Chapter 61: Tristan

I lift Isabella’s lifeless body into the truck, positioning her on the soft leather of the back seat while Dominic holds the door open.

I’m on autopilot as I get in, but as I look at the guilty, shame-filled expression on my brother’s face, emotion seeps in with that touch of humanity, and I wonder when it was, I truly became a monster. Tonight I allowed the beast to come out effortlessly.

I’ve been so consumed with vengeance I never thought about this part and how I’d truly feel about what I’m doing.

When Pa announced he was retiring after our grandfather’s death, he gave us all a chance to be the boss of the family. His four sons had a shot at power. He knew, though, who he was going to choose because he saw something in each of us that made us who we are. He picked right when he chose Massimo because he’s the epitome of my mother and father.

Me though, no. I’ll always believe I wasn’t chosen because Pa saw this side of me. The beast.

What else am I if I can do this to an innocent woman?

An innocent woman who trusted me.

I look down at her, and I find I can’t take my eyes off her. That last kiss I gave her was my sorrow for what was about to happen. The first kiss was me … the real me giving in to the call to explore her. It wasn’t an act.

“Tristan,” Dominic says, pulling me from my thoughts. “You have to strip her clothes. We can’t take the risk.”

Fuck…

Dominic’s right. We can’t take any risk whatsoever. I wouldn’t put it past Mortimer to put trackers in her clothes. I look at him as he hands me a plain white gown comparable to what you’d get in a hospital.

“I need some privacy,” I say, taking the gown. I don’t want anyone seeing her but me.

He nods his agreement, and when he closes the door, I start undoing the buttons to her romper. She’s weightless, so it’s not hard to lift her and slip her clothes off.

Her head lulls back when I take off her bra and panties, exposing her perfect naked form. Not wanting to be more than the bastard I am, I keep my eyes on her face—her soft, vulnerable, angelic face.

I know Alyssa’s captors didn’t pay her the same respect. She looked like an angel too. The devil messed her up and allowed his animals to butcher her. They sent me her head in a box, but I found parts of her scattered all over L.A.

There was never any sign of her clothes anywhere. What I buried were parts of the woman I loved. It was the worst experience of my life.

My father’s killing was enabled by Mortimer’s hand, but there was more at work when it came to Pa. Alyssa died because of Mortimer’s greed and selfish desire to teach a lesson because we crossed him.

I want to compare and contrast the violent death Alyssa suffered to what I’m doing to Isabella to justify my actions. I want to see myself as better because I’m allowing her to live. I want to think of this pursuit as a means to an end because Mortimer Viggo took so much from me, and he needs to be wiped out. But I can’t do any of that because this doesn’t feel fucking right.

Nothing in my world feels right. This is just one more thing.

Confliction roils within me, and I fight to remember the reasons why this has to happen. No matter how right or wrong, this feels, Isabella Viggo is collateral damage and leverage. What I’m doing now is a giant step for all of us.

Mortimer Viggo is a man who is deemed untouchable, and the woman before me is a way to touch him. That is what she is.

I slip my arm around Isabella’s waist and raise her up so I can put the gown on her, but my hands still when I catch sight of thin silver lines on her lower back. There are two distinct lines going across the skin. A closer look reveals a few more faint lines, but those look like they faded with time.

A pang of remorse creeps into my cold heart when I realize what those marks are. Whip marks. Someone whipped her. The silver lines I can see are the worst hits. The scars that won’t heal, a result of the skin being broken and cut deep.

I gaze at her in my arms, and I can’t imagine anyone doing that to her.

But look at me—hypocritical asshole. I’m kidnapping her.

Gritting my teeth, I shove my thoughts to the back of my mind. I can’t allow myself to feel anything in regards to this girl, not guilt, not remorse for what I’m doing, and definitely not compassion.

I place the gown on her and shuffle to sit so I can hold her to my chest. It’s gonna be a long night, but she’ll be out for several hours. The tranquilizer I used on her is the type that would knock out a horse.

“Ready,” I call out to Dominic.

He jumps in the driver’s seat and tears out of the parking lot.

We arrive at the landing strip an hour later.

Massimo and Candace are already there. Next to them is the group of guards and enforcers, including Leo and Nick, who will be staying in Rhode Island to keep an eye on things. Keeping watch for what Mortimer will do when he discovers Isabella is gone.

For security reasons, it will just be a small party going to the island. —five guards and our doctor. They’re already on board the jet.

Candace’s face goes rigid the second she sees me lift Isabella from the back seat of the truck, and Massimo tenses his shoulders.

The jet looks ready to go. Everything looks ready. Ready to truly start this journey to retribution.

Isabella feels smaller in my arms. She’s out cold, and in such a deep sleep she doesn’t even stir when her arm flops down by her side. I pull her closer to my chest, and as it’s cold, I place my jacket over her.

Massimo walks up to me, and Candace follows closely behind.

“You ready?” Massimo asks, looking from me to Isabella’s still form.

“Yes. I’ll make contact when we arrive,” I answer.

“I’ll dispose of her things.”

Dominic tosses the keys of the truck to Massimo, and he catches it.

This is where we split off.

Dominic and I will head to the Island with Isabella, Massimo will go back to L.A., and Candace will join Emelia in Chicago. Massimo has made arrangements with Claudius Morientz and a few other bosses in our alliances to protect them. Just in case things don’t go as planned and war comes.

“Um, guys,” Candace says, quickly cutting in. “I feel bad just going to Chicago to sit around and wait. I want to help.”

It’s not a good idea for her to come. I don’t like her in the middle of this as it is, seeing us up to no good being the criminals we are. But I take note of the secret message she sends me when her eyes quickly dart to Dominic. Instantly I remember what we spoke about last night. It never left my mind. I’ve just been focusing on the mission to take Isabella. I hoped to get it done then switch my focus to Dominic. Candace must be extremely worried to offer to come with us. I take that to mean whatever she thinks is wrong with Dominic must be quite serious.

“You need to head to Chicago, Candace,” Massimo answers.

“I think I could help by going to the island. She’s gonna be scared when she wakes up. It might help to have another woman there.”

She might be right about that, even though fear is what I want Isabella to feel.

“She’s right,” I say, and I can almost sense Candace’s relief. “Everything will help get the information we need.”

Massimo runs a hand over his beard and nods his agreement. “Okay, head to Chicago at the first sign of trouble,” he tells Candace.

“I will,” she promises.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I order. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Watch each other’s backs and be safe,” Massimo cautions the same way Pa would, and I feel a pang of grief for my father.

“And you.”

Dominic and I nod our acknowledgment, then make our way onto the jet with Candace.

I set Isabella down comfortably in the cot and strap her in.

It won’t be long before Mortimer’s men discover she’s missing. Because of the easiness in the way I took her, I think they’ll believe she tried to escape. They’ll believe that at first until they don’t.

I sit in front of her, watching her lying there, and remember the feel of her lips on mine.

I remember how she tasted and think of the night she thought we were going to have. It’s a night we could have had in another life. A fantasy is all it will be because when she wakes, she’ll hate me the way she’s supposed to.

I’m her enemy now, but she was always mine.

I don’t expect her to wake until morning. Maybe even later.

By then, we’ll be on the island.