Chapter 173
Aldo was caught off guard, yanked backward by that hand with such force that he instantly lost his balance.
He was flung out, crashing hard against the wall on the other side, the impact making a dull thud.
The jolt aggravated his wound, the pain so intense that his vision darkened, and he nearly passed out.
Struggling to lift his head, he saw who it was and exploded with rage, "Eva? Are you out of your mind? Barton already agreed to let me deal with Isabella! You're defying orders! How dare you step in to save her? You're a traitor to the organization! I'm telling Barton! I'm telling Marco!"
Aldo roared, trying to use the organization's rules and Barton's authority to intimidate Eva.
Eva stood in the center of the room, her face expressionless.
She didn't even spare Aldo a glance. Her icy gaze swept over Isabella, who was pale and huddled in the corner, blood dripping from her hands.
Her eyes lingered for the briefest moment on Isabella's scarred fingers, a flicker of something seeming to stir deep in her gaze.
But it was so quick, impossible to catch, before her eyes returned to their cold, bottomless chill.
Hearing Aldo's accusations, Eva's lips curled into a faint, scornful smirk.
"Save her?" Eva's voice was as cold as Arctic wind, "You're overthinking, Aldo. I have no interest in saving a mafia woman."
She took a step forward, looking down at Aldo, who was slumped against the wall, pale from blood loss and fury.
"I'm here to move her," Eva announced coldly, "Vitale's men are closing in. Gunshots are nearby. Barton's already taken the others out through another route."
This news hit Aldo like a bucket of ice water, dousing most of his anger and replacing it with overwhelming fear.
Vitale was coming?
That grim reaper had actually tracked them down to this place?
"If you're dumb enough to stay here and carry out your grand rape plan, then face Vitale's wrath alone, be my guest," Eva said, her tone dripping with undisguised mockery, "I'll report your heroic sacrifice to Barton exactly as it happens."
Aldo's face turned ugly.
The wound in his abdomen was still bleeding, and the terror of Vitale's impending arrival made his blood run cold.
Stay behind and face that lunatic alone?
No way!
Aldo shot Eva a vicious glare, then threw a venomous look at Isabella. Clutching his bleeding abdomen, he struggled to his feet and staggered toward the door, cursing under his breath, "Damn it, Eva, this isn't over."
His voice quickly faded down the hallway, clearly choosing to flee for his life.
Only Eva and Isabella remained in the room.
Eva finally turned her full attention to Isabella.
Her gaze fell again on Isabella's blood-soaked, trembling hands, shaking from the pain.
All ten of her fingers were cut by glass, some wounds deep, others shallow.
Some were still bleeding.
Some had flesh torn open, looking gruesome.
The pain must be excruciating, connected straight to the nerves—Eva could imagine it.
But she quickly looked away, as if it were just an insignificant detail.
She strode over to Isabella, roughly grabbing her uninjured arm and dragging her out from the corner.
"Move," Eva commanded, her voice short and icy, leaving no room for argument.
Isabella stumbled from the pull, nearly falling over.
The searing pain in her hands made her vision blur, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out.
She knew now wasn't the time to show weakness.
Eva was clearly prepared.
She pulled out a roll of rough gauze from somewhere, her movements not gentle but highly efficient. She quickly wrapped Isabella's bloody hands a few times, barely stopping the bleeding and offering minimal protection.
Then, she yanked Isabella up again, dragging her out of the blood-reeking small room at a fast pace.
The hallway showed signs of chaos. Some doors were wide open, rooms empty, clearly evacuated in a hurry.
Eva navigated the twists and turns with ease, not heading for the main exit but toward a hidden back door.
"Barton's already taken the others out another way," Eva explained in a cold, hard tone as she moved quickly, "We need to take a different route, draw Vitale's attention, and buy them time."
Isabella, enduring the burning pain in her hands and the weakness in her body, struggled to keep up with Eva's pace.
Hearing this, something clicked in her mind. Forcing down the pain, she spoke in a hoarse voice, "Eva, you've been abandoned."
Eva's steps faltered for a split second, almost imperceptible, before resuming at an even faster pace.
Her voice grew colder, tinged with a hint of offended anger, "No, don't talk nonsense."
