Studying Again

Studying Again
Isabella's POV

"Turn off the TV!" I screamed, grabbing the remote from Don Alessandro's hand.

But it was too late. I'd already seen it. My face plastered across every news channel. My name in headlines. Articles calling me the mastermind behind twenty-five years of organized crime.

"Isabella Cross, 22, alleged to be the central figure in a criminal conspiracy involving five major crime families..."

"Authorities searching for Cross, who is considered armed and extremely dangerous..."

"Sources say Cross has been manipulating both the FBI and criminal organizations for years..."

I threw the remote against the wall. It shattered into pieces.

"This is impossible! I didn't do any of this! I didn't even know about any of this until two weeks ago!"

"We know that," Marco said gently. "But the whole world doesn't."

"Then we tell them the truth!"

"With what proof?" Don Alessandro asked. "Vincent made sure every piece of evidence points to you. Bank accounts in your name. Emails from your address. Video footage that's been doctored to show you at meetings you never attended."

"How? How did he do all this?"

"Because he's been planning it for twenty-five years," Luca said, finally awake and leaning against the doorframe. "From the moment he took you, he was building a backup plan. If he ever got caught, you'd take the fall."

The betrayal hit me like a physical punch. My father—the man who raised me, who sang me lullabies, who held me when I cried—had been preparing to destroy me my entire life.

"We need to leave," Dante said, looking at his phone. "The FBI is on their way here. So are about a dozen other agencies."

"Where do we go?" I asked.

"Nowhere," Don Alessandro said firmly. "You stay here. You turn yourself in. You cooperate fully. That's your only chance."

"They'll arrest me for crimes I didn't commit!"

"Better prison than dead. Every criminal in the city now thinks you're the reason their secrets got exposed. You're the biggest target in New York."

My legs felt weak. I sat down hard on the couch, trying to process everything.

Two weeks ago, I was a waitress studying to be a doctor. Now I was a wanted criminal, framed by my own father, hunted by both the law and the lawless.

How did my life become this nightmare?

"I can't turn myself in," I said quietly. "Not until I find Vincent and make him tell the truth."

"He's not going to confess," Nico said. "This was his plan. Why would he admit to it?"

"Because I'll make him." I stood up, strength returning to my voice. "I'll find him and I'll force him to clear my name. Even if I have to hurt him to do it."

The brothers exchanged glances. Then Luca nodded.

"Twenty-four hours," he said. "We'll hide you for twenty-four hours. Give you time to think, to plan. But after that, you're turning yourself in. Agreed?"

I wanted to argue. But I knew he was right. Running forever wasn't an option.

"Agreed."

We relocated to yet another safe house, this one in Jersey. Smaller, older, but completely off anyone's radar. The brothers set up security while I sat in an empty room, staring at nothing.

My whole life was gone. Even if I proved my innocence, even if Vincent confessed, I'd never get my old life back. I'd never go to medical school. Never become a doctor. Never have the quiet, normal existence I'd always dreamed of.

Vincent had taken all of that from me.

After an hour of wallowing, I forced myself to stand. Sitting here feeling sorry for myself wouldn't help. I needed to do something. Anything.

"Where are you going?" Dante asked as I walked past him.

"I need to think. And I think better when my hands are busy."

I found an empty room upstairs with a desk by the window. Someone had left a stack of old books—medical texts, anatomy guides, journals about surgical procedures.

For a moment, I just stared at them. These were the books I'd dreamed of studying. The knowledge I'd wanted to use to save lives.

Now they just reminded me of everything I'd lost.

But I picked one up anyway. "Human Anatomy: A Complete Guide." I opened it to the first chapter and started reading.

The words were familiar, comforting. For a few minutes, I could pretend I was back in my old apartment, studying for a test, worrying about normal things like grades and rent.

I was so focused on reading that I didn't hear Nico enter. He set something on the desk beside me—a cup of tea.

I looked up in surprise. "I didn't ask for tea."

"You didn't have to." He moved toward the door.

"Wait." I picked up the cup and took a sip. It was perfect. Exactly the right amount of sugar, the right temperature, even the right kind of tea—chamomile with a hint of honey.

"How did you know how I like it?"

Nico paused in the doorway. "I watched you make it every morning for six months."

