Chapter 16 A Mother’s Fear
Isabella's mother's POV
The phone rang too late.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Nothing good ever arrived after dark — not in their world, not in this city that remembered blood longer than it remembered joy. Isabella’s mother sat up in bed the moment the sound cut through the quiet, her heart already racing before her hand reached the receiver.
She knew.
She didn’t know how, or why — but she knew.
“Hello?” Her voice came out too sharp, already breaking.
There was a pause.
Then her daughter’s voice.
“Mom.”
The sound of it nearly took her knees out from under her.
Isabella’s mother pressed the phone closer to her ear, gripping it so tightly her fingers hurt. “Isabella? Oh my God—where have you been? Are you alright? Why didn’t you—”
“I’m okay,” Isabella said quickly. Too quickly. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m fine.”
Fine.
The word echoed wrong.
Her daughter sounded… careful. Like she was choosing every word before letting it leave her mouth. Like someone was standing just out of sight, listening.
“Sweetheart,” her mother whispered, fear crawling up her spine, “where are you?”
Another pause.
“I can’t say.”
The room tilted.
“Why not?” she asked, already knowing the answer she didn’t want.
“I’m safe,” Isabella insisted, her voice tightening. “Please believe me.”
But her mother heard it then — the small hitch in her breath. The way her voice trembled, just barely, like she was holding something back with both hands.
Tears.
Isabella was crying.
Her heart seized.
“Isabella, are you alone?” she asked, forcing calm she didn’t feel. “You can tell me. I won’t say anything.”
“I really have to go,” Isabella said softly. “I just wanted you to know I’m okay.”
“No,” her mother said desperately. “No, don’t hang up—”
“I love you,” Isabella whispered.
The line went dead.
Her mother stared at the phone in her hand, her reflection staring back at her from the dark screen — pale, hollow-eyed, terrified.
She pressed the phone to her chest as if that could bring her daughter closer.
She was crying.
That was all she could hear now.
The room felt too small. The walls too close. The memories came fast and merciless.
Another phone call, years ago.
Another voice saying don’t worry.
Another lie spoken out of fear.
She remembered her brother’s face the last time she’d seen him. Remembered the way he’d smiled like nothing could touch him.
They buried him three days later.
She couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t stop to dress properly. Didn’t stop to think. She grabbed her coat with shaking hands, keys clattering to the floor as she dropped them once, twice, before finally managing to unlock the door.
The drive blurred into panic.
She barely remembered getting there — only the sound of tires screeching as she stopped, the guards startled as she pushed past them, screaming her son’s name.
Marco.
She burst into his office without knocking.
Marco looked up sharply, already on his feet — and then he saw her.
Her knees buckled.
She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“She called me,” she sobbed, clutching his shirt like she was drowning. “She called me, Marco—she was crying. She was trying so hard not to cry.”
His body went rigid.
“She said she was fine,” her mother continued, words tumbling out between gasps. “She said she was safe, but she wouldn’t tell me where she was. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.”
Marco’s jaw clenched, muscles tightening beneath his skin.
“I heard it,” she cried. “I heard it in her voice. She’s scared. Someone is making her afraid.”
He said nothing.
That terrified her more than shouting ever could.
“I’ve heard that voice before,” she whispered, gripping his arm. “I heard it the night we lost—” Her voice broke completely. “I won’t lose her too. I won’t bury another family member. Not another person that I love. I have lost so much.”
Something dark and lethal settled behind Marco’s eyes.
He eased her into a chair gently, but his hands were no longer steady. They were already shaking with contained fury.
“She called you,” he said slowly. “That means she was allowed.”
Her mother nodded frantically. “Exactly. Exactly. They let her call just long enough to keep us quiet.”
Marco straightened.
The room seemed to shrink around him.
“I swear to you,” he said, voice low and deadly calm, “whoever is behind all this will pay with his blood and his family’s blood. I will make sure he sees the destruction — and that he will be begging me to kill him.”
He turned away, already reaching for the phone on his desk.
He called the one number he thought he never would. A dark deep voice answered on the first ring. "Is it time?" he asked
"It has began"