Chapter 28 – Isabella #2
Cara nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Her sundress clung to her slim frame, soaked through by the rain. “Cristo says I’m stronger than I think.” She smiled. “But I’m really not brave. I’m really not strong.”
“Being afraid and not being brave or strong are not the same thing,” I replied, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.
“You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing.
You’re compassionate, you laugh, and you care.
You put your life on hold to help your sister with her new baby.
All of this tells me you are strong. You didn’t give up; you didn’t let what happened to you define who you are or how you show up in life—that’s the only kind of bravery that matters. ”
She gave me a small, grateful smile that transformed her face. “That’s almost exactly what Cristo told me. He said real courage isn’t about not being afraid—it’s about being terrified and marching on anyway.”
“My cousin is a smart guy,” I said, returning her smile. “Irritating, but smart.”
She laughed softly, the sound unexpected and genuine. “He is irritating, isn’t he? And yet…”
“And yet you can’t take your eyes off him,” I finished for her.
A blush crept up her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”
Yes, it was; of course it was.
“Female intuition,” I said, or maybe it was only obvious to someone who was in the exact same situation. I just wished Ivan would openly look at me like Cristo looked at Cara.
Fuck this distance thing. Fuck that enemy shit with my brother. From my perspective Ivan was pretty fucking perfect, at least for right now, and I would for sure not wait around for someone else to weigh in on my love life, especially not Vince.
Cara studied me for a moment. “Are you thinking about Ivan Zotov?” she asked tentatively.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak about him right now, not before I set the record straight with him.
“He looks at you differently than he looks at anyone else,” she murmured. “Like the hero in a romance novel who is completely smitten with the FMC.”
The insight surprised me—I hadn’t realized Cara was so perceptive…or that he looked at me like that. “It’s complicated,” I said lamely.
“It always is, isn’t it?” she replied with unexpected wisdom.
I’d rarely spoken with Cara one on one before, and I found myself wishing we’d had more chances to get to know each other. There was a depth to her I appreciated—a quiet intelligence that reminded me of my twin.
The distant sound of helicopters suddenly cut through the rumble of thunder. We both looked up, squinting through the rain that was now falling steadily. Five military-style helicopters flew low over the water, heading directly toward us.
“That can’t be good,” I said, scanning the sky. Those weren’t commercial helicopters—they were the kind used for tactical operations.
Cara tensed beside me, her momentary ease vanishing. “Should we go back to the others?”
I nodded, suddenly even more aware of how exposed and alone we were out here. “Come on.”
We stepped carefully off the pier onto the beachwalk.
The wind had picked up, stinging my exposed skin on the path back to the compound.
That’s when I heard it—voices approaching. Male voices, low and urgent.
I grabbed Cara’s arm, pulling her to a stop. “Wait,” I whispered, straining to hear over the rain.
But it was too late. Figures appeared on the path—blocking our way back to the compound.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I recognized the silhouettes: Grey’s distinctive posture and beside him, the taller frame of Uncle Marcus.
“Shit,” I breathed, tightening my grip on Cara’s arm. “We need to go another way.”
But it was too late. They’d spotted us.
“Well, who do we have here?” Grey’s voice cut through the downpour as they approached, accompanied by several armed men. The smile on his face made my skin crawl. “Perfect timing. We were just talking about insurance.”
I instinctively stepped in front of Cara, but we were quickly surrounded by men with expressionless faces and rain-slicked weapons. My mind raced through escape options, calculated distances and angles, but the odds were impossible. The sea behind us, armed men in front—we were trapped.
Uncle Marcus had hung back slightly. He looked at me with that jovial smile that transported me instantly back to childhood. The fear I’d decided, just moments ago, I had conquered, roared back to life, paralyzing me where I stood.
But being afraid didn’t mean I wasn’t strong.
My throat closed. My heart pounded so hard, I could feel it in my fingertips. A cold sweat broke out across my body despite the warm rain, and for a moment, the world around me seemed to dim at the edges.
Grey’s guys grabbed Cara and me roughly by the arms. “You’ll come with me, little princess,” Grey said to me.
The phrase triggered something deep inside me—memories of Marcus using those exact words. My body froze, muscles locking in place as if I were eight years old again, trapped and helpless. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the primal terror flooding my system.
Marcus approached slowly, his expensive leather shoes soaked through. “Let’s go.”