Chapter 23 - Isabella
The chill seeps into my bones.
I wake slowly, my head pounding, my body aching from the rough handling of Delgado’s men. The stench of mildew and damp stone fills my nostrils, making my stomach churn. The air in the room is stale, almost rotten—the ghosts of the past still lingering in this place.
A castle, they called it. Once grand, maybe. Now, nothing but decay and dust, walls that have witnessed too much bloodshed. And if Samuel gets his way tonight, it won’t stop.
My wrists are bound, the rope cutting into my skin. I don’t panic. Panic is for people who have a way out. I test the binds, feeling the give in the knots—not much, but something to work with.
A slow chuckle echoes from the shadows.
“You’re awake.”
Samuel Delgado steps forward, his movements slow, a predator savoring the moment before the kill. The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. Not with fear, but with revulsion.
“Your men hit like cowards,” I bite out, lifting my chin despite the pounding in my skull. “Didn’t have the balls to fight me properly?”
He grins, dark amusement glinting in his sharp eyes. “Oh, you’re exactly as he likes them, aren’t you?”
I don’t ask who. We both know.
Dominic.
Samuel circles me, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. “I have to admit, I underestimated you. I thought Castellano’s weakness would be his empire, his men, his money.” He stops behind me, his breath too close to my ear. “But it’s you.”
I refuse to flinch. I won’t give him that.
He moves in front of me again, crouching to eye level. “Did you know he’d burn the whole city down for you?” His head tilts. “I wonder if he knows how stupid that makes him.”
I smirk. “If you think love makes him weak, you don’t know Dominic Castellano.”
Samuel’s smile is sharp, but there’s a hint of irritation beneath it. I got to him.
His hand snakes forward, fingers gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me, Isabella,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. “How does it feel, knowing he’ll die because of you?”
My stomach knots. Not because I believe him, but because Dominic is coming.
And I don’t know if he’ll make it out alive.
Samuel laughs at my horror. “That’s right. He’s coming. Rushing straight into my trap, just like I planned.” He brushes a finger over my cheek, and I jerk away in disgust.
His fingers tighten around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes gleam with vengeance.
“And when he does?” His voice lowers, like a promise of death. “You’re going to watch him die.”
I glare at him, fighting against the creeping fear coiling in my gut. “Why are you doing this?” I demand, my voice sharp, filled with the anger bubbling beneath my skin. “Just because he took some money from you?”
Samuel’s lips curve into a wicked smirk before he lets out a deep, mocking laugh. He releases my chin, straightening to his full height. “Oh, Isabella.” He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You really think this is about money?”
I narrow my eyes, my breath coming short. “Then what is this about?”
He steps away, hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks. “This war has been going on for years… decades.” His voice shifts, no longer teasing but laced with resentment. “Did you know my grandfather was his mother’s father?”
I stiffen. “Wait… what?” My head shakes slightly as if trying to clear the absurdity of what I just heard. “You’re telling me… you and Dominic are—”
“Related?” he finishes for me, tilting his head with that ever-present smirk. Then, it darkens. “Yes.”
I blink, trying to grasp the full impact of what he just said.
“Dominic’s mother hurt my grandfather too much,” he continues, voice smooth, but there’s something venomous coiling beneath it. “She betrayed him, shamed him, and in his final breath, you know what his dying wish was?”
I don’t answer.
“Revenge.”
A slow, chilling realization sinks into my bones.
“This isn’t about power,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t about money or control. This is about… family?”
Samuel chuckles. “It always is.”
The room suddenly feels too small, too suffocating. I stare at him, searching his face for a hint of hesitation, a crack in his unwavering confidence.
“Are you… tired of it?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Samuel’s laughter bursts from his lips, genuine, amused, and chilling all at once.
“How can I get tired of shedding blood?” he says, shaking his head like I asked a ridiculous question. “This is all I’ve ever known. This is all he’s ever known.”
I swallow hard. “But don’t you see how pointless it is? It’s been decades. It started with your grandfather, but you—” I exhale sharply, eyes locked onto his. “You’re keeping it alive.”
His smirk fades slightly.
A flicker of doubt? No. Resignation.
Samuel tilts his head, studying me with an almost regretful expression. Then, he lets out a slow breath and steps closer, towering over me again.
“A world doesn’t exist where both of us are alive, Isabella,” he says, his voice smoother now, certain. “We are the last players left in this game. And I am tired of playing.”
His eyes darken further, and his fingers flex at his sides, as if he can already feel the blood on his hands.
“It’s about time,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “I get rid of him.”
A sharp chill runs through me.
