CH-23

CH-23

Isabella POV

Smoke still clings to my skin like a suffocating shroud.
Every breath tastes of burnt iron and betrayal, thick and bitter in my throat.

We left the compound in ruins—Selene’s men scattered like broken pieces of glass, her weapons cache reduced to smoldering ash. But we didn’t win. Not really.
The war is breathing down my neck now, pressing hard against my ribs, whispering threats in the dark cracks of my sanity.

Dante hasn’t woken yet.

I sit beside his bed, hands wrapped around his cold fingers, willing warmth into them like a prayer. His face is pale under the harsh hospital light, a thin sheen of sweat catching on his jawline. The bullet wound wasn’t clean—it tore through muscle, grazing bone, leaving jagged scars beneath the skin. Marco worked fast to dig the metal out, but the damage is ugly, raw, like a wound that refuses to heal.

“You always were too stubborn to die,” I murmur, brushing a stray lock of his dark hair from his forehead. “Don’t prove me wrong now.”

Luciana steps quietly into the room, her heels clicking softly against the cold floor. She doesn’t speak immediately—just watches me, as if I’m a ghost she can’t quite believe is still breathing.

“They’ll come for us again,” she says finally, voice low but sharp like a blade.

“I know,” I reply, barely above a whisper.

“Selene won’t stop. Not while Aria stands at her side.”

The name cuts sharper than I expected. I meet Luciana’s gaze, steel meeting warning. “She’s my sister. My blood.”

Luciana’s eyes flash with contempt. “She’s Selene’s weapon. Don’t forget that. Not for a second.”

I turn back to Dante, fingertips tracing the fragile line of his palm. “Do you think I want to? Or that I could?”

Luciana exhales, a rare weariness pulling at her shoulders. “When I look at you, Isabella, I see your mother—fierce, brilliant. But she made mistakes. She trusted blood over power. Don’t make the same one.”

I want to scream at her. Demand the secrets she’s keeping, the truths she’s hiding. But all I do is whisper, “Aria isn’t my enemy. Not yet.”

Luciana leaves the room with silence heavier than any threat.

Later that night, the safehouse feels like it’s holding its breath.

Marco’s men sweep the perimeter, their long shadows twisting beneath the cold moonlight.

I pace the narrow corridor outside Dante’s room, nerves fraying with every step.

Suddenly, the radio crackles—sharp, urgent.

“Movement,” Marco’s voice hisses through the static. “East wall. Three signatures. No—four.”

My blood turns to ice. “Selene?”

“Could be scouts. Could be worse. Stay inside.”

I don’t stay inside.

Grabbing the pistol from my holster, I slip out the back door, the chill night air biting into my skin like a warning.

The east wall is little more than fractured stone and overgrown ivy. I crouch low, pressing my ear against the cold silence.

Then I see it.

A shadow, too tall, too deliberate to be random.

My pulse races as I step forward, gun raised—

Aria.

She’s dressed in black, her dark hair tied back tightly, a blade strapped low to her thigh.

Her eyes—my eyes—lock onto mine with a fierce intensity.

“You’re reckless,” she says softly. No greeting. No softness. Just ice.

“You’re trespassing,” I shoot back, voice sharp.

Her gaze assesses me like a rival, not a sister. “I came alone.”

“Why?”

“To warn you.”

I laugh—sharp and bitter. “What could you possibly warn me about? Your queen?”

“She’s not my queen,” Aria replies, stepping closer. There’s a flicker of something vulnerable beneath her hard edge. “Selene doesn’t just want your empire. She wants your death. She’s planning something worse than you can imagine.”

I hesitate, grip tightening on my pistol. “And you care because...?”

“Because I don’t know if I want to be her weapon anymore.”

The admission hangs raw and fragile between us.

“Then prove it,” I say, voice low and fierce.

She tilts her head. “How?”

“Help me take her down.”

For a moment, something flickers in her eyes—a fragile spark of hope.

Then—

A rifle shot cracks the night air.

“Sniper!” Marco’s voice roars through the comm.

Aria’s eyes widen. “It’s not mine—”

Another shot follows, closer this time. Bark explodes from the tree behind me.

I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist. “Run!”

We dive behind a crumbling stone wall as bullets tear through the night air.

I pull her down hard, pressing her flat against the cold earth. “Stay low.”

She gives me a sharp, defiant look. “I’m not helpless.”

“Welcome to my world,” I snap back.

The sniper fire suddenly stops.

The silence that follows is worse—thick and suffocating.

Aria’s breath is ragged, pulse hammering beneath my fingers.

“She’s testing me,” Aria whispers. “Selene. She sent someone to see if I’d betray her.”

My stomach twists with dread. “And if you fail?”

Aria’s gaze hardens, colder than steel. “She’ll kill me before she kills you.”

We crawl back through the shadows to the safehouse, every step weighted with tension and unspoken fear.

Inside, Marco nearly tackles us both. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“She’s not our enemy,” I snap.

“Not yet,” he mutters, eyes wary.

I turn to Aria, desperation edging my voice. “Stay. Talk to me. Tell me everything Selene’s planning.”

Aria’s expression softens—just barely. “I’ll tell you what I know. But Isabella… when this war ends, one of us won’t walk away.”

Before I can respond, a crash shatters the quiet—coming from Dante’s room.

I bolt toward the door, heart hammering.

Inside, the window is shattered.

The bed is empty.

Blood trails across the floor.

Dante is gone.