Chapter 186
Isabella lifted her head and looked at Vitale again, her eyes no longer avoiding his.
They were filled with exhaustion, clarity, and a heavy kind of calm that comes after experiencing a huge shock.
"Vitale, I've still been in pain these past few days," she began to speak slowly, as if trying to sort through her chaotic thoughts, "I've had so many dreams, so many."
"I dreamed that a lot of people died—my father Mason, my brother Zane, and even Sonia, who I hate the most. They all died."
Isabella's voice trembled slightly, but her tone was surprisingly steady, as if she were stating an objective fact rather than being trapped in a nightmare.
"I kept begging those people, begging Barton and his group to spare my family. I said I could leave you, leave you forever."
"But they wouldn't listen. They blamed me for falling in love with you, saying all this disaster happened because I fell for a mafia boss."
Isabella paused, her gaze sharpening as she looked at Vitale. Her eyes held confusion, pain, but also a growing sense of realization.
"Vitale, I've realized that those people who claim to fight against the mafia for justice—their methods are sometimes even crueler and more ruthless than yours."
"They use innocent people, create fear, and even threaten me with my family, just to achieve their goal of taking you down."
At this point, a hint of self-mockery and deep confusion crept into Isabella's tone.
"But isn't it strange? I know they're worse, crazier, and yet I'm afraid of you."
Isabella raised her head, looking straight into Vitale's eyes. Her blue eyes were filled with genuine confusion and a desperate need for answers.
"Vitale, this isn't right."
"It's not fair—to you or to me. But I can't control it. At least, I couldn't before."
Vitale listened quietly, his heart rising and falling with every word Isabella spoke.
When she said she missed him too, he felt overwhelming joy.
When she described her nightmares, his heart ached for her.
When she exposed the hypocrisy and cruelty of those so-called champions of justice, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.
And when she finally admitted that this wasn't right, a complex mix of heartache, relief, and deeper sadness overwhelmed him.
Vitale pressed his lips together, his jawline tightening.
He had been waiting all this time, waiting for Isabella to come to her senses, waiting for them to be able to talk normally again.
But now that the moment had arrived, hearing her analyze her fear and contradictions with such clarity and almost brutal calmness, he felt an indescribable pain in his chest.
Her clarity had stripped away the naive, beautiful filter she once saw the world through.
She was forced to face the dirt and complexity of this world, as well as the darkest, bloodiest side of their relationship.
This clarity itself was a kind of pain.
Vitale reached out, touching Isabella's thin but now calm face with a tenderness that felt almost reverent.
His thumb gently brushed over the faint dark circles under her eyes, his movements unbelievably soft.
"Isabella," his voice was low and hoarse, carrying a soothing strength, "you don't have to be afraid. You can always be yourself."
"It's okay to feel scared or conflicted. Time will slowly heal some things."
Vitale paused, his tone becoming firmer, carrying an unquestionable promise.
"As for your family, I've been protecting them. I've sent my most trusted people to guard them 24/7, ensuring their absolute safety."
"Barton and his remaining crew are running and hiding like stray dogs. They can barely take care of themselves, let alone touch your family. They'll be fine—I promise you."
Seeing the light of relief and gratitude gradually brighten in Isabella's eyes, the tight string in Vitale's heart loosened a little.
But he knew this wasn't the time to relax.
Hunting down Barton, rooting out Marco, and eliminating all threats—that was the only way to solve everything.
Vitale leaned closer, his gaze sharp and focused, like a hunter locking onto his prey.
"Now, Isabella, I need your help. Tell me everything you remember about Barton, as detailed as possible. What does he look like? How does he talk? Who's usually around him? Any detail helps. And during the time you were held captive, did he mention any specific places or people?"
At the mention of Barton's name, Isabella's body trembled almost imperceptibly—a lingering fear etched deep into her bones.
But she quickly steadied herself, taking a deep breath to force herself to focus.
She nodded, showing she understood.
However, just as Isabella was about to start describing, her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the expression on Vitale's face.
On that face, usually filled with dominance and control, there was now not only focus and a hint of urgency but also a deeper, lingering shadow of gloom and pain.
That pain was so heavy that it made him look even more worn out than her, someone who had just struggled out of a nightmare.
A thought flashed through Isabella's mind like lightning.
Suddenly, she reached out—not to push him away, but to gently wrap her arms around Vitale's neck with a comforting intent. This action made Vitale's body stiffen instantly, a look of disbelief and joy flashing in his eyes.
"Dear Vitale..." Isabella's voice was soft, tinged with a pained confusion, "Why do you look more hurt than I do?"
She held Vitale's face, forcing him to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with genuine concern.
"Thank you for protecting my family. Now it's my turn to protect you—or at least share some of the burden."
Isabella leaned closer, her forehead almost touching his, her blue eyes gazing deeply into his stormy, conflicted ones.
"Tell me, what's wrong? Is it Marco? He killed your family, didn't he?"
Those words were like a key, instantly breaking through the last psychological barrier Vitale had been desperately holding up.
The hatred and sorrow he had suppressed deep in his eyes erupted with a roar!
"It's Marco!" Vitale's voice suddenly turned hoarse and broken, filled with bone-deep hatred and a near-breaking grief. He gripped Isabella tightly in return, his hold so strong it felt like he might crush her bones, as if drawing strength from her to keep himself from completely falling apart.
"I've figured it all out. It's him, that coward, that traitor. He betrayed my father's trust! He planned everything! He killed my mother, my Liliana, and my father! Marco! Marco!"
Vitale was like a beast trapped in a hell of hatred, starting to roar uncontrollably, every word soaked in blood and tears.
The painful memories of his family's tragedy, which he had buried deep and never easily shown, now poured out like a flood breaking through a dam.
His body trembled violently with the intensity of his emotions, his eyes bloodshot, his reason almost consumed by the overwhelming hatred.
Isabella felt pain from his tight grip and was shaken by his sudden, complete breakdown and anguished roars.
She sensed his despair, his helplessness, and realized that beneath his steel-like exterior, there were raw, unhealed wounds dripping with blood.
She tried to pat his back gently to comfort him, just as he had done for her before.
But at this moment, Vitale was completely lost in his vortex of pain, unresponsive to any external comfort.
Seeing his emotions spiraling out of control, Isabella felt anxious but also surged with a strong determination to pull him out of this suffering.
Without hesitation, she tilted her head up and pressed her lips hard against his, silencing his roars of hatred and pain.
This wasn't a gentle kiss.
It was resolute, comforting, and carried a forceful message of "I'm here, look at me."
Vitale's roars stopped abruptly, his body freezing in place.
He could taste the faint medicinal flavor on her lips and feel her slight trembling.
But more clearly, he felt her unwavering determination to pull him back to reality through this act.
This kiss was like a bucket of ice water dousing the flames of his boiling hatred.
The intense emotions receded like a tide, replaced by confusion, a dazed feeling of being forcibly woken from a nightmare.
And the real, warm, soft touch of her lips brought a lingering thrill of survival.
Isabella felt his rigid body gradually relax, his roars cease, and his heavy, chaotic breathing slowly steady.
Only then did she pull back slightly, her arms still around his neck, foreheads touching, panting as she looked at him.
Vitale's gaze finally refocused, landing on Isabella's face, so close to his.
He saw her slightly swollen lips from the intense kiss, the lingering worry and determination in her eyes, and the kiss she had offered to comfort him.
All the violence, pain, and hatred seemed to be miraculously, temporarily sealed away by this kiss.
Vitale raised his hand, his fingertips trembling slightly, and gently touched Isabella's swollen lips, his expression incredibly complex.