Because for the first time since I’ve met Samuel Delgado, I realize—this isn’t about winning.
This is about ending it.
One way or another.
Suddenly, the room goes dark. Everything stops.
The single flickering bulb overhead blinks once, twice—then dies, plunging us into pitch-blackness.
For a heartbeat, silence claws at the air, thick and heavy. Even Samuel tenses, his posture shifting as his head snaps toward the door.
Then—chaos erupts.
A thunderous explosion of gunfire shatters the eerie quiet, sending tremors through the very walls of the crumbling castle. Men shout, the sharp cracks of bullets ripping through the thick stone corridors, followed by the sickening thuds of bodies hitting the floor.
My pulse skyrockets, fear tightening around my throat.
Dominic is here.
He’s here, and he’s fighting his way through hell to get to me.
Samuel curses, low and vicious, his grip tightening on my arm as he yanks me toward him. His jaw locks, frustration radiating from every inch of his body.
"Son of a bitch," he snarls under his breath. His hand jerks toward the gun at his hip.
More gunfire. More screams. The metallic scent of blood laces the air, creeping in from the hallway like a warning.
I suck in a breath, my hands trembling against my restraints. The sound is deafening, the kind of violence that doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left to kill.
I brace myself.
The power outage wasn’t a coincidence. Dominic planned this. He knew he’d have to fight his way in, and he’s doing exactly that.
Samuel’s eyes flick toward the door again. His mind is racing—I can see it in the tension lining his face, the way his lips press into a hard, thin line.
He’s worried.
And for the first time since I was dragged into this nightmare, I see it—doubt.
The great Samuel Delgado, cartel prince, untouchable executioner, the man who swore he’d kill Dominic and make me watch—
He’s afraid.
The realization hits me like a jolt of electricity.
"He's coming for me," I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
Samuel's grip tightens painfully around my wrist. His dark eyes snap to mine.
He recovers fast, but not fast enough.
He forces a smirk, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Then I guess we should give him a proper welcome, shouldn't we?"
He yanks me up by the arm, dragging me toward the hallway. I stumble, but I keep pace, forcing myself to stay alert. There will be a moment to strike. I just have to wait for it.
We climb higher, up the crumbling staircase, toward a grand, decaying room with shattered windows.
Samuel’s grip doesn’t relax as he hauls me forward, pressing the cold steel of a gun under my jaw. My pulse hammers in my throat, my breath uneven as he shoves me into the center of the dimly lit room. The ruined walls of the abandoned castle loom around us like the skeleton of a beast, the shattered windows allowing a frigid night breeze to slither in.
Then—Dominic’s voice.
"Let. Her. Go."
The world shrinks.
I twist sharply, my breath catching.
Dominic stands in the ruined doorway, blood staining his shirt, his gun raised, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a fury I’ve never seen before. His presence alone is a storm barely contained, his body thrumming with the promise of violence and vengeance.
For the first time, Samuel looks uncertain.
“Dominic,” I breathe.
Samuel's grip tightens painfully, regaining his arrogance, and a slow, cruel smile spreads across his lips. He chuckles, the sound dripping with mockery.
"Well, well. You made it." He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "I have to say, I almost didn’t think you’d be this predictable."
Dominic doesn’t look at him.
His eyes never leave me.
I see the unspoken questions there. Are you hurt? Are you okay?
I barely manage the faintest nod, my body too stiff, too wound tight with terror.
Samuel’s gun digs deeper into my skin.
"Here’s what’s going to happen, Castellano," Samuel continues, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "You’re going to put that gun down, and you’re going to watch while I put a bullet through her pretty little head."
My heart seizes.
Dominic doesn’t pull back. Not even a little.
His grip on his gun is steady, his face carved from stone, but I see it—the raw fury burning beneath his icy exterior.
And then, his lips curl into a smirk.
A smirk.
My breath hitches.
I know that look.
It's the look that means Samuel Delgado is already dead.
Samuel’s amusement falters, just slightly. His fingers twitch against the trigger, his confidence wavering.
Dominic finally speaks.
"You talk too much."
Samuel’s expression darkens instantly. "You think this is a joke?"
Dominic tilts his head slightly, as if considering. Then—he laughs. A deep, low chuckle, smooth and controlled.
And that makes Samuel furious.
"You’re just a coward," Samuel snarls, his voice dripping with hatred. "Like the rest of your family before they were killed."
The moment the words leave his mouth, the air in the room changes.
There’s a subtle but lethal shift in Dominic’s stance.
The way his grip tightens on his gun. The way his jaw ticks. The way his eyes go completely, utterly void of anything but death.
Samuel knows he’s made a mistake.
