Chapter 30 – Isabella
ISABELLA
Uncle Marcus’s cologne—the same after all these years—invaded my senses, threatening to overwhelm me. My breathing turned shallow. My vision narrowed. Part of me wanted to run screaming into the ocean, to let the waves take me rather than endure his presence ever again.
But Cara—they had Cara. I couldn’t leave her. Her wide eyes found mine, terrified and pleading, as Grey’s fingers dug into her arm.
I forced air into my lungs, fought against the panic. Three breaths. That’s what Dr. Steinman had taught me. Three deep breaths to reset the system.
One. I am no longer eight years old. The air tasted of salt and rain as I inhaled deeply.
Two. I’ve survived worse than this. My hands steadied as oxygen flooded my system.
Three. I am Isabella fucking Salvini, the hacker Iset, and I will not break.
Somehow, that was enough to push back the edges of panic.
Time seemed to slow as I assessed my options. I could try to fight, but the armed men would overpower me in seconds, and even if by some miracle, I escaped, Cara would be alone with these monsters.
Or I could go quietly and watch for opportunities. Stay alive. Stay alert. Find a way out for both of us.
“Such a pleasant surprise finding you ladies out here,” Grey said, his voice silky with false concern. “But incredibly stupid. It’s dangerous to be exposed during a storm of this magnitude.”
The dishonesty in his voice was so transparent, it would have been laughable in any other circumstance. I found my voice, forcing it past the tightness in my throat. “Our families are expecting us back.”
“I’m sure they are,” Grey replied with mock sympathy. “Unfortunately, the current situation requires some…adjustments to our arrangements. You’ll both be coming with us as a precautionary measure.”
Cara’s eyes met mine, wide with terror, as Grey dragged her toward one of the boats. Her fear of water made this a special kind of cruelty. I could see her chest rising and falling rapidly, panic setting in as she realized where they intended to take her.
“It’s going to be okay,” I called to her, injecting more confidence into my voice than I felt. “Just do what they say for now. I’ll be right next to you.”
As Marcus grabbed my arm, I forced myself not to flinch, drawing on a core of strength I’d been building since childhood. I thought of that fighting boy—maybe Ivan—and his refusal to break despite impossible odds.
If he could survive, so could I.
“Such a brave girl,” Marcus murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re just like your mother.”
My stomach turned at the comparison, but I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my disgust. “Where are you taking us?”
“Somewhere safe,” Grey answered from ahead. “Until we resolve our current…situation.”
They led us toward separate boats, and a new wave of panic surged through me. I’d assumed they would keep us together—dividing us was the last thing I’d expected.
“We stay together,” I demanded, pulling against Marcus’s grip. “Both of us in one boat.”
Grey laughed, the sound ugly against the storm. “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, Isabella.”
The implication sent ice through my veins. I fought then, truly fought, twisting and kicking as they tried to force me into a different boat from Cara. “Cara!” I shouted, making eye contact with her. “I’ll find you! Just hold on! You’re strong.”
A hand clamped over my mouth as I was bodily lifted and thrown into the bigger of the two speedboats.
I landed hard against the metal floor, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
Pain radiated through my hip and shoulder where I’d hit the floor, but I ignored it, scrambling up to see where they were taking Cara.
By the time I got back to my feet, the engine was already roaring, and the boat came back to life. I gripped the side of the boat, ignoring the spray that soaked me further, desperate to keep her in sight.
Rain pelted my face as I watched helplessly while our boat headed away from Grey’s boat, which was still at the dock. The last glimpse I caught of her face, pale and terrified, burned into my memory. She looked so small, so vulnerable—nothing like the composed woman I’d just been talking with.
“Sit down before you fall and hurt yourself,” Marcus ordered, his voice carrying the same authority that had terrified me as a child.
I forced myself to turn away from Cara’s boat and face my current reality. Marcus sat opposite me, perfectly composed despite the rain soaking his expensive suit. Two armed men flanked him, their faces impassive. Another manned the controls, fighting against the rough sea.
I’d survived Uncle Marcus before. I could do it again.
