Chapter 6: Unraveling Truths

The tension in the air was suffocating. Isabella’s pulse hammered in her ears, and her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. Her hands were still clenched around the gun, though she no longer felt its weight—only the suffocating feeling that had settled in her chest.

Raúl’s words echoed in her mind, each one slicing deeper than the last. “He lied to you, Isabella.”

Her father? Lied?

She couldn’t process it—couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. The truth felt like an explosion, like a bomb waiting to tear apart everything she knew.

“About who really pulled the trigger.”

For a split second, everything went still. The room felt as if it was closing in on her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and horror. Her father was the one who had kept her safe from the dangerous world outside, from the truth. But why had he never told her? Why had he shielded her from the truth?

A cold sweat broke out on her skin as memories she’d pushed deep into her subconscious came rushing back.

Her mother’s funeral—the hollow emptiness of that day. Her father’s refusal to let anyone close to her, his eyes always alert, always watching. The nights he stayed up, pacing, muttering in that foreign tongue.

Raúl’s words.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog in her mind. It was all happening so fast. She couldn’t process it all. But one thing was clear—Raúl wasn’t just some threat to her father’s empire. He was part of her own history, a history she never knew.

Raúl’s smug smile grew wider as he saw her confusion. “I know this is a lot to take in, Señorita Romano. But the truth has a way of creeping up on people. Your father couldn’t keep it hidden forever.”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “Enough, Vasquez. We don’t have time for your games.”

Raúl glanced at him dismissively, not even acknowledging the threat. Instead, his gaze returned to Isabella, his eyes burning with an intensity she could barely stand.

“The truth will come for you, whether you’re ready or not,” he said softly. “Your father isn’t here to protect you anymore.”

Isabella took a step back, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Her hand shook as she gripped the gun tighter. She wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but she couldn’t form the words.

Her father. Her protector. Had he betrayed her all along?

She looked to Jason and Alexander for some sort of anchor, something solid in this sea of confusion. But they were as silent as the room around them.

Had they known?

Had they been hiding something from her too?

Jason’s eyes flickered toward Alexander, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, Jason turned back to face her. His gaze softened, though the pain in his eyes was evident. “We’ll explain everything later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave. Not when everything she thought she knew was falling apart.

Raúl’s men were still standing by, their weapons at the ready, but it was clear they were waiting for something. Waiting for Raúl to make the next move.

“Your father did what he had to do, to protect you,” Raúl continued, his voice a dark lullaby that sank deep into her skin. “But it’s time for you to understand that the world isn’t as simple as he made it seem. People like me… we don’t forget. And we don’t forgive.”

Isabella felt a cold chill run down her spine. This wasn’t just a warning. This was a promise.

She could feel her father’s absence now, the weight of it bearing down on her chest. She could almost hear his voice, urging her to stay away, to stay protected. But now—now that world she’d known was crumbling. And the truth? It had teeth.

Jason stepped forward, his injured hand still shaking as he raised his gun. But before he could make a move, Raúl raised his hand, signaling for his men to lower their weapons.

“Let’s not do anything rash,” Raúl said coolly, his gaze flicking to Isabella. “This is just the beginning, Señorita Romano. The beginning of your understanding of your place in this world.”

Isabella’s head was spinning. She wanted to scream, to shout at him to leave her alone, but she couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, everything shifted. A loud crash from the far end of the hallway made her jump. Jason’s reflexes kicked in immediately, spinning toward the sound, his gun raised.

Raúl’s men tensed, but Raúl only chuckled, as though he were in no danger at all.

“That’s just the welcome party,” Raúl said, his grin widening. “Let’s see how they handle it.”

But Isabella wasn’t focused on the crash anymore. Her mind was spinning back to her father’s secret, the conversations she’d overheard as a child, the strange protectiveness he’d always shown.

The warning in his eyes when he told her to stay away from certain people. People like Raúl Vasquez.

Had her father known what kind of man he was dealing with? And if so—why had he kept her so close, so sheltered, if she was always meant to be a part of this world?