Dominic exhales slowly, like a man who has just made a final decision. Then, without looking away, he nods.
At me.
My stomach twists. It’s subtle, a flick of his chin, but I understand.
Move. Now.
I don’t think.
I slam my elbow into Samuel’s ribs, driving it in with every ounce of strength left in my body.
He grunts, stumbling back, and in that single moment of distraction—I rip the knife from his belt.
Samuel’s shock turns into rage, but I don’t let him recover. I twist in his hold, my arm slashing out—cutting deep across his forearm.
Samuel screams.
I drop to the ground.
Dominic fires.
The gunshot rips through the air, the blast echoing off the crumbling walls.
Samuel staggers backward, his body jolting from the impact. His breath chokes off in a garbled, wet gasp, his eyes widening.
One.
Dominic doesn’t stop moving. He advances, each step slow, measured, deadly.
Samuel clutches at his chest, his fingers coming away slick with blood. His knees buckle, and for the first time—he looks afraid.
Another shot.
The bullet slams into his stomach, tearing through him, sending him crashing against the shattered window.
Two.
Blood paints the stone floor, a deep crimson spreading beneath him. His breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, his mouth opening and closing, but no words come.
Dominic reaches him in three steps.
Samuel's back hits the glass, his head lolling slightly, his body convulsing from the pain. His chest heaves, his face going pale, sweat dripping down his temples.
He tries to lift his gun.
Dominic kicks it away.
And then—he presses the muzzle of his gun directly against Samuel’s forehead.
Samuel stares up at him, dazed, his lips trembling. His breathing is a wet, shuddering mess. Blood drips from his lips.
Dominic tilts his head.
"This is for my family."
He pulls the trigger.
Three.
The final shot tears through Samuel’s skull, his body jerking violently before it collapses into a crumpled heap.
Samuel Delgado is dead.
I suck in a sharp breath, my pulse still racing, my body frozen on the cold stone floor.
Blood seeps into the cracks of the ancient castle, staining it, claiming it.
I force myself to breathe. To believe it’s over.
Then—Dominic turns to me.
His expression softens. He moves fast, dropping to one knee, his hands gripping my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. His eyes drink me in, frantic, searching.
"Are you hurt?" His voice is rough, thick with emotion.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
His hands tighten. "Are you sure?"
I nod, my breathing still uneven. "I—I’m okay."
Dominic closes his eyes for half a second, exhaling sharply, his shoulders sagging.
Then—his eyes snap back open, pure, unrelenting fury flashing in them.
"I thought—" He swallows, his jaw clenched so tightly it trembles. "I thought I was going to lose you."
My own breath is shaky. "You shouldn’t have come."
Dominic’s eyes blaze. "I will always come for you."
And then, he kisses me.
It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, raw, possessive—a clash of lips and tongues and everything we almost lost tonight. I clutch onto him, my fingers tangling in his bloodstained shirt, and he grips my waist like he can’t bear to let go.
The taste of blood, sweat, and survival lingers between us.
His forehead presses against mine, his breath warm, steady, grounding. His fingers stroke the curve of my jaw, reassuring, possessive in their own way.
But as the adrenaline slowly seeps from my veins, reality creeps back in.
Samuel is dead.
But his shadow isn’t gone.
His body lies motionless, a crimson pool spreading beneath him, his face frozen in the shock of his final moment. The man who swore vengeance, the man who lived his life to kill Dominic… is nothing but a lifeless husk now.
And yet—the tightness in my chest doesn’t ease.
I pull back slightly, my gaze darting to Samuel’s corpse, my heart tightening with unease. I thought I would be relieved.
But instead, there’s a different feeling creeping in.
Dread.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. Killing Samuel was the right thing… but was it the smart thing?
I glance up at Dominic, my voice quieter now, hesitant. "What's going to happen now?"
His expression doesn’t change. He follows my gaze, looking at Samuel's lifeless body, his jaw tightening slightly before he exhales. Steady. Unwavering. Unbothered.
"Whatever happens," he murmurs, his voice deep, resolute, "we’ll deal with it together."
His words anchor me.
He isn’t shaken. He isn’t hesitating. He isn’t planning an escape or second-guessing his choices.
Because this is who he is.
Dominic Castellano doesn’t fear the consequences.
He owns them.
He sees the war coming before it even begins. And he’s already prepared to fight it.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around his.
"Together," I echo.
His lips twitch into a small smile, but there’s exhaustion behind it.
Dominic grips my hand, leading me away.
We step over Samuel’s lifeless body without a second glance, leaving the past burning behind us.
And for the first time, I know—
We survived.
But the war isn’t over.