Chapter 27

Isabella’s POV

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a steady pulse of voices, bets, and bloodlust. But I blocked it out.  

The only thing that mattered was the woman in front of me.  

She smirked, rolling her shoulders as she circled me like a predator sizing up its prey. 

“Not running yet, little girl?” she taunted.  I clenched my fists, my heart hammering. I wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.  

“I’m not the one who’s going to run,” I shot back. Her smirk faltered for half a second before she lunged at me.  

I barely dodged her fist, the rush of air brushing past my face. I countered with a quick jab to her ribs, just like Marco had taught me. But she recovered fast, grabbing my wrist before I could pull away.  

“Too slow,” she sneered before yanking me forward.  

I gasped as pain shot through my arm. She twisted my wrist, trying to unbalance me, but I reacted on instinct. I slammed my knee into her stomach.  

She grunted, releasing me as she stumbled back.  

I didn’t hesitate.  

I threw a punch—hard, fast. It connected with her jaw, the impact jolting through my knuckles. The crowd erupted into cheers.  

She staggered, eyes flashing with fury. 

“You little—”  She swung at me again. This time, I wasn’t fast enough.  Her fist collided with my side, knocking the breath from my lungs. I gasped, my vision blurring for a second as pain radiated through my ribs.  

But I didn’t fall.  

I wouldn’t fall.  

I forced myself to stay standing, gritting my teeth through the pain. She expected me to back down. To break.  

But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was stronger.  

She came at me again, but this time, I was ready. I ducked low, dodging her strike, and spun behind her. Before she could turn, I kicked the back of her knee, sending her crashing onto the mat.  

The crowd roared as she hit the ground.  

I didn’t wait. I climbed onto her back, wrapping my arm around her throat in a chokehold. She struggled, thrashing beneath me, but I held on, tightening my grip.  

Her movements became sluggish. Then weaker.  

And then—she went limp.  

The referee rushed forward, pulling me off her. He checked her pulse before lifting his arm and shouting, 

“Winner!”  

The crowd exploded.  

My chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as I stared down at my opponent.  

I had won. I had won. I turned, searching the crowd, and found Alessandro standing at the edge of the ring. He wasn’t cheering like the others, but his dark blue eyes burned with something fiercer.  

Pride.  I swallowed hard, my hands still shaking.  

I did it.  I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was fighting.  

And I wasn’t going to stop.  

Alessandro led me outside once the fight was over, his hand on the small of my back as we slipped through the underground club’s dark corridors.  

The air outside was crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of the fight ring. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my pulse.  

Alessandro stopped beside his car, turning to face me. His gaze swept over me, searching for injuries. 

“Are you hurt?”  I shook my head. 

“No.”  He frowned, eyes flicking to my side where her punch had landed. 

“You took a hit.”  

“I’ve had worse,” I muttered.  His expression darkened. 

“That doesn’t make it okay.”  I looked up at him, exhaustion settling into my bones. 

“Why did you bring me here, Alessandro?”  

“You needed this,” he said simply.  I scoffed. 

“You wanted me to fight?”  

“I wanted you to realize what you’re capable of.” His voice was calm, unwavering. “You’ve spent your life thinking you were weak. I needed you to see the truth.”  

I swallowed, my throat tight. “And what’s the truth?”  

He stepped closer, his fingers grazing my jaw. 

“You are not weak, Isabella. You never were.”  

Something inside me cracked at his words.  

For years, I had been told I was nothing. That I was powerless. That I was just a fragile omega meant to be used and discarded.  

But standing here, with Alessandro looking at me like I was something more, like I was worth something. I realized he was right.  I wasn’t weak.  

Not anymore.  

Alessandro’s fingers lingered on my skin before he finally pulled away. 

“Let’s go home.”  

Home.  

I hesitated for a second before nodding. For the first time, I didn’t dread going back.  

The drive was quiet.  

Alessandro didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. His presence was steady, unwavering, grounding me.  

I stared out the window, my thoughts spinning.  I had won my first real fight.  

I had faced fear, faced pain, and come out stronger.  

And yet, something still gnawed at me. Romanio.  

Nadia. Hell’s Pit.  

They were still out there. Still waiting.  No matter how much I trained, how much stronger I became, I knew they wouldn’t stop until they had me back.  

I turned to Alessandro. 

“Do you think they’re planning something?”  His grip on the steering wheel tightened. 

“They never stopped planning.”  A chill ran down my spine.  

“They won’t give up, Isabella,” he continued. “Romanio lost everything the moment I took you from him. He’ll do whatever it takes to get his revenge.”  I clenched my fists. 

“Then we stop him first.”  Alessandro glanced at me, his expression unreadable. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  I nodded. “I don’t want to wait for them to come for us. I want to end this.”  

For a long moment, he didn’t respond.  Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smirk.  

“I was hoping you’d say that.”  My heart pounded.  

This was it.  No more waiting. No more running.  

We were going to end this war before it started.