Chapter 26 – Isabella #2
To decrypt the password would take time—time we didn’t have.
“What would obsessive, controlling Grey use as a password for files about my mother?”
“You asking me? Something about his love for her, or her betrayal, perhaps?” Nina answered.
I looked around his desk. There was nothing but one picture frame of Grey in front of the Eiffel Tower, wearing a green T-shirt with Paris, the Eiffel Tower, and coordinates on it.
My mother had owned that exact same T-shirt.
I grabbed the frame, opened it, and took out the folded photo. And sure enough, there was my mother right next to Grey, equally smiley as Grey, wearing the same green shirt Grey did.
“Fuck me.”
Nina showed up behind me. “What?”
“That’s my mom,” I whispered, barely able to comprehend it myself.
“Try Paris,” Nina said before moving back to her guard position. “Or Eiffel Tower.”
I tried “Paris,” which didn’t work, then “Paris” followed by the coordinates on the T-shirt—a complete shot in the dark.
The folder unlocked.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, horror washing over me.
The contents revealed Grey’s decades-long obsession with my mother with surveillance photos spanning years—my mother shopping, at charity events, playing with us as children.
Journal entries detailing his thoughts about her.
Meticulous maps of her movements. Most disturbing were intimate photos—my mother in private moments with my father—which was just plain gross.
Photos that could only have been taken with hidden cameras in their bedroom.
“This is beyond sick,” I whispered, feeling the need to throw up. “He was completely obsessed with her.”
“And you by proxy?” Nina, who had crossed the room and now stood next to the window, glanced over her shoulder, concern in her eyes. “What did you find?”
“Grey’s fixation on my mother. It’s…disturbing.” I continued copying everything, then noticed another folder labeled with my own name.
The contents were equally horrifying. But the very first thing in my file was two numbers and a date.
A date a week after my Nonno died, when I was eight.
A day I hadn’t thought about in years. But a day I would probably never forget.
“We need to wrap up,” Nina said.
I flew over the rest of the document. Surveillance dating back to my childhood.
Psychological profiles crafted by professionals who’d never met me.
School reports. Hacked medical records, including details of a shoulder injury I’d sustained at thirteen.
There were even files detailing my dating history, complete with photos of me with friends and casual hookups.
My hands shook as I copied everything. “God, he’s gross.”
The extent of Grey’s surveillance was staggering. He’d been watching me for years, collecting data, building a profile. There were notes about my skills, my personality, everything. And it all started on that one day.
I scrolled back to the beginning, copied the first number, and searched for it.
Two directories appeared. I opened the first one.
It looked similar to the records we’d found in the Paraskia Syndicate’s database earlier.
I opened the first file, and it was a case report of how the Paraskia Syndicate took out an underground fighting ring in Moscow and found a bunch of children who were forced to fight and held in basements like animals.
Holy shit.
“How is this even possible?” I muttered.
These were the kids I’d seen, the ones I’d reported.
I hadn’t thought about it for years.
I’d been eight when I’d slipped that piece of paper with the website address to that police officer.
I never knew what happened afterward, if anything ever happened.
Nobody ever mentioned it again, and years later, I wasn’t even entirely sure if it wasn’t just something I’d made up.
Like other people made up invisible friends.
Well, apparently not.
But what if?
I went back and opened the second search result.
In the beginning, this file looked like a replica of the other one but only at the beginning because what came next was nothing like the first file. There were lists of bank accounts, financial records, IP addresses, and onion links.
Nina suddenly tensed at the window, where she’d been checking the grounds with a pair of binoculars.
“We need to go. Now,” she said urgently.
“What is it?”
“There’s been a super-yacht approaching the island. And smaller boats are already heading to shore. I guess they’re sitting out the weather, but it looks like Grey’s helicopter on the heli-pad.”
I glanced at the file transfer—95% complete. “It’s too early. Grey wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”
“Well, tough luck,” Nina insisted, her voice tight. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t follow an itinerary. We gotta go.”
I added the two files to the download. Then reassembled the picture frame while I waited for the download to finish. Once the transfer was completed, I disconnected the drive, erased all traces of our presence from the system, and secured the drive in my pocket.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
We moved as quickly as we could and retraced our steps to the tunnel, but instead of searching for the door to the maintenance tunnel, we headed right towards the light at the other end of this smaller tunnel.
It wouldn’t matter where we got out—as long as we got out undetected. My heart beat in my throat, and just as we reached the end, voices echoed from right outside.
Nina pulled me back and pressed both of us against the wall beside the tunnel entrance.
“Arrangements are complete. The board will hopefully be satisfied with your explanation.”
Grey’s voice. He was here. And he wasn’t alone.
The voices grew louder as they approached our position.
Oh my God, if they entered the tunnel, they would immediately stumble over us.
“Should we go back?” I whispered.
Nina shook her head.
I held my breath and stared at the light, waiting for the moment their shadows would cloud the entrance.
One second, two.
…And they went past us.
Thank God.
We waited a little, and I almost got my heart rate back under control, when Nina moved to the exit and pulled me with her.
She checked carefully before we emerged from the tunnel and were right at one of the walkways connecting the buildings to each other. Nina linked arms with me, and we pretended to be on a stroll around the compound.
“We need to find the others,” I whispered, the flash drive clutched tightly in my hand. “Before Grey—”
“Too late,” Nina muttered.
We rounded a corner, and I could hear voices—lots of them. We approached cautiously to find everyone gathered smack dab in our way, still next to the Jeeps.
Obviously, the men had returned from the airstrip, and standing among them were Grey and…
Uncle Marcus.