Jason was pulling her away now, his grip firm as he moved toward the back door. “We’re leaving, Isabella. Now.”

But the world outside was as dangerous as the one they were running from. And for the first time, Isabella truly understood what her father had been trying to protect her from.

She wasn’t just a daughter anymore. She was part of the legacy—a dangerous one.

And now, she had no choice but to face it.

A Legacy of Lies

Isabella’s pulse thundered in her ears as Jason pulled her through the dimly lit hallway, his grip firm but not rough. Every step felt like walking deeper into a world she had no control over—a world her father had fought to keep her away from.

But now, she was in it. And there was no going back.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of Raúl’s words.

“Your father isn’t here to protect you anymore.”

She felt sick. Not because she was scared—she was beyond fear now. No, it was the realization that everything she had ever believed had been a carefully crafted illusion.

Her father had lied.

She had always known him as a man of power, but not of deception. Yet, the way he had shielded her from Raúl Vasquez all those years ago, the urgency in his voice whenever she got too close to certain conversations, the way his men had whispered in Spanish when they thought she wasn’t listening…

It all made sense now.

Jason stopped abruptly, his body tense as he peered around the corner.

“Clear,” he muttered before continuing toward the exit.

But Isabella had had enough. She wrenched her arm free, stepping back. “No.”

Jason turned, his jaw clenching. “Isabella, this isn’t the time—”

“When is the time, Jason?” Her voice trembled, but not from fear. “When am I supposed to get answers? You and Alexander have been hiding something from me. I heard you talking back at Dante’s house before you knew I was there, and now this? Raúl knew things about my father that I didn’t, and you just expect me to walk away without questioning it?”

Jason’s face darkened, and she knew then—he knew something.

His silence told her everything.

“You’re lying to me too,” she whispered.

Jason’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he said nothing.

Alexander, who had been quiet all this time, finally sighed from where he leaned against the wall, still weak from his injuries. “This isn’t about lying, Isabella. It’s about keeping you alive.”

Her heart twisted. “I didn’t ask to be protected, Alex. I asked for the truth.”

Alexander exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple.”

Isabella’s fists clenched. “It never is with you two, is it?”

A cold chill swept through her. She could barely breathe past the suffocating realization that she didn’t know who to trust anymore.

Her father had lied. Jason and Alexander were lying.

And the worst part?

She had married into this mess.

For the first time since the wedding, she felt a deep, burning hatred for her stepmother.

That woman had forced her into this marriage. Had known exactly what she was doing when she signed Isabella’s life away like a business deal.

She never wanted a daughter. She wanted a pawn.

Isabella felt the rage boil under her skin, her breath coming in sharp bursts. “I regret ever agreeing to this marriage,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “Because now I see what it really was—a way to tie me to a world I never wanted to be a part of.”

Jason’s face hardened. “You think we wanted this for you?”

She scoffed. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Jason. But I do know this—I won’t be controlled. Not by you, not by Alexander, and sure as hell not by my stepmother.”

Before either of them could respond, the door at the end of the hallway slammed open.

Gunfire erupted.

Jason cursed, grabbing Isabella and pulling her down just as bullets whizzed past them, embedding into the walls.

Her ears rang from the sound, but all she could focus on was the chaos.

Alexander, despite his injuries, pulled his own weapon, firing back. Jason gritted his teeth as he lifted his gun, his injured hand trembling from the strain. He bit back a groan of pain but didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

This was her life now.

A battlefield.

A marriage built on secrets.

A past filled with lies.

And a future she didn’t know if she would survive.

The Hidden Mansion

The gunshots had barely stopped ringing in Isabella’s ears when Alexander made the decision.

“We can’t stay here,” he muttered, his voice tight with urgency.

Jason glanced at him, gripping his wounded hand. “You have a plan?”

Alexander didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to Isabella. His gaze was sharper than before—as if something had shifted inside him.

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

There was no room for argument.

Before she could process it, they were on the move.

Jason didn’t follow.

“We’ll regroup later,” Jason said, watching them from the shadows. “I’ll handle things on my end.”

