controlled fury. Vitale's men.I pushed hard, my pulse pounding. From the phone, Luca's voice mocking and arrogant reverberated in my brain remi
Enzo’s POV At least, I told myself over the years that my shoulders never actually carried the weight of the world. Strength came easily; control seemed like an old friend I could depend on when all else failed. Still, it was unique in another respect. Something that crept under my notice and bothered me.Sitting on the brink of my king-sized apartment's bed, I watched the whiskey glass in my palm spin with the smallest of finger gestures. Though all I could see in the city below was Isabella's face, the jumble of lights and shadows. My man. My beautiful yet quiet, rebellious wife is shy.I reasoned she would behave like any other woman when I consented to this arrangement. Made sense. Terrorized. Bella showed none of this as a piece in the game of men. She was internally burning, and every time we shared a room, it flashed dangerously. And the flames were starting to make me alive.My phone vibrated on the nightstand, which took me off-target from hers. I looked at the TV. Sofia lef
Enzo’s POVThe blood on my hands is warm, too warm. It’s Isabella's blood, and no matter how strongly I push down, it won’t stop. I feel like I’m drowning. Every breath I take is a battle, every heartbeat a reminder of what I stand to lose.“Stay with me,” I plead, my voice raspy and urgent. “Don’t you dare leave me.”Her eyes flutter open, the light in them dim. “Enzo,” she says, hardly a murmur. “I’m… trying.”“Try harder,” I snap, my hands quivering. “You don’t get to quit. Not now.”I can’t lose her. Not like this. The struggle still rages around us, but it feels distant, inconsequential. All that matters is her—keeping her alive. I grit my teeth and look up, scouring the crowd for Vincent. He’s there, his movements a blur as he fights off the last attackers. We’re losing ground. Fast.“Vincent!” I shout, the word tearing from my throat. “We need to get out of here!”He doesn’t hesitate. A fast strike takes down his opponent, and he’s by my side in seconds. His eyes flick to Isabe
Isabella's POVThe chamber is saturated with the aroma of gunpowder and sweat, the air crackling with tension. We’re crouched behind what remains of the toppled table, using it as a makeshift shield. Bullets continue to tear through the air, splintering wood and smashing glass. My heart pounds in my chest, every beat a reminder that we’re teetering on the edge.“On my count,” Enzo murmurs, his voice low and powerful. “We move.”I nod, the weight of the moment pushing down on me. I can see the tiredness in his eyes, the lines carved deep into his face. But there’s also determination—a fire that refuses to be quenched. It mirrors my own.“Three… two… one… go!”We move as one, breaking from cover and firing back at our attackers. The world narrows to a blur of motion—dodging, weaving, every stride a fight to stay alive. The shadows around us seem to come alive, closing in like animals scenting blood.“Isabella, left!” Vincent’s shout cuts through the tumult, and I turn just in time to se
Enzo’s POVThe silence that descends after the conflict is deafening, the kind that suffocates. Every breath burns, every muscle rebels, but I force myself to stay upright. Blood flows from a wound I can’t afford to recognize. Not yet. Isabella stands beside me, her eyes scouring the room for threats, her body stiff and ready to spring. The thrill hasn’t gone off, and neither has the risk.“Isabella,” I say, my voice scratchy. “Are you okay?”She nods, but her eyes don’t contact mine. “I’m fine,” she lies. I don’t push it. We both know what fine really means in our environment.The bodies surrounding us are a sad reminder of what we’ve done—and what we still have to accomplish. I glance at Adrian’s still figure, a bitter taste rising in my throat. His betrayal runs deep, piercing through years of history and trust. I want to feel relieved that it’s finished, that he can’t hurt us anymore. But all I feel is the weight of another adversary defeated, and the many more waiting in the wing
Isabella's POVThe universe narrows to a pinpoint as the figure walks out of the shadows, their words piercing through the tension like a sword. The face before me is familiar—too familiar. Memories pour over me like a tsunami, smothering and overpowering.“It’s been a long time, Isabella,” they murmur, their lips twisting into a smile that doesn’t reach their eyes. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but… we both know that would be a lie.”“Adrian,” I murmur, my chest constricting. The word tastes like ash on my tongue, a reminder of broken promises and shattered trust.Enzo shifts alongside me, his body rigid despite the sorrow written over his features. “Who the hell is this?” he demands, his voice low and menacing.“An old… acquaintance,” I answer, forcing myself to stay cool. My fingers tighten on my weapon, every muscle in my body begging to act, to move. But Adrian’s eyes are on me, icy and uncompromising, and I know one false move might be disastrous.“Acquaintance?” Adrian echoes,
