Chapter 159
Isabella clearly remembered that rough hand grabbing the back of her head, yanking it backward, and then cutting off her hair.
These past few days, every time Isabella woke up from a nightmare, she would curl up on the cold, hard bedboard, bury her face in her knees, and cry silently.
The tears weren't for pity; they were her body's most honest release of fear and pain.
Isabella hated her own stupidity, hated her weakness, and hated even more the group of lunatics who dragged her into this hell.
That afternoon, as she woke from yet another nightmare, her body still trembling slightly, the door was pushed open.
Isabella flinched hard, curling up like a frightened animal, her back pressed tightly against the cold wall, her swollen, red eyes fixed on the doorway.
It was Eva who came in.
She was still wearing those black tight pants and leather jacket, her dark brown hair tied back into a neat ponytail, her face showing no emotion, as if she wore a cold mask.
In her hand was a simple medical tray with iodine, cotton swabs, bandages, and a few white pills on it.
She walked in, closed the door behind her with a flick of her hand, and placed the tray on a wobbly wooden box nearby, her movements precise and without waste.
Then, Eva turned to Isabella, her deep green eyes like a frozen lake, completely still.
"Stay still," Eva said, her voice as cold and hard as she was, "time to change the dressing."
Isabella's heart was still pounding, but her survival instinct forced her to swallow her screams and urge to shrink away.
She looked at Eva, then at the supplies on the tray, bit her lower lip, and hesitantly stretched out her injured right hand.
Her right shoulder joint had been brutally dislocated and reset. Though there was no fracture, the ligaments and muscles were badly strained, swollen to a shocking degree, with large, frightening purple bruises on her skin. Even the slightest movement caused piercing pain.
Eva didn't waste words. She grabbed the iodine bottle, bit off the cap with her teeth, her actions skilled to the point of being almost savage.
She pulled Isabella's arm closer, dipped a cotton swab in the dark brown disinfectant, and pressed it onto the swollen wound without mercy.
Isabella gasped, her body jerking from the pain, tears instantly welling up in her eyes.
But she clenched her teeth hard, not letting a single cry escape her throat.
She knew that here, tears and begging wouldn't earn her any mercy; they would only excite her tormentors more.
Eva seemed slightly surprised by Isabella's endurance. She glanced up at her briefly, but her hands didn't ease up at all, quickly and roughly cleaning the dirt around the wound.
The disinfectant stung her broken skin, sending waves of burning pain through her.
In the silent room, the only sounds were the faint scrape of the cotton swab on skin and Isabella's rapid breathing.
The silence was almost suffocating.
Isabella looked at Eva's focused, lowered profile, her mind racing.
This was a chance, maybe the only one to build even a tiny connection with this seemingly cold woman.
She had to try.
Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke cautiously in a hoarse voice, "Eva, thank you."
Eva's movements paused for a moment, but she didn't look up.
"Thank you for saving me," Isabella gathered her courage to continue, her voice still shaky, "back then, if you hadn't stopped them, I might have been..."
She couldn't finish. The memory of those filthy hands and leering eyes flashed in her mind, making her stomach churn.
Eva finally stopped what she was doing.
She looked up, her deep green eyes meeting Isabella's, showing no warmth from the gratitude, only a cold indifference.
"I didn't save you."
"It was Barton. He said you must be kept intact, not a single hair missing."
"Of course, except for what he cut off himself." Eva's lips twitched into something close to a mocking smirk, "He said if you were really touched or got any permanent damage, Vitale would lose it completely, turning into a mindless beast that just wants to tear everything apart."
"And if that happens, all our plans, all our lives, could go down with it."
Eva lowered her head again, starting to apply a strong-smelling ointment to Isabella's skin, "I held you down and taught Aldo and the others a lesson only for the bigger picture, to stop those idiots who only think with their lower half from ruining the boss's carefully laid plans. So, don't thank me."
Her bandaging wasn't gentle. The bandage was wrapped tight and firm, pressing so hard that the skin around Isabella's wound turned pale, "And don't try to get close to me. I don't fall for that."
Isabella's heart sank.
The coldness and clear boundaries in Eva's words felt like an ice wall, brutally pushing back any attempt she made to reach out.
But Eva's last words gave her a tiny piece of crucial information.
She had a deep hatred for the mafia.
As Eva finished bandaging and picked up the pills and a cup of water from the tray to hand them over, Isabella didn't take them right away.
She looked up at Eva's back as she turned to leave and spoke again, her voice softer than before, carrying a desperate edge.
"Eva..."
Eva stopped but didn't turn around.
"I mean, if you're not busy..." Isabella licked her dry, cracked lips, "could you stay and talk with me? Just for a bit. It's too quiet here, and the silence scares me."
Eva slowly turned around.
Her gaze was sharp like a scalpel, instantly cutting through Isabella's careful facade.
"You want me to talk with you?" Eva's voice held no emotion, "Or do you want to dig for information? Like how to escape? Or if anyone out there is looking for you?"
Isabella's face flashed with panic as her intentions were exposed, but she forced herself to stay calm.
In front of a smart and cold woman like Eva, a clumsy act would only backfire.
"I know I can't escape," Isabella lowered her head, staring at her dirty pant legs, "I'm just really scared. The way those men look at me..."
She couldn't help but hug her arms tightly around herself.
Eva stared at her for a few seconds. Then, to Isabella's surprise, she came back, set the tray on the floor, pulled over the wooden chair, and sat down.
She crossed her arms over her knees, her posture carrying a sense of scrutiny.
"Aldo and the others won't touch you again," Eva answered Isabella's biggest fear directly, her tone firm, "The boss has already dealt with them. Here, Barton's word is like God's command."
"Anyone who disobeys gets God's punishment, and trust me, that's worse than death. So, as long as you're still useful, you're safe."
Isabella let out a small breath of relief, but the tension didn't fully leave her.
Safety was only temporary. Her value depended entirely on Vitale's reaction, and living on the edge of a knife didn't feel good.
"Yes, thank you," Isabella said quietly, this time with a bit more sincerity, "You saw through me, but I don't mean any harm. I just really want to know..."
She hesitated, seeming to choose her words carefully, then looked up, bravely meeting Eva's icy gaze, "I know asking this might make you angry, but I can't help it. Eva, your family, how did they..."
She didn't finish, but her meaning was clear.
She wanted to touch the root of Eva's hatred.
Eva's pupils contracted slightly, almost imperceptibly, and her crossed fingers tightened a little.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop even further.