Alexander nodded once, then led Isabella out the back exit.

The Billionaire’s Hidden World

The car ride was tense.

Alexander was driving—fast.

Isabella stole glances at him, at the hardened set of his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the wheel. He wasn’t just running—he was leading her somewhere no one else knew about.

She had thought she knew him.

But tonight had shattered that illusion.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

Alexander didn’t look at her. “Somewhere safe.”

That wasn’t an answer.

She wanted to push, demand more—but something in his posture warned her to wait.

They drove for nearly an hour before reaching an estate tucked so far into the countryside that it barely looked real.

Tall iron gates loomed before them, opening automatically as Alexander approached.

The mansion beyond them was unlike anything she had ever seen—modern, sleek, yet untouched by the outside world.

As the car rolled to a stop, Isabella exhaled.

“You’ve had this place all along,” she murmured, realization settling in.

Alexander finally met her gaze. “You don’t exist, remember?”

It was then she understood.

This wasn’t just a house.

It was his escape. His proof that the world only knew what he allowed it to.

Secrets and Confrontations

Inside, the air was heavy with unspoken words.

Isabella paced the grand living room, running a hand through her hair.

“Why are we really here, Alexander?” she demanded.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders before pouring himself a drink. “Because it’s safer than anywhere else right now.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She turned to face him. “This house—Jason didn’t even know about it. What else are you hiding?”

Alexander met her eyes without hesitation. “A lot.”

The Cost of Secrets

The silence inside the hidden mansion was almost suffocating.

Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the fire flickering in the stone hearth. She was still trying to piece everything together—the attack at Jason’s warehouse, the gunfire, the name Raúl Vasquez resurfacing like a ghost from her past.

But most of all, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Alexander and Jason were hiding something from her.

Her mind was a storm, but Alexander…

He was too calm.

That alone told her there was more to this than what he had said.

A Wound Reopened

Alexander leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured.

She scoffed, turning to face him. “Rest? After what just happened? Don’t insult me, Alexander.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close.

“You’ll need your energy for tomorrow,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

And just like that, her frustration deepened.

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Not tonight.”

She wanted to scream.

Then, something caught her attention—the way he was holding himself, like he was trying not to move too much.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re hurt.”

His body stiffened slightly.

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

Without thinking, she strode toward him, reaching for the edge of his shirt. He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not forceful.

“Don’t,” he murmured.

That single word sent a shiver down her spine.

Not because it was a threat.

But because there was something raw in his voice.

Something he didn’t want her to see.

She jerked her wrist free. “Let me see, Alexander.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Her patience snapped. “Damn it, stop acting like you’re indestructible!”

Before he could stop her, she yanked up his shirt.

Her breath hitched.

A deep gash ran along his side, blood seeping through the hastily wrapped bandage. Fresh blood.

Her eyes widened. “This isn’t from tonight…”

Realization struck.

The wound had reopened.

From the attack. From Raúl Vásquez.

Her chest tightened. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Worry?

He was bleeding.

Her hands trembled as she reached for him again, but this time, it wasn’t out of anger. It was… something else.

“You need stitches,” she whispered.

“I’ll live.”

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, already grabbing the first-aid kit she had spotted earlier.

She should have been furious at him for keeping this from her.

But as she carefully tended to his wound, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingers, something shifted.

She saw past the walls he had built.

Saw the man who had protected her, even at his own expense.

And that terrified her.

A Dangerous Truth

Once she finished, she stepped back, arms crossed.

“You’re going to tell me the truth, Alexander.”

He met her gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.

“About what?”

She clenched her fists. “Raúl Vasquez. Jason’s warehouse. Why he came after us.”

Silence.

Then—

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated."

“Try me.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You said you overheard your father mention him once, didn’t you?”

She nodded, uneasy. “Yes. My father was terrified of him.”

Alexander exhaled sharply. “He had every reason to be.”

A chill ran down her spine.

There was something darker beneath his words. Something lethal.

“Raúl isn’t just dangerous, Isabella. He’s… a debt that always comes collecting.”