My stomach dropped, and a violent shiver ran over my back as memories flooded back—his hands on my thigh, his breath against my neck, the terror I’d felt as a child next to him on that sofa, or locked in a bathroom to avoid him whenever I knew in advance he was coming to visit.
But nothing could erase the memory of the way he’d stolen glances at me at family gatherings for years.
Thinking about it still made me want to scrub my skin raw.
Grey and he were standing with their backs to us. I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, had purposely avoided any event where he might’ve been present, but I would recognize him anywhere.
And now he was here, on this island—with Grey.
Coincidence—probably not.
There was a lump in my throat that hindered me from taking a full breath. A tidal wave of panic threatened to drown me, and my surroundings seemed to close in as black spots danced in my vision.
Nina closed her hand around mine and squeezed tightly.
I pulled my eyes away from his back and side-eyed her.
She raised one eyebrow. She could tell something was wrong, even if she didn’t understand what.
“Focus,” she mouthed silently.
I fought for control, using every technique I’d learned over years of therapy. Slow breath in. Hold. Slow breath out. Focus on something concrete—I squeezed my hand around the flash drive in my hand. This was what was important. My family. Her family.
Nina looked at me, questions in her eyes, but I shook my head. Not that I could tell her what was wrong. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But there was no way to avoid them now.
Nina and I exchanged glances. She didn’t let go of my hand, which somehow gave me the strength to at least act normal.
Grey was speaking—something about the storm making evacuation impossible now, but I could barely focus on his words. I slipped my hand with the small hard drive into my pocket.
Then I steeled myself but struggled to pull myself together. The panic still clawed at my throat, but I pushed it down, compartmentalized, pretending as if nothing was wrong. And nothing was. I was safe; I wasn’t a child anymore. And I wasn’t alone.
But no matter how much I told myself that, no matter how much I logically knew, every nerve in my body still screamed danger.
How was Uncle Marcus even here? How were Grey and Marcus working together? And what about our plans?
As if the weather was underlining my thoughts, there was lightning, directly followed by thunder.
There would be no getting off the island now.
“Vince, Matt, nice to see you again,” Uncle Marcus said smoothly, interrupting Grey. “Alfredo’s boys, all grown up. What a coincidence.”
Coincidence, my ass. I must’ve scoffed.
Because Marcus whipped around, and his gaze landed on us—on me. Recognition flashed in his eyes, followed by a half smile that made my skin crawl.
My brothers stiffened almost imperceptibly. Nobody but Mira knew what Marcus had tried to do to me—had done, even if we’d never spoken of it directly.
I pulled my eyes away from Uncle Marcus and looked at Ivan. The moment our eyes connected, something shifted in his expression. There was no coldness, no professional distance now—just a question in his eyes.
Where were you?
He openly stared at me for a couple of seconds, then his eyebrows furrowed, and his expression changed into naked concern.
What’s wrong?
What was it with those Zotovs? First Nina and now him? I didn’t say a word, but somehow, he read my terror like it was written across my face. His gaze flicked to Grey, then Marcus, then back to me, eyes narrowing slightly.
Grey or him? Is he a threat?
I gave him the slightest shrug, almost imperceptible.
But Ivan’s jaw tightened, his posture shifting subtly from casual to combat-ready.
I’m here.
This silent communication should have been impossible between us. We’d known each other for days, not years. Our families were enemies who entered a temporary truce. Yet in this moment, he could read me; we read each other perfectly, like we’d been doing this dance our whole lives.
I realized right this moment that whatever had grown between us wasn’t just physical attraction, a one-night stand, or a circumstantial alliance. It was something deeper, more instinctive—a recognition of similar souls. Something I wasn’t ready to let go so easily.
Before I could process this revelation, Mira appeared with the other girls, laughing about something until she caught sight of our visitor. Her expression froze, then hardened into something I rarely saw on my gentle twin’s face: pure hatred.
Without hesitation, she moved to my side, her shoulder pressing against mine in silent solidarity. Her hand found mine and squeezed once, hard.
“How…?” she whispered, barely audible.
I shrugged.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded again and squeezed back, grateful beyond words for her presence. “I am.”
Mira knew. She was the only one who truly understood what Marcus represented—the nightmares, the panic attacks, the unhealthy coping mechanisms. No words were needed between us; we’d perfected our own silent language long before I’d learned to communicate with Ivan.
With Mira on one side and Nina still on the other, I straightened my spine even more. The panic receded, replaced by something stronger. And it finally sank in. I wasn’t a helpless child anymore. And I wasn’t alone.
Marcus’s eyes moved between Mirabella and me, a small smile playing on his lips. “And which one of you was Isabella again? I always had a soft spot for her.”
That smile was all it took, and my world tilted sideways. My vision narrowed to a tunnel, overwhelming my senses as past and present collided violently. The hard drive with the evidence weighed a ton in my pocket as I struggled to stay in the present moment, to not let the past overwhelm me.
I was vaguely aware of Vince growling and Ivan taking a step toward me, concern flashing across his face, but Mira moved between us, instinctively protective.
The next thing I knew, I was being led away by a group of women—Mira, Cara, Fee, Nina, and Mila—their voices a distant murmur compared to the roaring in my ears.
As we turned the corner, two thoughts cut through the fog of terror and went on repeat:
He can’t be here. Not him. Anyone but him.
and
I should be over it. His presence shouldn’t trigger me this much.
But there was still one fact I couldn’t deny as much as I wanted to.
Some monsters hide in plain sight. Mine wore Italian suits and called himself “Uncle.”