CH-30
CH-30
Isabella POV
The safehouse windows shatter, glass raining like frozen stars.
Dante pushes me down hard, his body shielding mine as gunfire explodes through the night. I can hear Marco shouting, returning fire, the heavy thud of boots as Cassian’s men storm inside.
“Stay behind me,” Dante growls, his voice sharp with command.
I clutch the pistol, my heart a drumbeat of fury and fear. “You trust these people?”
“No,” he says, rising just enough to shoot one of them clean through the chest. “But right now, we don’t have a choice.”
Two men in dark suits step forward—guns drawn, but not firing. They wear the Syndicate’s sigil: a black serpent coiled around a silver blade.
Their leader smirks. “Mr. Valeri. Mr. Cassian would like a word.”
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Dante POV
Cassian’s “invitation” isn’t one you refuse.
By midnight, we’re dragged to a penthouse high above Milan. The place reeks of power—steel and glass, velvet drapes, whiskey expensive enough to buy a country.
Cassian is waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He’s dressed in black silk, the kind of man who makes danger look seductive.
“Valeri,” he says smoothly, turning toward me. “And the infamous Isabella De Luca. Milan’s little princess.”
I step in front of her. “Cut the theatrics. What do you want?”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “A favor. In exchange for protection. Selene’s coming for your empire, and the Volkovs are circling like wolves. I can keep you alive… for a price.”
My jaw tightens. “Name it.”
“Her,” Cassian says, pointing at Isabella.
The air between us freezes.
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Isabella POV
“What?” My voice cuts sharp and low.
Cassian’s amber eyes drag over me like a predator sizing up prey. “I don’t mean kill you, darling. I mean I want your loyalty. Your family’s clubs. Your contacts. The De Luca name under the Syndicate flag.”
“And if I refuse?” I ask.
Cassian shrugs, flicking ash into a crystal tray. “Then I let Selene carve you into pieces and watch the Volkovs auction off what’s left.”
Dante steps forward, murder in his gaze. “You touch her, and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Cassian laughs. “You owe me, Valeri. Do you think I don’t know where your loyalties used to lie?”
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Dante POV
His words are knives, sharp and intentional.
Cassian is right—I do owe him. Years ago, in Naples, he pulled me out of a death trap when I went rogue. But I didn’t come here to grovel.
“You want the De Luca name?” I growl. “Then take me instead.”
Cassian’s smirk grows. “Tempting. But not half as valuable as her.”
Isabella’s nails dig into my arm, her silent warning: don’t lose control.
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Cassian POV
I return to my private suite, the shadows here tasting like sin.
The call girl is already waiting, pale and pliant in a black slip, her knees folded beneath her like a prayer. She doesn't speak, she knows better.
"On your knees," I murmur, my voice low and commanding.
Her lips part around me, obedient and silent, just how I like them. My hand knots in her hair, setting the rhythm. I'm in control, precise and never rushed.
Power isn't in violence—it's in restraint.
I feel her body responding to me, her breath hitching as I finger her, my other hand on her breast, teasing her nipple through the silky material.
She's wet, so fucking wet, and I love it. I love the power I have over her, the way she responds to my touch.
"Fuck, you're so tight," I groan, increasing my pace. I can feel her getting close, her body tensing up, her moans getting louder.
I love it, I love making her cum hard.
She looks up at me, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "I want you to fuck me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smirk, my dick already hard again. "Beg for it," I command.
"Please, fuck me," she pleads, her eyes wide and desperate. "I need you inside me."
I don't need to be asked twice. I flip her over, pulling her black slip up and exposing her perfect ass. I slide inside her, my hand on her hip, guiding her movements. She's so fucking tight, so wet, and I can feel her squirting around me, her body trembling with pleasure.
I fuck her hard, my balls slapping against her clit, my hand on her throat, choking her gently.
She loves it, I can tell by the way she moans, by the way her pussy clenches around me.
"You like that, don't you?" I growl, my hand still on her throat. "You like it when I fuck you like a dirty little slut."
"Yes," she gasps, her body trembling with pleasure. "Yes, I love it."
I can feel myself getting close, my balls tightening up, my dick swelling inside her.
I fuck her harder, my hand on her throat, choking her roughly now. She loves it, she's cumming hard, her body trembling with pleasure.
I pull out, my cum shooting all over her ass, marking her as mine.
She looks back at me, her eyes glazed over with pleasure, her body trembling with aftershocks.
I lean down, my lips on her ear. "Now get on your knees and clean me up."
She obeys, her lips around my dick, her tongue swirling around the tip, cleaning every last drop of cum.
I groan, my hand in her hair, guiding her movements.
"Such a good little slut."
She looks up at me, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smirk, my dick already hard again. "You're welcome."
I lean down, my lips on her ear. "Now get dressed and get out."
I watch her leave, my dick still hard though.
Because I'm a powerful man, and I always get what I want. And what I want is to fuck, to dominate, to come undone.
And I always do. "The world bleeds for power," I whisper, almost tenderly. "And soon, so will they."
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Isabella POV
Cassian returns to the room, composed, like nothing happened. “You have twenty-four hours,” he says. “Decide if you want my protection… or my bullets.”
He tosses a flash drive onto the table. “Coordinates. Selene’s next move.”
Dante grabs it without hesitation.
As we leave, Cassian’s voice follows like smoke. “Tick-tock, princessa.”
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Dante POV
We drive back in silence. Isabella’s eyes are fixed on the flash drive, her fingers clenching and unclenching. I know what she’s thinking—Cassian’s offer isn’t a choice. It’s a death sentence disguised as a lifeline.
When we arrive at the safehouse, Marco’s pacing by the door. “What the hell did he want?”
I shove the flash drive at him. “Intel. And leverage.”
“On what terms?”
“On Isabella,” I mutter.
Marco stiffens. “Over my dead body.”
“Over all our dead bodies if we don’t figure out a plan,” I snap.
Isabella’s phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
She answers—and freezes.
A woman’s voice purrs through the line.
“Hello, sorellina.”
It’s Aria.
“Cassian isn’t your biggest threat,” she whispers. “I am. And I’m already inside your city.”
The line goes dead.