Her throat tightened. ”And he came for you?”

Alexander didn’t answer right away.

Then, finally—“He came for both of us.”

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated.

And that hesitation made her blood run cold.

“Alexander.” Her voice was sharp, demanding. “Tell me.”

A long silence.

Then, he sighed. “Because of your father.”

The room spun for a moment.

“My father?” Her voice wavered. “What does he have to do with this?”

Alexander’s expression darkened.

“Raúl told you something, didn’t he?” he asked quietly.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She had tried to push it aside, tried to focus on surviving the attack—but she had heard it.

Raúl Vásquez’s voice, low and taunting, words dripping with venom.

“Your father had pulled the trigger

Her mother.

Isabella’s heart pounded.

She had spent her entire life believing her mother’s death was a tragic accident. That her father had done everything to protect them.

But Raúl’s words…

They whispered a different truth.

She swallowed hard. “He said my father pulled the trigger.”

Alexander’s jaw tightened.

“Is it true?” she pressed.

He didn’t answer.

And that was all the answer she needed.

Her vision blurred. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Isabella—”

“How long?” Her voice was shaking now. “How long have you known?”

He exhaled, looking away. “Since before we got married.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

She took a step back, shaking her head. “You married me knowing my father was a murderer?”

“I married you to protect you,” he said quietly.

She laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. “Protect me? By keeping me in the dark? By letting me believe a lie?”

She turned away, pressing a hand to her chest.

Her father—the man who raised her, who loved her—had killed her mother.

And Alexander had known all along.

The weight of betrayal crushed her.

“I need to be alone,” she whispered.

“Isabella—”

She didn’t let him finish.

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

But as she stood in the dark hallway, trembling, one thing became painfully clear.

The life she thought she knew had just shattered.

And the man she had married?

He was hiding even more.

A Dangerous Realization

The night was cold, but Isabella felt nothing.

She stood in the dimly lit hallway of Alexander’s hidden mansion, her heart pounding in her chest. The truth had finally broken free, and it had shattered her.

Her father—the man who raised her, the man she had trusted more than anyone—had pulled the trigger that ended her mother’s life.

And Alexander had known.

Her hands clenched into fists. How much more was he hiding?

A Fire Rekindled

A part of her wanted to storm out, to escape this twisted web of lies.

But where would she go?

She was a hidden bride, married to a man who held secrets just as dangerous as her father’s.

A man who had kept her in the dark, yet also bled for her.

The memory of his wound flashed in her mind—the way he had tried to hide it, the way he had let her tend to him.

There had been something raw in his eyes.

Something that sent shivers down her spine.

Something that burned.

She turned sharply at the sound of footsteps.

Alexander.

He was watching her, his blue eyes stormy, his presence commanding even in the dim light.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked, his voice low, unreadable.

She swallowed hard. “What do you expect me to say?”

He took a step closer. “I expect you to be angry. I expect you to hate me.”

Her breath caught.

“Should I?” she whispered.

Silence.

Then, he closed the distance between them.

His presence was overwhelming—dangerous and intoxicating all at once.

She should have moved away.

She should have shoved him back, demanded more answers.

But instead, she stayed.

His eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest second.

Something dark flickered in his expression.

And before she could think, his fingers brushed against her wrist, trailing upward in a slow, deliberate motion.

Her pulse jumped.

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Isabella,” he murmured.

Her breath came out shaky. “Then tell me.”

His fingers traced up to her jaw, tilting her chin ever so slightly.

“Some things,” he whispered, “are better left unknown.”

A Hidden Empire

She pulled away, her mind spinning.

“You’re still keeping things from me,” she accused.

Alexander’s expression darkened.

“You think I don’t know that you’ve been lying about your business?” she pressed. “You’re supposed to be a billionaire, yet you act like regular man in your own world. What are you hiding?”

His lips curved into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re more observant than I gave you credit for.”

That only fueled her anger.

“I want the truth, Alexander. No more half-truths, no more secrets.”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes searching hers.

Then, finally—“Fine.”

