Chapter 132
Henley let out a weak chuckle, "No, Ms. Lorraine, you need to call Mr. Luca. He has to get back here right now."
The pain in his abdomen made his voice tremble, "Because I... I might not be able to protect you anymore. I can barely stand. Efren's a coward, and all he's got here are a few scalpels and expired anesthetics. Nothing decent to fight with."
Efren turned his head at that, wanting to argue, but when he opened his mouth and saw Henley's pale face and Isabella's panicked expression, he shut it again, muttering a curse under his breath.
Henley kept talking, his words slowing down from weakness, "If... if those people outside really find this place... I can't protect you. Efren definitely can't. You, Laura... you'll both be in serious danger."
The pills Efren had forced him to take started kicking in, and an overwhelming wave of exhaustion and dizziness hit him.
"Henley! Don't sleep! Look at me!" Isabella saw his eyes closing and quickly shook his arm hard, trying to bring him back.
The burning pain on her cheeks and the restless heat in her body were temporarily pushed aside by this more urgent crisis.
Her shaking jolted Henley awake. He forced his heavy eyelids open, his gaze unfocused for a moment before sharpening again.
He grabbed Isabella's wrist in return, his grip weak but carrying a desperate urgency.
"I'm about to pass out, Isabella."
"Call him now! You need him! Right this second!"
Heavy, chaotic footsteps grew louder, getting closer.
Efren flinched in fear, turning back to growl at Henley, "Henley, you idiot, you really led those lunatics straight to my place! There's at least five or six of them! They've got guns!"
The air in the clinic froze instantly, the sense of danger pressing down on everyone like a physical weight.
Isabella's heart seemed to stop for a moment before pounding even harder, like a frantic drum.
But in the midst of this overwhelming fear, a ridiculous thought popped into her head.
Could it be Vitale? Did he get the message and come for her?
"Could it be Vitale bringing people to find us?" she asked Henley, clinging to a faint sliver of hope.
Henley was barely holding on, his consciousness slipping in and out of darkness, but he managed to give a cold, certain answer with the last of his strength, "No... if it were him... he'd kick the door down... because he knows... you're here... he wouldn't... hesitate at all..."
That answer shattered the last of Isabella's illusions, but it also snapped her back to reality.
Henley was right. If it were Vitale, he wouldn't be sneaking around outside like this.
And Henley, drugged and bleeding heavily, could pass out completely at any moment.
Laura was unconscious.
Efren couldn't be relied on.
Outside were unknown, brutal enemies.
She had no time left.
Would Vitale even answer the phone? And even if he did, being so far away in Eldoria, could he make it in time?
These questions tangled in Isabella's mind like a mess of knots, but Henley's increasingly faint breathing and the footsteps closing in outside felt like two icy daggers, forcing her to make a choice.
With trembling fingers, she pulled her phone from her bag, took a deep breath, and pressed the call button.
In Eldoria, at the hotel suite where Vitale was staying.
The steam in the bathroom hadn't fully cleared yet. Vitale had just dried off, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping wet.
He picked up the phone from the bedside table. The screen lit up, but what caught his eye first wasn't any unread messages—it was a glaring, flashing red triangle warning symbol.
Vitale's muscles tensed instantly, his blood seeming to freeze in his veins.
This alert was something his father, Rhett, had designed years ago as a secret system to notify family to evacuate or seek help in the most critical moments. After Rhett's death, Vitale had modified it, tying the sole, highest-level activation authority to Henley. It was set to trigger only if Isabella faced a life-threatening danger that Henley couldn't handle.
This wasn't just an alert. It was a signal, a permission.
With this warning, Vitale could ignore all rules and hierarchies, directly mobilizing all the dark forces of the Luca family worldwide to converge on the signal's location at top speed.
It had gone off.
In the dead of night in Eldoria, it had gone off.
That meant...
Vitale's heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, almost stopping entirely.
In the same second that this suffocating panic froze his thoughts, the phone vibrated in his hand.
Isabella's name flashed on the screen.
"Isabella!" His voice burst out, hoarse and tense, "Speak! Where are you? What's happening?"
On the other end of the line, Isabella's voice came through, choked with suppressed sobs and trembling, "Vitale, we're in a clinic. Henley's hurt, he's lost so much blood. There are a lot of people outside. I'm so scared."
"Don't be afraid, listen to me, Isabella. I'm coming right now," Vitale said, his voice eerily calm, "Stay somewhere safe, hide, and don't hang up. Keep the call going!"