"Yes, you have been abandoned," Isabella insisted, despite every word pulling at her raw nerves, "Barton's using you as bait, tying you to me. Vitale wants to save me, so he'll have to deal with you first."
"He'll kill you, Eva. Barton's using you as a shield to ensure his own safe escape. You don't deserve to be treated like this."
Eva stopped abruptly and turned around.
She let go of Isabella's arm, but due to the momentum, Isabella was thrown hard onto the damp grass.
Eva bent down, grabbed Isabella by the collar, and half-lifted her up, her deep green eyes burning with icy rage.
Leaning close to Isabella's face, Eva snarled through gritted teeth, "Shut up! Shut up, do you hear me? Isabella, drop your little mind games. You think I'll believe your nonsense?"
Her grip was so tight that Isabella struggled to breathe. The strain on her wounds made her face even paler, cold sweat beading on her forehead from the pain.
But Isabella stared straight into Eva's furious eyes, refusing to back down.
She knew her words had hit their mark.
Eva's anger was proof that she had listened—and that her heart was shaken, cracks forming in her resolve.
Isabella swallowed with difficulty, enduring the discomfort in her throat and the pain, gasping but speaking with surprising clarity, "Fine, I'll shut up."
"But I can't stand to see it. You work so hard for him, yet Barton treats you like a disposable pawn. Marco's the same—he only cares about himself."
"You're lying!" Eva cut her off sharply, her voice rising slightly with emotion, "Marco cares about me. I'm still useful to him. He wouldn't let Barton abandon me."
This was the first time Eva had spoken so directly about Marco, her tone laced with emotion.
That mysterious priest.
Her words carried a complex mix of dependency, faith, and some deeper, unspoken feeling that even she might not fully realize.
Isabella picked up on it.
She recalled the bits and pieces Vitale had mentioned about his father Rhett's former lawyer, Marco, along with rumors she'd heard.
"No, Eva..." Isabella's voice held pity and a knowing sadness, "Marco only cares about his grand cause, his version of justice."
"I've heard about him, and I've learned some of his past from Vitale. He's an extreme egoist. For his goals, anyone can be sacrificed."
"If Barton decided to abandon you, it's either because Marco allowed it—or because he gave the order himself."
"Because he might already know that you've helped me, that you've shown me mercy. In his eyes, that's already the seed of betrayal."
"Shut up!" Eva suddenly let go, shoving Isabella back into the grass as if burned, stepping back in a rush.
Her chest heaved violently, her eyes chaotic, filled with the raw anger of having her deepest, most hidden fears exposed.
A fleeting trace of panic flashed in her gaze.
Isabella's words were like a precise key, unlocking the door to Eva's doubts and insecurities.
Eva opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to argue more fiercely or use force to silence Isabella for good.
Suddenly!
Two sharp, abrupt gunshots rang out from somewhere in the forest, shattering the dead silence near the cliff and the tense standoff between the two women.
The shots weren't far, seemingly just beyond the sparse woods growing along the cliff's edge.
Eva's expression changed instantly.
All anger and argument were pushed aside as her instincts as a trained killer took over.
She lunged at Isabella, who was still on the ground, one hand clamping tightly over her mouth while the other dragged her deeper into the thick grass. At the same time, Eva lowered her own body to stay hidden.
Caught off guard, Isabella nearly suffocated under the grip. The wounds on her hands pressed into the damp ground and grass, sending fresh waves of agony through her.
But she quickly understood Eva's intent.
Hide.
Eva's movements were swift and precise, and the two of them disappeared into the shadows of the tall grass and bushes.
Eva held her breath, her sharp, hawk-like gaze piercing through the gaps in the grass, locked on the direction of the gunshots. Her muscles tensed, like a leopard ready to pounce.
Isabella, pinned beneath her, couldn't move. With her mouth covered, she could only strain her eyes to peer through the grass toward the outside.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, whether from fear or some kind of premonition.
The dense branches and swaying grass blurred her view.
But gradually, several vague, fast-moving figures appeared in the clearing between the trees, searching cautiously yet quickly.
Then, Isabella's gaze locked onto one of the figures.
Tall, upright, his movements carrying an almost tangible sense of urgency and violence.
Even from a distance, even in the dim light, even if his face might be smudged with dirt and sweat, Isabella recognized him.
Tears surged without warning, instantly blurring her vision.