Chapter 12 – Isabella
ISABELLA
Istared at the ceiling and listened to Mira’s steady breathing beside me. The moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting strange shadows across our room. Luxurious prison or not, it was still a cage. And the sweltering heat didn’t help either.
My fingers twitched with the need to do something, anything. Lying here, waiting for whatever Grey had planned for me and Mira, before the arrival of my family, made my skin crawl.
I needed intel, needed to understand. But before that, I could do some snooping, find out the layout, the security patterns, potential escape routes.
Everything and anything.
Mira shifted in her sleep and threw her blanket off, mumbling something that sounded like trivia about crocodiles.
My throat tightened. She looked so young, so vulnerable. I had to protect her, which meant finding out exactly what we were dealing with.
After another ten minutes of Mira’s deep, rhythmic breathing and I silently slipped from the bed.
The marble floor was cool against my bare feet as I padded to the balcony doors.
They weren’t locked—either overconfidence or a calculated risk, assuming no one would attempt to climb down from this height.
Their mistake.
The warm night air caressed my skin as I stepped onto the balcony. Below, lemon trees swayed in the breeze, their citrusy scent filling the air. The drop was significant, but the abundant bougainvillea ranking along the wall should provide plenty of handholds.
Not that I was athletic by any means, and I hadn’t practiced it in the last couple of years, but if I had one superpower, it was sneaking out and hiding from guards. Those gymnastics lessons they’d forced on me as a child had proven to be useful after all.
Time to see what secrets this paradise prison was hiding.
I went to the side, swung my legs over the balcony railing, and searched for a solid foothold before committing my weight.
The rough surface of the wall scraped against my palms as I descended, using the thick vines for support.
My bare feet protested, but I ignored it.
Pain was temporary; being trapped was worse.
A guard passed below, his boots crunching on the gravel path. I froze, pressing myself as much against the wall and into the foliage as I could. Then I held my breath and waited until his footsteps faded.
Close one.
The night air carried voices from somewhere to my left. Shit. Just how many guards were out here this late at night?
Three more careful movements and my bare feet touched grass. I crouched in the shadows, scanning for the cameras I’d mentally cataloged this afternoon when the Zotov family escorted us here.
There—one by the lit fountain, another behind a fig tree. But between them lay a blind spot.
I slipped from shadow to shadow, cataloging every detail.
The compound sprawled across several acres, with the main building designed like a luxury resort—all clean lines and modern architecture—and most likely with modern security, as well.
The smaller separate buildings, like the one we, along with the Zotovs, were housed in, were sprawled across the area and kept in more modest aesthetics—idyllic and beautifully hidden beneath climbing plants and interspersed with lemon and fig trees, and all kinds of shrubbery.
Like a luxury hotel complex, seeing only security across the whole compound told another story.
Guards patrolled in precise patterns, too precise for regular hotel security.
Their physiques and movements suggested that they had undergone rigorous training.
The cameras were strategically placed—some obvious, others cleverly hidden in decorative elements.
I bet all of them had some IR capabilities as well as motion detection.
Whoever ran this place wanted people to know they were being watched while they maintained backup surveillance the people weren’t supposed to notice.
One of the nondescript buildings caught my attention. Despite its mundane appearance, it had more guards than the other structures. Interesting. I made a mental note to investigate it further when I had the chance.
Which was not right now.
Footsteps approached.
I pressed myself deep into the lush foliage and held my breath. The leaves rustled against my skin as two figures passed nearby.
“Ivan’s acting strange,” Nina’s—Zotov’s sister’s—voice carried clearly in the night air. “Did he really just meet her a couple of days ago? I’ve never seen him this protective of anyone who wasn’t family before.”
“You mean overprotective,” Anton replied with a snort. “Did you see how he practically growled at me and Roman when we tried to be friendly?”
“Keep your voice down,” Nina hissed while they stopped right in front of me.
I froze and even held my breath.