Isabella's POV Through the gaps in the boarded-off windows, the weak light of dawn spills pale streaks across the room. It's frigid, too frigid, and the quiet weighs down on me. Enzo still is unconscious; his respiration is shallow but consistent. From his perspective, I have not changed. Not able to. I see blood every time I close my eyes and feel the terror wriggling at my chest."Emilia," Vincent's voice breaks through the quiet, low and apprehensive. Arranging his arms over the doorway, he stands there. "You need to relax."Not turning my eyes away from Enzo, I respond, "I cannot." He needs me."He needs you strong," Vincent says, approaching. His face is drawn, weariness carved on every line. You two do.I shake my head, my body not releasing the tightness. "We have no time for leisure. Still out there they are. They will show up for us."They will," he says, his voice dark. "Which is why we have to get ready. We have to be ready for whatever is to come.I know he's right, but t
Isabella's POV With hands soaked with Enzo's blood, the cold air hurts my face as I try to grasp his motionless corpse. Every breath is a breathless gulp; I can hardly see through the tears running down my cheeks. The fight has quieted around me, but the threat hasn't passed. Though fractured and fragmented, the council's influence remains a shadow that won't let go."Enzo," I murmured with a shaking voice. "Stay with me. You assured me.His eyes fly awake, the fire in them muted by suffering. "I... I'm here," he rasps, his voice hardly heard. "You... cannot get rid of me that readily.""Good," I croak out and force a faint grin across my tears. Not ready to let you go, hence.Trying to stop the bleeding, I gently press down on the cut on his chest. It's awful, too bad. I had to pull him out of this place. I'm supposed to—"Emilia," Vincent's voice pierres the mist. He is standing above us, his face pallid and contrived. "We must relocate. Just now."I can't," I say, my despair explo
Enzo's POV The wind carries the smell of decay and past mistakes as it blows through the cracked windows of our temporary refuge. The city beyond is a maze of peril, and every turn points a possible dagger at our rear. I'm not able to afford a diversion. Not at this time. Not when the stakes are greater than they have ever been.Still, the throbbing in my chest won't stop, and every look at Emilia emphasizes: I'm in too deep.She walks silently, her every motion carefully. Covering her cut with fresh bandages, reviewing our weapons, making plans for whatever hell is next. She exudes a fierceness that I both dread in equal measure and respect. I will lose her whether I fail or if I only make one error. And it is a reality I find unacceptable."ENzo." Her speech helps me to straighten out my whirling ideas. She is staring at me, those usually too sensitive eyes always seeing more than I want to expose. Ask whether you are with me.Always, I say, the word escaping before I can stop it.
Isabella's POV The faint buzz of the metropolis beyond mixed with the sound of footfall in the distance serves as a painful reminder that the earth keeps revolving even if our reality is disintegrating. The only thing keeping me anchored to reality is Enzo's arms around me; his body's warmth and his heart's steady beat are a frail assurance we are still alive from. Just barely.Since we left the warehouse, he has not spoken. His breath is shallow but purposeful, his face a mask of concentration. Every stride is intentional. It scares me as I know he is pushing himself beyond the verge of tiredness. Should he fall, neither of us know exactly how we will get back up.We have to stop; my voice breaks from the pressure. "You're going to fall.Not yet, he says, his mouth tightly closed. Here, we are far too exposed.He's accurate. Though the deserted streets are still, I can sense danger hiding just out of sight ready for a moment of frailty. I look about, looking for somewhere that could
Enzo's POV Blood streams under my hands as I press furiously at Emilia's side's cut. Her complexion is excessively pale; every labored breath she takes rattles in her chest like a dagger being twisted. Panic claws in my throat may have choked me. I have seen death many times, looked at it without flinching. But this... I cannot accept her destiny as she disappears.I murmur, raw and shattered, "Stay with me, Emilia." You heard me? You are not going to go. Not yet.Her eyes flap, and she pushes herself to look at me. Though there is suffering there also is resistance. She says, "You... don't... get rid of me... that easily," her voice a whisper cutting through the tumult surrounding us.Breathing shakily, I hung on her words. That's correct. You're quite obstinate.Steps pound close by, and I will force myself to pay attention. The struggle is still under way. Not exactly by a long shot. I look around the warehouse; tired eyesight blurs. Few steps away, Vincent is engaged in a violent