Her breath caught.

“You want to know why I keep my wealth in the shadows?” he continued.

She nodded.

“Because power isn’t about how much money you have. It’s about what people don’t see.”

Her stomach twisted.

“You don’t just run a business, do you?” she whispered.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

“No, Isabella. I run an empire.”

Her blood ran cold.

She had married a man far more powerful than she ever realized.

A man who wasn’t just hiding her.

But himself.

The Name That Haunts Her

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“You knew Raúl Vásquez before the attack at the warehouse,” she said. “You’ve always known him.”

Alexander’s expression remained unreadable.

“He’s not just some criminal, is he?”

Silence.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

“He’s the reason my family is dead.”

Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected that.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly, she asked, “Why is he after you now?”

Alexander’s jaw clenched.

“Because of what I took from him,” he said."

She frowned. “What did you take?”

His eyes locked onto hers.

And his next words sent ice through her veins.

“His empire.”

The Cost of Power

The revelation hung between them like a storm waiting to break.

“You took his empire?” Isabella’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of every dangerous truth she had uncovered.

Alexander didn’t blink. He stood there, unshaken, unreadable, and terrifyingly calm.

“You think wealth is power, Isabella?” His voice was low, almost cold. “It isn’t. Control is.”

Her pulse pounded.

“You stole from him,” she murmured. “And now he wants it back.”

A slow, dark smirk touched his lips. “He can try.”

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t just business. This was war.

A Dangerous Union

She should have walked away.

She should have turned around and left this life behind.

But where would she go?

Raúl Vásquez knew who she was. He knew her name, her face, her connection to Alexander.

There was no escaping this.

“You should have told me,” she said finally.

Alexander studied her, his blue eyes sharp, calculating.

“And what would you have done?” he asked.

“I would have prepared.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

Her fists clenched. “Then make me understand!”

His smirk faded.

And for the first time, she saw it.

Not just the powerful, dangerous man standing before her—but the weight of the world he carried.

“You’re not here because of fate, Isabella,” he said. “You’re here because of choice. And if you want to survive this, you need to start making the right ones.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

A Forbidden Fire

The air between them was thick with tension—not just from the danger that loomed over them, but from something else entirely.

Something neither of them wanted to name.

Something that burned.

Isabella’s breath hitched when he stepped closer.

“You regret this marriage,” he murmured. “Don’t you?”

Her throat went dry.

Did she?

Did she regret marrying a man who had dragged her into a world of shadows and blood?

Or did she regret something else?

The way he looked at her now—like he saw right through her.

Like he knew the truth before she did.

Her silence was answer enough.

His fingers brushed against her wrist—a slow, deliberate touch.

She inhaled sharply.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t what?” His voice was a whisper, low and dangerous.

“Don’t act like this is something it’s not.”

A dark glint flickered in his eyes. “And what is it, Isabella?”

She had no answer.

Because the moment she opened her mouth to speak—

He was there.

His lips brushed against hers, just enough to steal her breath.

Her body tensed. Not from fear, but from something much worse.

Something that threatened to consume her whole.

Desire.

Then, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back.

“You want the truth?” he murmured.

She barely nodded.

“Then be ready,” he said. “Because once you know everything, there’s no turning back.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She had already known too much.

But now, she was about to learn everything.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

The silence between them was broken by the distant hum of the city outside the mansion’s heavily guarded walls.

Alexander’s hidden estate—a place even Jason didn’t know about.

After the chaos at the warehouse, they had barely escaped. Jason had gone his own way, promising to regroup once he handled his own loose ends.

But here, in this unfamiliar space, surrounded by wealth and secrecy, Isabella felt more trapped than ever.

She turned toward Alexander, watching as he poured himself a drink, his movements smooth, unaffected.

Like he hadn’t just admitted to stealing another man’s empire.

Like he hadn’t just kissed her like he owned her.

“You’re keeping more from me,” she accused.

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he handed her a glass, the amber liquid inside reflecting the dim light.

“Drink.”

She didn’t.

“You can’t just distract me—”

A heavy, suffocating silence.

