CH-21

CH-21


Isabella POV:

The smoke clings to my throat like ash.
When my vision clears, the first thing I see is blood—a streak of it smeared across the trunk of a nearby tree, Marco’s rifle lying abandoned in the dirt. The second thing I see is Dante, his chest heaving, scanning the shadows like a wolf cornered.
“Marco,” I choke out.
“Gone,” Dante growls. “They took him.”

There’s something wild in his eyes, something I’ve seen only a handful of times—when he’s inches from losing control. He grabs my arm, pulling me closer to the cover of the trees as another shot cracks in the distance.
“We need to move. Now.”

“No,” I snap, ripping free from his grip. “We’re not leaving him.”
“He’s already a hostage, Isabella. Charging in will just make you the next one.”
“Then what’s your plan?” I spit. “Sit and wait while Selene carves pieces off him?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he checks his gun, eyes scanning the ground for tracks.
“She won’t kill him yet,” Dante says after a beat, voice low. “Marco knows the safehouse layouts. She’ll want that intel. She’ll break him before she spills blood.”

The thought of Marco, bound and bleeding under Selene’s hands, makes my stomach twist.
“He’s your friend,” I hiss.
“He’s my soldier,” Dante corrects, his tone sharp—almost cruel. “And soldiers die for their cause. I need you alive. That’s my only priority.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, stepping closer until my chest brushes his. “Don’t you dare pretend you care about me more than him. If you ever cared about anything—about us—you’ll get him back.”

For a moment, something shifts in his expression. Pain. Frustration. Desire.
He grabs my jaw, tilting my face up until I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“You don’t understand, Isabella,” he rasps. “Everything I do is for you. Everything. Even when it looks like betrayal.”

I search his face, desperate for something real. But all I see is the mask he’s worn since the day we met—calculated, guarded, unbreakable.
“Then prove it,” I say. “Save Marco. Or we’re done.”

He flinches like I slapped him.
“Don’t threaten me.”
“I’m not,” I reply coldly. “I’m promising you.”

Before he can respond, a faint sound breaks the tension—a phone ringing, muffled and distant. Dante spins, eyes narrowing, and follows the sound to Marco’s dropped gear.
It’s Marco’s burner phone.
A message glows on the cracked screen:

PLAY ME.

Dante presses the button.
Static. Then Selene’s voice, smooth and venomous.
“De Luca,” she purrs. “I see your pet soldier is loyal. I wonder how loyal he’ll remain when I start cutting away the pieces that matter most.”

The audio shifts—there’s a muffled groan, Marco’s voice straining through pain.
“Boss… don’t…”
Selene’s soft laugh cuts through me like ice.
“You have until midnight to bring me what I want. The girl. Or he screams until the sun comes up.”

The message ends.

My blood runs cold.
“She’s not bluffing,” I whisper.
“No,” Dante says. His face is stone, but I hear the edge in his voice. “She never does.”

I grab my gun, check the clip. “Then we go now.”
“Not like this,” he growls, yanking the weapon from my hand. “You’ll walk right into her kill box.”
“Then teach me how to survive it,” I snap, my voice shaking with fury. “Because I’m not waiting here while Marco dies.”

Dante steps closer—so close I feel the heat of him, the coiled violence just beneath his skin.
“You want to walk into Selene’s nest?” he says softly. “Then you need to know what kind of animal she is. What she turned me into.”
“What are you talking about?”

His jaw clenches.
“The night your mother died… I wasn’t just following orders. I made a deal.”

The world tilts.
“What deal?” I whisper.

His voice is gravel, torn and raw.
“She offered me freedom. Freedom from the life I was chained to. From the blood-debts, the contracts, the constant shadow of death. One life, she said. Just one. And I could walk away.”
My breath stutters. “You mean her life. My mother’s life.”
“Yes,” he says. “And I took it.”

My hand shakes as I reach for the gun he stole from me. “You killed her.”
“I didn’t know who she was to you,” he says quickly, stepping closer. “I didn’t know until it was too late. And I’ve been paying for that mistake every day since.”

I want to shoot him.
I want to kiss him.
I want to hate him—but my heart won’t let me.
“You should’ve told me,” I whisper, tears burning hot behind my eyes.
“I was afraid you’d never look at me again.”

Before I can speak, the sound of an engine growls in the distance. Headlights sweep across the treeline.
Dante moves fast, pulling me behind the ruins of an old brick wall. Through the scope of his rifle, he watches the convoy roll into the clearing—Selene’s men. Three trucks. Armed to the teeth.
At the center of them, dragged out like bait, is Marco.
Bloodied. Blindfolded.

“Isabella,” Dante whispers, his voice steel now. “If we do this, we do it my way. No hesitation. No mercy.”
I nod, fingers tightening on the pistol. “Let’s end this.”

Just as we’re about to move, I catch sight of something in the distance.
Not Marco.
Not Selene’s soldiers.

Aria.
Standing on the roof of the lead truck, her face calm, her eyes locked on mine.
And she’s holding my mother’s locket.