Isabella
The house didn’t settle after the gunfire stopped. The war between her new and old families loomed in the air. She could feel it, like it was waiting for something else to happen. But then again, so was she.
Serge, of course, it was him. Her cousin would want to come after her himself.
He’d want the glory of bringing her in, but she couldn’t allow that to happen.
Her jaw tightened as she paced the floor, then stopped, pressing her hand against her mouth for a second.
No—not this time. She wasn’t going to break over her family’s betrayal.
She wouldn’t cry over someone who had just tried to storm Luca’s house to drag her out like she was a package that hadn’t been delivered yet.
Her stomach twisted as she remembered Serge’s words.
He said that she had been promised to someone already.
Promised. God—that thought made her sick.
She moved toward the window, staring out at the front drive.
The bodies were already being handled—cleaned up like it was routine to scrape dead bodies off the driveway.
Like this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. It probably wasn’t.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. “He said it wasn’t over,” she muttered under her breath. And she believed him, too, because men like Serge didn’t walk away from something like this. They came back—harder, smarter, and meaner.
A knock sounded behind her, but she didn’t jump this time. “Come in.” The door opened, and Luca stood in the doorway. Her shoulders lowered just a fraction, and she hated that. She hated that her body reacted to him like that—like his presence felt like something safe. But right now, it did.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his eyes already on her. Not scanning the room but looking at her directly. He was always watching her. “You okay?” The question was simple and direct, but that was his version of checking in on her.
She let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through her hair as she turned fully toward him. “No, but I will be.”
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “I won’t let him get to you. I’ll take him down before that happens.”
Something cold settled in her chest. “Good,” she said.
His eyes sharpened slightly. “Good?” he repeated.
Her chin lifted. “I’d rather know what I’m dealing with rather than pretend it’s over and get blindsided.” Luca studied her for a second. Longer this time, like he was reassessing something.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “That’s not happening. Like I said, I’ve got your back now.”
She saw it clearly now. Her family wasn’t coming for her out of love. They were coming for her because she was still worth something. She was still leverage. Still currency to them. And Luca wasn’t going to let them collect.
Her chest rose slowly. “He called me a Romano,” she said.
Luca’s jaw tightened. “You’re not anymore.”
“I know.” And she did, and that was the problem. That was the line she couldn’t uncross. “I heard the way he said it,” she continued. “Like I still belonged to them.”
“You don’t.” His voice was low and certain.
She held his gaze. “I know, but they don’t.” Luca stepped closer. “And that’s why they’re going to keep coming,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed with no hesitation. Her pulse steadied, and that was the difference now. Before, she would’ve fought him and denied the truth, and tried to find another option. But now, she just accepted it.
“Then we stop them,” she said.
Luca’s brow lifted slightly. “We?” he asked.
“Yes, we,” she said, taking a step closer. They were standing too close again, but she didn’t move and didn’t back up. Isabella kept eye contact with Luca, not letting him see how afraid she was—not for herself, but for him.
“I’m not staying out of it,” she added.
His expression hardened slightly. “You don’t get in the middle of a war like this.”
“I’m already in the middle of it. Hell, I’m the reason why this whole war is happening, Luca,” she said. She could see the minute he realized that what she had said was the truth.
She gestured toward the front of the house. “He didn’t come for you,” she said. “He came for me.” Luca didn’t deny it, because she wasn’t wrong. “I’m the reason this just escalated,” she continued. “So don’t tell me to sit upstairs and pretend I’m not part of it.”
Silence stretched between them, tight and sharp as Luca’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Her lips pressed together. “I do,” she insisted.
“No,” he said. “You don’t.”
“I know enough,” she assured. “I know my cousin is working with the same people my father was. And I know they want me.” Her voice didn’t shake and didn’t break.
“I know they’re not going to stop coming for me.
She stepped even closer, closing the last of the distance between them.
“And I know you’re the only reason they haven’t gotten to me yet. ”
Luca’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t step back. He didn’t shut her down immediately, and that meant that he was listening. “At least let me help,” she said.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “With what?”
“Information,” she said. “I need a better idea of who’s involved, exactly. I grew up around them, Luca. I know how they think.”
He studied her carefully, like he was weighing the risk. Not just of her getting hurt, but of letting her in. “You’re not leaving this house,” he said finally.
She expected that from him and knew that arguing wasn’t going to help her get her way. “Fine.”
That seemed to catch him off guard just a little. “But I’m not staying behind either,” she insisted.
“You want control?” she added. “Then use me.” If he took her up on her offer, she’d be aligning herself with the Camorra family completely, and Luca would know that.
His hand came up, gripping her jaw lightly, tilting her face up toward his. “Careful,” he said quietly. Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t look away.
“I am being careful,” she insisted.
“Are you?” he asked. That almost made him smile—almost. Instead, his grip tightened just slightly. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her who was in control.
“I don’t make mistakes,” he said.
“Everyone does,” she countered.
“Not like this.” Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down.
“Then don’t start with me,” she said. “Don’t let me be a mistake, Luca,” she whispered.
He was quiet, and for a second, this thing between them wasn’t about Serge, her father, or the Russians.
It was just the two of them—her and Luca.
The tension between them hadn’t gone away after last night.
It had gotten worse. Luca’s thumb brushed once along her jaw before he let go.
“Stay in here tonight,” he said. It wasn’t a command—not exactly. He was giving her a choice, and she knew her answer before even giving it to him.
“I would like that,” she agreed. “Not because you told me to.”
His mouth curved slightly. “Yeah, I get that.”
She exhaled slowly, watching him, measuring him the same way he measured everything else—including her. “You’re going after him,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She knew how things worked.
His expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
Her chest tightened. “When?”
“Soon,” he said. She knew that he’d want to stay one step ahead of Serge and the Russians.
She nodded. “Be careful.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Before she could filter them. Before she could pretend she didn’t mean them.
Luca stilled, and then his gaze locked onto hers. “Always am.” She knew what that meant—he wasn’t just going after Serge, he was going to end the war, completely. And this time, there would be no coming back from it. Not for Serge, and not for anyone standing with him. And definitely not for her.