Nina continued, “If he finds out we’re gossiping about him—”
“What? He’ll glare at us some more?” Anton said. “Be for real, sis. We need him focused on the plan, not obsessed with some chick and hovering around her. If he gets too attached, it could ruin everything we’ve been working for.”
Nina sighed. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s never forgotten his priorities.”
Their voices faded as they continued down the path.
I remained frozen in place, ignoring the sweat building on my skin and the itchiness where leaves touched me.
But my mind was racing.
What plan were they talking about? And more importantly, why did Ivan’s apparent protectiveness threaten it?
And was it really protectiveness, or was he just hovering over me because it was his job and he didn’t trust me?
What were they really up to? And why would Zotov’s apparent interest in me—or who he thought was Mira—threaten whatever they had planned?
The compound suddenly felt more dangerous than before. Not just because of the guards and cameras but because of all the secrets lurking beneath its pristine surface. I hated secrets…if they weren’t my own.
Apropos secrets. Nina’s voice tugged at something in my memory again. I’d sworn I’d heard it before. It was the same sensation I’d had this afternoon when I met her for the first time. But that was impossible. When would I ever have crossed paths with Nina Zotov?
The Zotovs, from what I’ve overheard Vince and Matt talking, operated primarily in Europe, while my family’s territory was firmly on American soil.
Did I meet her on one of our vacations in Italy?
Because something about her presence felt familiar, like a hidden memory from the past, tucked away in some corner of my mind.
I waited until they disappeared around the corner before I wiped away the sweat running down my forehead which stung my eyes.
Where was this place? And what was up with this crazy heat?
From the flora and the architecture, I would say it was Mediterranean.
But I had no idea where this island was exactly.
And couldn’t there be at least a little bit of a breeze on this damn island?
I headed in the opposite direction from where the Zotovs disappeared, circled around, and ended up near the pool area.
From what I’d spotted earlier this afternoon, the pool itself wasn’t under surveillance, and there was a genuine blind spot in the security coverage behind the pool.
The cameras were positioned to catch anyone entering or exiting the pool area, but there was a small section near what looked like an equipment shed that seemed to fall into shadow.
My fingers itched to test that theory, but was it worth the risk?
Trying to get into one of the buildings and finding a computer would be more beneficial.
But since the compound’s security was tight, their computer systems would probably be professional-grade, as well.
I’d hacked into high-level corporate systems before, so with the right equipment and enough time, I would probably be able to do so.
Neither of which I had at my disposal right now. And one wrong move, and I’d alert everyone to my presence.
Still, who exactly was Grey? Who was he working for? Why did he have Zotov bring us here? And what was the Zotov family’s plan?
I needed answers, and I wasn’t going to get them sitting in that room playing the docile prisoner.
I wiped at the sweat on my forehead again. And that damn heat did not help me think at all.
I circled the building, then slipped into the pool area without triggering anything. The cameras were exactly where I remembered them, and with my bare feet, I moved in complete silence on the smooth tiles.
Until there were multiple voices approaching.
Shit. I looked around. No matter where I went, it would trigger the cameras.
The water looked serene, gleaming black and silver under the moonlight.
No cameras there. I would need to be careful not to get my head wound wet, though, and getting into the water would make some noise.
But the water was my best chance to stay hidden.
Ah, what the hell.
I looked down at myself, and before I could overthink it, I peeled off the tank top and shorts—courtesy of Mila Zotov—and hid them in a heap beneath a lounge chair by the pool’s edge. I slipped into the water as slow as I could with barely a splash, bare-ass naked.
When was the last time I’d done something this stupid?
At least if someone caught me, I could just pretend I was going for a night swim because I couldn’t sleep—something that was a lot harder to sell if I were fully clothed.
The coolness enveloped me, washing away the sticky heat and tension. For a moment, I felt weightless, free. Just me and the water and the stars above.
I held myself as close to the wall as possible and listened. What I wouldn’t give for a couple of strenuous laps, but serious swimming would be too noisy.
I listened to my heart beating fast. The voices seemed to be getting farther away now.