CH- 39

CH- 39

Isabella POV

The phone’s ring slices through the quiet of my room, sharp enough to make me wince. I glance at the screen.

Kora.

Aria, perched at the edge of my bed with her arms folded, raises a brow. She heard it too.

“Answer,” she says, though her tone suggests she’s as wary as I am.

I swipe to connect and press speaker before I can change my mind.

“Kora?”

Her voice comes low, urgent, threaded with the static of background noise. “We need to meet. Now.”

I sit straighter. “What happened?”

“I’ve been digging into some files I thought were dead weight. They’re not. Isabella—your father’s offshore accounts aren’t dormant. Money’s been moving through them. Recently.”

Aria stiffens beside me, her eyes narrowing.
My pulse spikes. “That’s impossible. Those accounts were sealed years ago.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Kora replies quickly. “But they’re alive. And not just alive—active, in your name. Both of you.”

Aria and I exchange a look.

I say, “That doesn’t make sense. We’ve never touched them.”

“I know,” Kora answers. “Which means someone else has.”

She lowers her voice, as though she doesn’t want anyone near her to overhear.

“And they’re careful. They’re rerouting funds through shell companies, layering the trails. But I’m good at what I do. I saw your father’s signature attached to the original files. And now, I see yours.”

A chill runs through me.

“That’s not possible,” I whisper.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s possible,” Aria cuts in, leaning closer to the phone.

“What matters is it’s happening. Who’s behind it?”

Kora hesitates.

I hear a faint echo—like she’s in a stairwell.

“I don’t know yet. But if this keeps going, authorities will notice. And when they do, it’ll look like you’re laundering money through the same channels your father used.”

The words drop heavy into the room.

“Jesus,” I breathe, pressing a hand against my stomach instinctively.

Aria notices, her expression softening for a flicker before hardening again.

“Where do you want to meet?” she asks.

“My place isn’t safe,” Kora replies. “Too many eyes. I’ll text you coordinates. Neutral ground.”

Something in her voice unsettles me. I’ve known Kora long enough to tell when her confidence wavers. And right now, it’s cracking.

“Kora,” I say, forcing calm, “slow down. Just tell me—how bad is this?”

There’s a pause.

Then, with brutal honesty:
“If you don’t get ahead of this, Isabella, it could destroy everything. Not just the club. Not just your reputation. Everything. And if your father’s enemies are behind it… you’ll be the one paying his debts.”

The line goes dead before I can respond.

I stare at the phone like it might come alive again. But silence lingers.

Aria exhales sharply. “Well. That’s cheerful.”

I shake my head. My hands are trembling, so I press them into the mattress until the tremor stops. “She sounded scared.”

“She always sounds dramatic,” Aria replies, but there’s no conviction behind it. Her jaw is tight. “Question is—what are we walking into if we meet her?”

Dante’s voice cuts through the quiet before I can answer. “Nothing. Not tonight.”

We both turn. He’s leaning in the doorway, shoulders broad, dark hair messy from sleep. But his eyes—those eyes are sharp, awake, already calculating.

“You heard?” I ask.

“Enough,” he says, stepping into the room. His gaze flickers between me and Aria.

“This has all the hallmarks of a trap. Someone rattles a chain, you follow, they close it on your throat.”

“Or,” Aria says, “someone rattles a chain, and if we don’t follow, they use it to hang us later.”

Dante ignores her, coming straight to my side. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I swallow. “Dante—”

“No,” he says firmly, crouching so we’re eye-level.

“You just promised me last night you’d put the baby first. This? Running into unknown hands because a hacker with bad instincts says ‘trust me’? That’s not putting the baby first.”

Heat floods my face. He’s right. But he’s also wrong, because this is my father’s shadow—and shadows have a way of growing until they swallow everything.

“Do you really think staying still keeps us safe?” I whisper.

His hand brushes over mine, grounding, steady. “I think staying alive keeps you safe. I think being here, with me, is safer than whatever coordinates she’s sending you.”

Aria sighs loudly, like she can’t stand the intimacy of the moment.
“You two figure out how to braid each other’s hair later. Right now, the real question is—do we trust Kora?”

I glance at my phone again. A new message sits there: coordinates pinned near the edge of the city, an abandoned train depot.

Classic Kora.

Always dramatic, always drawn to shadows.

My chest tightens.

“I trust her,” I say finally.

Aria tilts her head.

“Do you? Or do you just want to believe someone still has answers?”

That stings because it’s too close to truth.
Dante rises, pacing, agitation rolling off him.

“If you’re going, I’m going too. But I’m telling you now—I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.”

Aria stands, squaring her shoulders. “Then it’s settled. We go. But Isabella stays in the car.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” Aria cuts in sharply. “If this goes bad, we need you breathing. Not bleeding. End of story.”

I open my mouth to argue, then close it. Because for once, Aria’s voice sounds exactly like mine used to—the sharp edge of command, the refusal to bend.

And maybe that’s what terrifies me most.

The drive out feels longer than it is. Rain spatters the windshield, turning the streetlights into bleeding halos.

Dante’s grip on the wheel is tight, his jaw tighter.

Aria sits in the back beside me, eyes flicking between the passing dark and her phone like she’s cataloguing every threat before it arrives.

When the depot finally looms ahead, it’s worse than I imagined.

Crumbling brick. Shattered windows. A skeleton of rust and silence.

Kora is there, leaning against her car, a hood pulled low.

She looks smaller than usual, swallowed by the vast emptiness around her.

As we pull up, she straightens, urgency in her movements.

But before I can open my door, Dante snaps, “Stay.”

His tone leaves no room for argument.
So I stay. Watching through the rain-streaked glass as Aria steps out first, Kora moving toward her in fast, clipped strides.

Their voices are muffled, but I catch pieces. “…accounts… movement last night… someone knew…”

Then Kora’s face changes.

Tightens. She points past Aria, past the depot.

My heart lurches.

Headlights flare in the distance.

Another car.

Fast. Too fast.

“Dante,” I whisper, panic flaring.

He’s already moving, hand sliding to the gun at his hip, eyes narrowing at the approaching glare.

Beside him, Aria shifts stance, body taut, ready.

Kora shouts something I can’t hear.