Chapter 24 Isabella
Lupo leaves for work at dawn like always, kissing me goodbye at the door, ruffling Elena's hair as she eats her breakfast.
"Be back by six," I tell him.
"Always am." He smiles, and for a moment, everything feels normal.
Then he's gone, and I'm alone with Elena.
The morning passes quietly. Laundry. Garden. Playing with Elena and her rabbit. It's been two weeks since we heard about the car in the ravine, and nothing has happened. No police. No investigators. Maybe we really are safe.
I'm in the garden when I hear it. A car engine. Coming up our long driveway.
We never get visitors. Anyone coming here is coming deliberately.
"Elena," I call, trying to keep my voice steady. "Go inside, baby."
"But Mama—"
"Now, Elena."
She hears something in my tone and obeys, running into the house. It seems to be happening too much lately. I wipe my hands on my jeans and walk around to the front.
It’s an expensive looking black car with two men inside.
My heart pounds. It’s Draco's people. They’ve found us.
The car stops and the passenger door opens. A man steps out. Late forties, well-dressed, dark hair. He glances around the property with calculating eyes.
"Good afternoon, miss," he says with a polite nod. "I apologize for the intrusion. We're looking for someone and hoped you might be able to help."
"I don't think I can help you," I say carefully.
"Perhaps." He pulls a photograph from his jacket. "Have you seen this man?"
He holds it up and my heart skips a beat.
It's Lupo.
But not my Lupo. The handsome man in the photo is clean-shaven, hair styled short. Wearing an expensive suit and watch. Standing with other men in a photograph taken at a formal function.
He looks powerful. Dangerous. Sinister.
But unmistakably him.
"No," I say, slowly shaking my head. "I've never seen him. I don’t go to town often."
The man studies me for a long moment. "Are you certain? He might look different now. Longer hair, perhaps a beard."
"I haven't seen him."
"We're searching the area," he says. "Asking at all the farms, the villages. He was last seen several weeks ago on a road not far from here. He was badly injured. Someone might have helped him. Or taken him to a hospital."
Weeks ago. Exactly when I found Lupo.
"I'm sorry. I can't help you."
The man nods slowly. "If you do see him, or if you hear anything—" He pulls out a card with only a phone number on it. "Please call. There's a reward for information. My name is Ciro."
I don't take the card. "If it’s been that long, I’m sure I won't see him."
"Perhaps." He tucks the card back in his pocket. "We'll be in the area for a few days. Asking questions. We’re hoping someone will have seen him."
It's a warning. They're not giving up. They plan to stay until they find him.
"Good luck with your search," I say, my voice flat.
He gives me another long look, then gets back in the car. They drive away, dust rising behind them.
I stand there shaking, watching until they're gone. Then I run inside, lock all the doors, and try to breathe.
Elena finds me in the kitchen. "Mama? Who was that?"
"No one, baby. Just someone asking directions."
"You look scared."
"I'm fine." I pull her close. "Everything's fine."
But it's not fine.
Someone's looking for Lupo. Someone who knows what he looks like. Who knows he was injured near here. Who knows he might still be alive.
The afternoon crawls by. Every sound makes me jump. Every car on the distant road makes my heart race.
Are they coming back? Are they watching? Did they believe me?
By the time six o'clock approaches, I'm a wreck. I hear Lupo's footsteps before I see him. He comes through the door, tired and dusty from work, and stops when he sees my face. "What's wrong?"
"More men came today. Looking for someone."
His whole body goes tense. "What men?"
"Two of them. In a nice car. They showed me a photo." I pull him into the kitchen, away from Elena's room. "Lupo, it was you. In the photo. But you looked different. Dressed in a suit, clean-shaven. You looked like—like someone who could be important."
He's very still. "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing. I said I'd never seen you. But—" My voice breaks. "They said they're searching the whole area. Asking at every farm. They know you were injured near here several weeks ago. They're not going to stop looking. They’re staying until they find you."
"Did they threaten you?"
"No. They were polite. Left a phone number in case I saw anything." I grip his arms. "Who are you? Really? Do you have any idea? The man in the photo—you looked powerful. Dangerous. Like someone who was important."
"I don't know." But his hands are shaking. "I don't remember. You know I don't remember."
"But you're starting to. I can see it. The memories are coming back more and more." I search his face. "What if these men are from your old life? What if they're here to take you back?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't know that. You don't know what you're going back to. What if you remember and you want—"
"Isabella." He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "Whatever I was before, whoever those men are looking for—that's not who I am now. I'm here. With you. With Elena. That's all that matters."
I want to believe him. But I'm terrified.
"What if they come back?"
"Then we deal with it." His voice is firm. "Together. But right now, we stay calm. We act normal. You didn't tell them anything, they have no proof I'm here. Maybe they'll move on. Search somewhere else."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I'll handle it." There's something in his eyes. Something cold and hard. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Elena. You know that."
I do know that. I've seen what he's capable of.
But I'm still scared.
That night, after Elena's asleep, we lie in bed and I can feel the tension radiating off him.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I say.
"I'm thinking about the photo. Trying to remember." He's quiet for a moment. "When you described it—me in a suit, with other men—something flickered. Not a full memory, just a feeling. Like I've stood in that exact position before. Many times."
"What kind of feeling?"
"Power." The word is barely a whisper. "Like I was someone who people listened to."
"The man said they were searching for someone who was badly injured. That someone might have helped him." I prop myself up on my elbow. "They know you survived. I’m sure of it. And they're not going to stop until they find you."
"That’s what I’m afraid of."
"What do we do?"
He pulls me closer. "We wait. We see if they come back. And if they do—" He stops. "Then I'll have to face whoever I was. Whatever I left behind." He kisses my forehead. "But that doesn't change this. You and Elena—you're my life now. Not whatever I had before."
I want to believe him. Want to believe that when his memory returns fully, when he remembers his real name and his real life, he'll still choose us.
But I'm not sure I do.
Because the man in that photograph looked like he belonged to a different world. A world of power and violence and expensive suits.
Not our world.
And I'm terrified that when he remembers, he'll realize he doesn't belong here after all.
We fall asleep eventually, tangled together, both of us knowing that tomorrow might change everything.
That the men asking questions will keep asking.
That sooner or later, they'll find what they're looking for.
And when they do, I might lose him.
I just hold him in the darkness and pray for more time.
Just a little more time before the past catches up and takes him away from us.