Her chest heaved, anger mixing with the cold dread in her veins.

“You have no idea what you’ve just started, Alexander,” she whispered.

The weight of his words settled over her like a storm on the horizon.

Isabella’s pulse pounded in her ears. The heat of Alex’s breath still lingered on her lips—a fleeting kiss, too restrained, yet powerful enough to send fire coursing through her veins.

She should have pulled away. Should have demanded answers.

But she didn’t.

Because the truth wasn’t the only dangerous thing between them.

It was him.

It was the way his presence swallowed the room, the way his touch left invisible marks on her skin, the way his eyes—dark, hungry, ruthless—held her captive.

And worst of all… it was the way she wanted more.

Alex took a slow step back, his fingers raking through his hair as if he was trying to steady himself, but the heat in his gaze didn’t waver.

It was raw.

Unforgiving.

“Jason should be regrouping with us soon,” he said, his voice rough, low. A sharp contrast to the intimacy they had just shared.

As if the moment between them hadn’t happened.

As if it hadn’t changed everything.

“We’ll go over everything then,” he continued, turning away slightly.

But Isabella didn’t miss the way his fists clenched at his sides.

He was holding back.

And she wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to.

Because once Jason arrived, once the truth was finally out in the open—

There would be no turning back.

Not from the danger.

Not from the war.

And definitely not from him.

Isabella swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She wasn’t sure if it was fear. Or something far worse.

Alex studied her, his sharp gaze reading the unspoken hesitation in her eyes.

“You don’t think you’re ready to know the truth,” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One that held an edge of challenge.

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“I don’t,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked like he expected it.

“Then you better decide quickly,” he said, stepping closer. Close enough that the heat of his body brushed against hers. “Because once you cross that line, Isabella—there’s no coming back.”

Her breath hitched.

Because deep down, she already knew the truth.

She had crossed that line the moment she married him.

Isabella let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The shift in tone was deliberate. A barrier. A warning.

She hated how much it worked.

Swallowing hard, she folded her arms. “You’re stalling.”

Alex’s gaze darkened. “I’m protecting you.”

“From what? The truth? Or yourself?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but before he could answer, a sharp knock echoed through the silent mansion.

Jason Maybe.

Alex’s expression turned cold in an instant. The warmth from before was gone, buried beneath the weight of the world he carried.

Without a word, he moved toward the door. Isabella followed, her chest tightening with every step.

Because whatever waited for her on the other side of that door—

It was going to change everything.

Alex unlocked the heavy steel door and pulled it open.

The Real Alex

The heavy tension in the room thickened as the door swung open, revealing three men stepping into the ultra-secure mansion. They didn’t just walk in—they owned the space the moment they entered.

These weren’t just ordinary men. They were the kind of men who dealt in blood and silence. The kind who had killed before—and would do it again without hesitation.

Marcus was the first to step forward. He was livid, his muscles tense with restrained rage. His jaw was clenched so hard Isabella swore she heard it grind.

Right behind him was, Damien his sharp, calculating gaze sweeping over everyone, analyzing, assessing. He was the kind of man who didn’t waste words—only actions.

Then came Nikolai Petrovrk, the wildcard. His dark smirk carried a hint of amusement, but there was nothing lighthearted about it. He looked like he had just come from burying bodies and had enjoyed every second of it.

They had just returned from Russia.

A mission that had taken them underground, deep into the shadows of a dangerous cartel to recover a shipment that had been stolen from Alex’s network. It had been a brutal execution, one that had left bodies behind.

And now they were here.

Marcus didn’t waste time. “What the hell, Alex?” he snapped, stepping dangerously close. “We were out there cleaning up your mess, securing your business, risking our damn lives—meanwhile, you’re here playing house?”

Isabella tensed at the insult, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She couldn’t believe the way Marcus spoke to Alex—so sharp, so dismissive, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.

The air In the room shifted.

Alex’s jaw tightened, his shoulders squared, but he didn’t lash out. Not yet. His gaze flickered to Marcus, cold and unreadable, the kind of look that sent a silent warning.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Isabella felt her pulse quicken. This wasn’t just frustration—it was something deeper.

