Chapter 134
Victor rolled his eyes, shrugged, and let out a sigh.
"Alright, alright, you're the boss. You call the shots."
"I was just trying to tell you earlier that the cops have already caught wind of things. My phone's been blowing up with calls asking about some big fight and shooting in that area, and something about an illegal medical spot. I've been dodging them with nonsense for now."
"But you know, they're not that easy to fool, especially if there are witnesses or if the bodies aren't cleaned up properly."
Victor paused, watching Vitale for a reaction, but the man just stood with his back to him, gently patting Isabella's back as if he hadn't heard a word.
Victor had no choice but to keep going, "What I mean is, this needs an official explanation. What's your plan? Keep pushing it down? Or..."
"I don't want the police handling this, Victor," Vitale finally spoke.
"I hope you understand how serious this is. This isn't just some random street brawl. This was an attack on me, on the core of the Luca family. And they almost succeeded. They hurt Henley and terrified Isabella."
Vitale paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in, "The police? They'll only make things messier, tying our hands with their laws and procedures while the real enemy sits back and laughs, Victor. I'll handle this my way. I'll clean house, find out who's behind this, and then..."
He didn't finish, but the unspoken threat in his silence was more chilling than any words could be.
"You just need to do two things," Vitale continued, his tone shifting back to the sharp, commanding efficiency he used when giving orders, "First, when I start questioning those scumbags in the basement, I want you there. Write down every single word. I need every detail, every name, every possible motive and connection."
"Second, that street and the Safe Haven bar—get me all the surveillance footage from before and after the incident tonight. Public, private, legal, illegal... use every resource you've got. I want it all in my study by sunrise. So, Victor—"
Vitale's icy gaze swept over Victor's face.
"You're not getting much sleep tonight. Get these two things done first."
Victor saw the unmasked intent and determination in Vitale's eyes, then glanced at Isabella, who was lost in her own fear in his arms. He finally understood the situation completely.
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, "Got it. I'll handle the cops, and I'll get the footage. I'll take care of the mess."
With that, Victor didn't linger. He turned and left for good.
The bedroom was quiet again, with only the two of them and the soft crackling of the fireplace.
Vitale slightly loosened his hold and looked down at Isabella.
Her fingers, clutching his shirt, finally eased a little, though they didn't let go completely.
Vitale felt a sharp pang in his chest.
He gently lifted her up, stood, and headed toward the bathroom, whispering in her ear, "There's blood on you. Let's wash it off, okay? I'll help you. You don't have to do anything. Leave it to me."
Isabella's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then, finally, she reacted.
She looked at him, her eyes empty, as if she'd just escaped a nightmare she couldn't wake from, not yet sure if this was reality.
Seeing those eyes, Vitale felt like a complete bastard.
He'd dragged Isabella into his world but failed to protect her fully.
He'd let her see the blood and violence he never wanted her to witness.
"I'm sorry," Vitale whispered again, his voice rough as he kissed her swollen eyelids, "I'm sorry, Isabella. It's my fault. I didn't plan well. I underestimated those bastards."
"I'll make them pay a price you can't even imagine. I promise."
His promise carried the scent of blood, but right now, it was the only comfort he could offer.
Isabella gave a faint nod, then leaned back against his chest, as if she'd used up all her strength.
Vitale took a deep breath and started moving.
With extreme patience, he removed her stained, bloodied clothes piece by piece.
Isabella didn't resist or help. She just let him do it, like a beautiful doll without a soul.
When the last piece of clothing was gone, and she sat naked on his lap, her skin looked unnaturally pale and fragile under the warm bathroom light. There were even small bruises from her struggles at the clinic.
Vitale's heart clenched again.
He carefully held her and stepped into the bathtub, already filled with warm water at just the right temperature.
The water enveloped their bodies, bringing a touch of real warmth.
Vitale sat behind Isabella, letting her lean against his chest. He grabbed a soft towel and some gentle body wash and began to clean her.
His movements were incredibly gentle. The process was quiet, with only the sound of rippling water.
From time to time, Vitale lowered his head to kiss the top of her head, her ear, her shoulder.
Not kisses of desire, but comforting touches.
He wanted to use his warmth and presence to pull Isabella out of that cold nightmare.
"I'm here, baby. Can you feel it?"
"You're safe. Those people are locked up. Henley will be okay."
"Laura will be fine too. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
Vitale kept repeating similar words, like a soothing mantra.