He growled into the phone, grabbing a black shirt and pants thrown on the couch. He yanked them on roughly, barely bothering to button a few.
Snatching the car keys, the alert receiver, and another encrypted phone from the table, he stormed out of the suite like a dark whirlwind.
The men on duty in the hallway froze in shock at the sight of Vitale—disheveled in a way they'd never seen before, yet radiating murderous intent.
"Fastest plane! Now!" Vitale roared at the nearest subordinate, his voice so ferocious that the man's legs nearly gave out.
Vitale was already charging toward the elevator, slamming the button for the garage level.
On the drive from the hotel to his private airport, Vitale pushed his sports car to its absolute limit, blowing through countless red lights, practically flying.
While driving, he kept the phone call active, using the shortest, firmest words to comfort a trembling Isabella on the other side of the ocean.
"I'm here, Isabella, I'm here. Don't be scared. Check the location I sent you, tell me any landmarks around you. Henley, hold on! I'm ordering you to hold on!"
Ten minutes.
From the moment he got the call to the second his private plane roared down the runway, it took just ten minutes.
However, not long after the plane reached cruising altitude, Isabella's voice on the still-connected call abruptly cut off.
Then came the dull thud of something heavy falling, the sharp sound of glass shattering, and Isabella's scream.
After that, the call disconnected completely, leaving only a busy tone.
"Isabella? Isabella!" Vitale shouted into the phone, his eyes wild with rage and fear, nearly crushing the device in his grip.
Panic, like the coldest venom, instantly flooded through his veins.
He immediately tried calling Henley.
No answer.
He dialed again and again, met only by the cold, automated tone.
"Faster!" Vitale snarled at the pilot, even though he knew they were already at maximum speed.
Forcing himself to stay calm, he pulled up a list of all the people he could directly command in the Thalassia area, along with their real-time locations.
Cold, concise orders, laced with a willingness to do whatever it took, spilled from his lips through the encrypted channel to every corner.
"West District, Old Jack Clinic. All nearby personnel, get there in five minutes, no matter the cost!"
"Protect Isabella, eliminate all hostile threats. I repeat, no matter the cost!"
Half an hour later.
When Vitale's signature black modified SUV, like a raging steel beast, smashed through the debris in the alley and roared up to the clinic's entrance, the fight was nearly over.
Several figures lay on the ground, some groaning in pain, others motionless. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.
Vitale didn't even wait for the car to fully stop before shoving the door open and jumping out.
His hair was a mess, his shirt unbuttoned, and his eyes burned with a fury and fear that could destroy anything in its path.
He raised his hand and fired several shots at the spot above the clinic's door lock.
The gunfire echoed deafeningly in the narrow back alley, wood splinters flying everywhere.
This wasn't just opening a door—it was a declaration.
He was here, with the will to annihilate any obstacle.
After the shots, a brief, deathly silence fell over the clinic, inside and out.
All eyes turned to the doorway, to Vitale, who looked like he'd returned from hell itself.
He strode in, his gaze locking onto a figure by the corner near a cot.
It was Isabella.
She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the edge of the bed, her face pale, hair disheveled, cheeks marked with red, swollen fingerprints from her own hands. Her eyes were unfocused, clearly still reeling from the effects of drugs and shock.
But she didn't seem to have any obvious injuries. Her clothes, though dirty and stained with blood, were mostly intact.
The moment he saw Isabella, the nearly explosive panic and rage in Vitale's chest found a tiny anchor, stopping him from tearing everything around him apart.
She was alive. She didn't appear to have suffered irreparable harm.
At that moment, another figure quickly approached Vitale. It was Amboni.
He was carrying Laura, still unconscious but breathing much more steadily.
"Boss," Amboni reported in a low, rapid voice, keeping it brief, "Ms. Lorraine isn't hurt, just shaken up and still under the influence of drugs. Henley took a knife to the stomach and lost a lot of blood, but Efren handled the emergency treatment. He's stable for now. Laura was drugged too, but she's been given an antidote. She needs rest."
Vitale forced a single, icy syllable from his throat, "Good."
His gaze shifted to the attackers.
That look in his eyes wasn't directed at humans anymore—it was the look of someone staring at insects about to be crushed.
Just as Vitale was about to move toward them, the light at the clinic's entrance dimmed, and another tall figure stepped inside.