Alex exhaled slowly, then stood, his presence commanding even without a single word. He walked toward Marcus with measured steps, the tension in the room thickening with each one.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Alex said, his voice dangerously low. “You work for me. Or have you forgotten that?”

Marcus clenched his jaw, but he said nothing.

Isabella swallowed hard.

For the first time, she truly saw Alex—not just the man she had married, but the one his people feared.

Still his burning gaze locked onto Alex. “We took out the Russian cartel bastards who thought they could double-cross you, retrieved the shipment, and handled the bodies. We’ve been out there bleeding for you. And we come back to find out Dante is missing? His men are dead? What the hell happened?”

Isabella’s stomach twisted.

These weren’t just men working for Alex.

They were his killers. His executioners.

And they weren’t just upset—they were furious.

Alex, however, remained calm.

Too calm.

He sat down, his fingers tapping the armrest of the leather chair in a slow, deliberate rhythm. When he finally spoke, his voice was as sharp as a blade.

“You did what I ordered you to do. And you did it well,” he said. “But what happened here… it wasn’t expected.”

Marcus scoffed. “No shit.”

Marcus was the first to step forward, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “that Jason shot you?”

A heavy silence followed.

Alex didn’t flinch, nor did he offer an explanation.

Nikolai let out a sharp curse, raking a hand through his hair. “And you let him walk away? Just like that?” His Russian accent thickened, a clear sign of his agitation.

“We had bigger problems,” Alex said coolly. “Getting out alive was the priority.”

“That’s not the point!” Marcus snapped. “He put a bullet in you, Alex. That bastard could’ve killed you, and we weren’t even there to stop it!”

Their rage was palpable, filling the room like a storm about to break.

“Where’s Jason now?” Nikolai asked, voice like ice.

“Handling his own loose ends,” Alex muttered. “For now, we focus on Dante.”

At the mention of Dante, the anger shifted—refocused.

“We went to his house like you ordered,” Marcus said, his tone still sharp with frustration. “It was a damn massacre. His men were shot dead—executed. Yeah Alex knew.” it was a mystery which he wanted to uncover right under their noses he was taken

It was the nightmare for Isabella the night she witnessed the massacre after suspecting Dante having a suspicious intention due to he wanted them to take down he's opponent

A cold shiver ran down her spine just the thought of that.

This wasn’t just some random attack.

Someone wanted Dante to vanish.

Someone wanted to erase him.

And that someone had left behind a message. But we didn't find any message there before we left Alex said in curiosity that means the that means the had come back and dropped that

“The note,” Nikolai said. “We found it, just like you suspected, we would find something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it onto the table. “But whatever was originally written on it? It was torn apart. We’re missing the most important part of the message.”

Alex picked up the note, his eyes scanning the rough, jagged edges.

“They wanted us to find it,” he murmured. “But not the full truth.”

Marcus crossed his arms. “So now what?”

“Now,” Alex said, voice deadly calm, “we find Dante before someone else does.”

His men nodded, their fury still simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else—purpose.

Make call extend your contacts out try to see if you can figure out something

An Unexpected Visitor

The atmosphere in the mansion shifted the second the knock echoed through the hall.

Every man in the room tensed.

Their hands instinctively moved to their weapons, muscles coiled like a pack of wolves ready to strike.

Alex didn’t move.

He remained seated, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his sharp gaze flickered toward Isabella.

“Inside the study,” he ordered, his voice low but firm.

Isabella hesitated for only a second before he stretched his hand, pointing towards the barely noticeable seam in the wall. Without another word, he pressed a hidden mechanism, and the panel slid open, revealing a passage.

Her pulse pounded.

She had no idea where it led, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t ready for another fight. Not tonight.

Swallowing her fear, she rushed inside just as the door clicked shut behind her.

The knock came again—harder this time.

Marcus signaled the others, his movements quick and efficient. One man moved to the door, standing behind it, while the rest positioned themselves, weapons drawn, ready to fire at whatever threat stood on the other side.