Isabella's breathing gradually slowed, becoming longer and less frantic.
Her heartbeat, pressed against his chest, seemed to quicken slightly.
Vitale noticed these subtle changes.
He continued his movements, the washing turning into more lingering caresses. His kisses grew deeper and hotter, moving from her earlobe to her neck, then to her collarbone.
"Look at me, Isabella," Vitale said, turning her face toward him before pressing his lips to hers.
At first, it was just a gentle touch, testing her reaction.
When he felt no resistance and saw her lips part slightly, the kiss deepened.
Isabella was passive at first, but slowly, she began to respond.
Her hands climbed up to his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him closer. Her kiss shifted from hesitant to eager, carrying a desperate need for reassurance after surviving such horror.
They held each other tightly in the warm water, their heartbeats and breaths syncing.
The water rippled with their movements, gently lapping against the edges of the tub.
Vitale's hand slid down her spine, tracing her delicate waistline before cupping her hips, pulling her closer to his already hard, burning cock.
Isabella wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her legs instinctively circling his waist, giving herself completely to him.
"Vitale..." she finally spoke, her voice hoarse and almost broken, thick with the nasal tone of someone who'd been crying, yet mixed with a strangely seductive edge, "Deeper... please... help me... forget..."
She wanted to forget the terrifying images, the cold sensations, the fear of near-death.
She wanted to use the most primal sensory overload, the intense pleasure he could give, to wash away the painful memories in her mind.
Vitale understood her plea and felt the urgent need deep within her body.
Without hesitation, he lifted her, adjusted their position, and with a powerful thrust, buried his cock deep inside her warm, tight pussy.
Isabella let out a short, sharp cry.
All the emptiness, coldness, and fear seemed to be driven out in that single, piercing moment.
Vitale began to move.
No longer gentle or tentative, his thrusts were fierce, as if to confirm their existence and claim possession.
Each deep push was heavy and forceful, reaching her deepest parts, as if branding himself into her body and soul.
Water splashed wildly with their intense movements, nearly spilling over the edge of the tub.
Under Vitale, Isabella moaned, cried, and begged, her voice fragmented but brimming with life.
She clung to his back, nails digging into his tense muscles, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, meeting every brutal thrust.
Her mind, overwhelmed by the intense sensations, started to go blank. The bloody images began to blur, replaced by the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.
"Vitale... Vitale..."
Vitale answered her cries with even fiercer thrusts and searing kisses.
He knew she was seeking salvation and oblivion through this, and he was willing to be her tool, her god, her entire world.
Finally, after relentless thrusts that nearly broke her, Isabella's body convulsed violently as she reached her peak.
Vitale followed soon after, releasing himself deep inside her pussy.
In the afterglow, they clung to each other, their heavy breaths intertwining.
Isabella collapsed in his arms, her gaze unfocused, tear streaks still on her face, yet there was a weary calm after the release.
Vitale lifted her out of the tub, wrapped her in a soft, dry towel, and carried her back to bed.
He gave her a glass of warm water, secretly dissolving half a mild sleeping pill into it.
He needed her to rest—truly rest, without nightmares haunting her.
The drug took effect quickly, combined with her exhaustion and the intense encounter. Isabella's eyelids grew heavy, and she eventually fell into a deep sleep in his arms, her breathing steady and slow.
Vitale held her for a long time, waiting until he was sure she was fully asleep.
Only then did he gently lay her down, cover her with the blanket, and place a soft kiss on her forehead.
He got up, his own desire still not fully sated, his cock still hard and craving more release.
But he couldn't continue.
He could sense that for Isabella, what just happened wasn't just pleasure—it was a desperate cry for help, teetering on the edge of collapse.
He couldn't keep using this method to help her forget her pain.
That would only push her into another kind of abyss.
The real cure was to eliminate the source of her pain.
Vitale didn't head to the basement to start torturing the captives right away. He needed to deal with something else first.
He changed into a clean black suit and headed to the private hospital.
Laura's room was on the VIP floor, guarded by men arranged by Amboni at the door.
He raised a hand and pushed the door open.
The room was softly lit. Laura was half-sitting on the bed, her face still pale, her eyes filled with lingering fear.
Seeing Vitale enter, she froze for a moment. Relief briefly flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by the chilling aura of menace and pressure radiating from him.
He didn't offer greetings or comfort.
His first words were a cold question:
"Tonight, at Safe Haven bar, before everything happened, what did you and Isabella talk about?"