I made myself sit, partly to obey the order and partly because the boat was pitching violently now, making it difficult to stand. Every muscle in my body remained tense, ready to fight or flee at the first opportunity.
The boat cut through increasingly rough waters, spray mixing with rain until I was drenched to the skin.
My clothes clung uncomfortably to me, and my hair was plastered to my scalp.
I shivered. My mind worked furiously, mapping our direction, counting seconds, and noting the yacht that appeared to be our destination.
“You’ve grown into your mother’s beauty,” Marcus said, his voice carrying over the engine’s roar. “It’s quite remarkable.”
My jaw clenched so hard, I thought my teeth might crack. I refused to respond, staring past him at the receding shoreline. Each second took me farther from safety, from my family, from Ivan. Had they even noticed we were missing yet? How long before someone realized?
The boat pitched violently as a large wave struck its side, sending water cascading over us. I gripped the side, refused to show fear despite the growing danger of the storm. One of Marcus’s men looked distinctly green, his hand white-knuckled on his weapon.
A weakness. Something to remember.
I forced myself to think strategically, the way I did when hacking a particularly difficult system. Break the problem into manageable pieces. Find the vulnerabilities. Exploit them when the moment comes.
Rule one: Know your target. I studied Marcus covertly, noting how he remained relaxed despite the storm, how his eyes never left me. He was enjoying this—enjoying my fear, my helplessness. The thrill.
He’d probably always been that way—finding pleasure in power over others. Was that why he targeted children? Because of power? Or was he just plain sick?
Rule two: Identify the system weaknesses. The seasick guard was one. The storm itself was another—unpredictable, chaotic, potentially creating unexpected opportunities.
Rule three: Plan your approach carefully. I needed to get to Cara, which meant I needed to get on that damn yacht. I would have to be patient, to wait for the right moment rather than act rashly out of fear.
The yacht loomed closer now, massive and gleaming despite the downpour. I searched for signs of Cara’s boat but saw only crew members securing equipment against the storm.
Grey wouldn’t be crazy enough to choose a different target than the yacht, would he?
Lightning flashed, illuminating the scene in stark white light before plunging us back into the storm’s gloom. In that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of Marcus’s face—and the naked anger in his expression made my skin crawl.
“You’re being very quiet, Isabella,” he said, leaning forward. “No clever remarks? No resistance? I must admit, I’m disappointed. The way Grey described you, I’d expected a bit more…spunk.”
I met his gaze, hiding my revulsion behind a mask of indifference. “What do you want me to do, jump overboard?”
“No, no. I’d like you to behave,” he replied, his tone conversational. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”
I had to stifle a harsh laugh at the absurdity of his statement. Instead, I met his gaze directly for the first time, refusing to cower. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”
He laughed as if I’d said something charming. “You always did have spirit. I respected that about you, even as a child.”
Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Stay present. Stay aware. Find a way.
The boat slowed as we approached the yacht, and I tensed, preparing for whatever came next. Approaching and coming up alongside the yacht in this rough sea would be difficult, and potentially dangerous.
But if they separated me from Cara permanently, my chances of helping her would vanish.
I needed to get to her, to make sure she was okay.
I looked back, searched for Cara’s boat but didn’t see it.
I glanced back toward the island. It looked impossibly distant now, the compound’s lights barely visible through the curtain of rain. Ivan was there somewhere.
Had Ivan realized we were missing yet? Would he connect the dots? The thought of him gave me an odd comfort as if the memory of his strength could somehow bolster my own.
The boy in the fighting ring had survived hell. If that boy was Ivan, he’d survived worse than this. And so would I.
I wouldn’t just wait passively for rescue. I was Isabella Salvini. I was Iset. I’d spent my life outwitting men who underestimated me, and I wasn’t about to stop now.
I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. Marcus had almost broken me once, but I’d rebuilt myself stronger. And whatever came next, I would face it with the same determination I’d admired in that fighting boy all those years ago.
Sometimes, you draw strength from the strangest places. I found mine in the memory of a half-starved boy who refused to break.
And neither would I.