Alex leaned back, seemingly indifferent to the impending danger. But Isabella knew better.

He was watching.

Waiting.

The air grew thicker.

Then—

The door yanked open.

A gun was cocked.

“Easy,” a familiar voice said.

Jason.

The tension snapped like a rubber band.

Marcus cursed under his breath but didn’t lower his weapon. “You’re lucky we didn’t blow your head off.”

Jason stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “I figured as much.” His gaze swept over the room, sharp and assessing. “I take it you got my message?”

Alex studied him for a moment, then nodded. “We need to talk.”

Jason exhaled, finally lowering his guard.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “We do.”

Jason stepped further into the room, but the thick hostility in the air didn’t ease. Alex’s men were still on edge, their grips firm on their weapons, their gazes cutting into him like sharpened blades.

One of them—Marcus—was especially furious. His jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring as he glared at Jason.

“You shot him,” Marcus spat, barely restraining himself. “Our boss, and you expect us to just let that slide?”

Jason’s expression remained unreadable. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Marcus stepped closer, and the air between them crackled with restrained violence. “If we had been here, we would’ve put a bullet between your eyes before you even had the chance to explain yourself.”

Alex finally sighed, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. “And that’s exactly why you weren’t here.” His tone was casual, but his eyes carried a silent warning.

Marcus clenched his jaw, but he backed off, barely.

Jason shook his head, muttering, “I see nothing’s changed.” His gaze swept across the room—guns drawn, tension thick, the unmistakable scent of blood and gunpowder clinging to the air. He exhaled sharply before turning to Alex, his expression darkening.

“It’s about Dante.”

At that, the men subtly shifted, their postures tightening.

Alex’s gaze flickered with something dangerous. “Yeah? What about him?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, his voice dropping. “I made some calls, followed a few trails. Turns out, two days before he disappeared, he reached out to someone named James Michelle. Their conversation was confidential, but it was significant enough that Dante went off the grid right after.”

Alex’s eyes sharpened, the name rolling over his mind like a blade being sharpened.

Jason continued, stepping forward. “Whoever this James Michelle is, he’s the last known person Dante spoke to. If we find him, we’ll be one step ahead in figuring out who took Dante and why.”

Alex let the information settle, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the arm of his chair. The weight of his men’s silent stares bore down on him, waiting for his next move.

Diego, standing to Alex’s left, exhaled sharply. “If Dante was desperate enough to contact someone like that, it means he was in deep. Way deeper than we thought.”

Alex didn’t respond right away. His mind was already racing ahead, connecting the dots, calculating risks.

Then—

A sound.

Faint.

But noticeable.

Isabella.

Inside the study.

Alex’s head tilted slightly, his sharp instincts catching the quiet shuffling. He exhaled through his nose, then pushed to his feet.

“You can come out now, Isabella,” he called out.

A pause.

Then the hidden panel eased open, and she stepped out, her face pale, eyes wide with barely contained emotion.

She had heard everything.

And from the way her gaze darted between Alex and Jason, one thing was painfully clear—

She was starting to realize just how deep she had fallen into a world she was never meant to be a part of.

Isabella, standing a few feet away, watched the exchange with silent apprehension. She didn’t know this James Michelle, but she knew the look in Alex’s eyes. It was the same cold, unyielding stare he had when making dangerous decisions.

Finally, Alex stood. His presence alone commanded attention.

“Find him,” he ordered. His voice was low, lethal. “I want every trace of James Michelle uncovered. No stone unturned.”

Jason smirked slightly. “Already ahead of you.” He tossed a small file onto the table. “I did some digging. If the whispers are right, James Michelle isn’t just some nobody. He’s connected—to people who don’t like having their secrets spilled.”

Alex’s jaw clenched.

“Then we’ll make him talk.”

The air shifted.

This wasn’t just a lead.

It was a warning.

Whoever had taken Dante wasn’t just some rogue threat. They were organized. Careful. Dangerous.

And now, Alex was coming for them.