Right. The stalking. The surveillance. The months he'd spent following my every move.

"That should creep me out more than it does," I said.

"Probably." He started to leave again.

"Nico?" He turned back. "Thank you. For the tea. And for... everything else."

He nodded once and disappeared into the hallway.

I returned to my reading, sipping the tea and trying to lose myself in medical terminology. Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky. The tea grew cold, but I didn't notice.

I was reading about cardiovascular surgery when Nico returned with a fresh cup. He replaced the cold one without saying a word.

"You don't have to keep doing this," I said.

"I know."

"Then why?"

Nico was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, "Because you deserve small kindnesses. Especially now."

Something in his voice made me look up. For the first time, I really looked at him. Not the silent killer, not the scary brother, just Nico. A man who'd spent six months watching me from the shadows, learning my habits, memorizing how I took my tea.

A man who'd protected me without ever asking for thanks.

"What was I like?" I asked suddenly. "During those six months you watched me. What was I like before all this?"

Nico leaned against the doorframe. "Strong. Even when you were crying, you were strong. You got up every day, went to work, studied until midnight, then did it all over again."

"I don't feel strong now."

"You're still here. Still fighting. That's strong."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe I was more than just a victim of my father's schemes.

"Will you stay?" I asked. "While I study? You don't have to talk. Just... stay."

Nico pulled up a chair and sat by the door. Not close enough to crowd me, but close enough that I knew he was there.

I read for another hour. Then two. Then three. The medical texts pulled me into a world where things made sense. Where problems had solutions. Where knowledge could save lives instead of destroy them.

Eventually, my eyes grew heavy. I must have fallen asleep at the desk, because I woke up with a blanket over my shoulders and the lamp dimmed.

Nico was still in his chair by the door, keeping watch while I slept.

I started to thank him, but movement outside the window caught my eye.

A car pulling up to the house. Not one of ours.

Then another car. And another.

"Nico," I whispered urgently.

He was already moving, looking out the window. His face went hard.

"We need to go. Now."

"Who is it?"

"Everyone." He pulled out his phone and texted his brothers. "FBI. Kozlov soldiers. Castellano family. They all found us at the same time."

"How is that possible?"

"It's not. Unless..." He looked at me with something like regret. "Unless someone told them exactly where we'd be."

"A traitor? Again?"

"No." Nico's jaw clenched. "A tracker. Someone planted a tracker on you. On your body."

I felt sick. "When? How?"

"The clone. When she tied you up, she must have injected you with something. A tracking device small enough to be under your skin."

I looked down at my arms, searching for any sign of injection. There—a tiny mark on my inner wrist. I'd thought it was just a scratch.

"Can we remove it?"

"Not without surgery. And we don't have time."

Shouts from downstairs. The brothers yelling. Guns being loaded.

"They're surrounding the house," Nico said, checking his weapon. "We're trapped."

"Then we fight our way out."

"You don't know how to fight."

"Then teach me fast."

Nico looked at me for a long moment. Then he handed me a gun.

"Point and shoot. Just like before. But this time, don't hesitate. These people want you dead."

We ran downstairs where the other brothers were barricading doors and windows.

"How many?" Luca demanded.

"At least thirty," Marco said, looking at security feeds. "Maybe more coming."

"We can't fight that many."

"We don't have to fight them all," Don Alessandro said, appearing from the basement. "We just need to break through one side and run."

"Where?"

"The old tunnels under this neighborhood. They'll get us to the river."

"And then what?" I asked.

Don Alessandro looked at me with those cold eyes. "Then we leave the country. All of us. Tonight."

"I can't leave. If I run, everyone will think I'm guilty."

"If you stay, you'll die."

Before I could respond, the windows exploded inward. Gas canisters rolled across the floor, filling the room with thick smoke.

"Go!" Luca shouted. "Basement! Now!"

We ran through the smoke, coughing and half-blind. I felt Nico's hand on my arm, guiding me.

We made it to the basement stairs just as the front door burst open.

But when we reached the bottom, we found someone already waiting in the tunnels.

Vincent Cross stood there, holding a detonator.

"Hello, Isabella," my father said calmly. "I'm sorry it has to end this way. But you were always meant to be my sacrifice. Just like I was always meant to be the survivor."

He pressed the button.

And the house above us exploded.