Chapter 32
Xavier
“ Isaac .”
The moment Sophie breathes out that name, I’m trying to understand it… because this is Dominic Strata. The relentless bastard who has shadowed my every step for years. The man who vowed he had captured my wife and murdered her.
A stranger to us both.
Except he isn’t looking at her like a stranger.
Dominic’s smile is almost nervous as he angles his head to get a better view of her.
It isn’t surprising because she’s fucking gorgeous.
But I’m instantly violent at his goddamn audacity, envisioning what the sockets of his eyes would look like raw and hollow.
As she tightens her grip on my arm and I see a flash of terror in her eyes, I realize this isn’t the first time she’s faced this man.
My eyebrow arches. “ Isaac ?”
“It’s good to see you, Cara.”
Another name. Another blow.
My eyes widen, understanding.
Strata to me . Isaac to her .
As if a frigid bucket of ice has been hauled over my head—has been suddenly and viciously injected into my fucking veins—the last four years barrel down on me.
And I go from cold to frozen .
He orchestrated Victoria’s arrival on Sophie’s doorstep in Madrid.
He lured Sophie to Reykjavík under false pretenses, using her own sister against her.
And this man—our enemy —spent the last year, hundreds of days and nights with my wife, bending her mind to his will and relaying her progress to her bastard father.
He told me she was dead… but he had her to himself .
My chest heaves violently, a fierce rage surging through my veins like wildfire.
“You don’t know how many times I almost told you everything. I'm sorry for lying to you,” Dominic tells her—and her alone.
Sophie’s hand slides away from my shirt, and intense anger crashes over me as I sense her resolve fading.
No fucking way they win.
We’ll fight our goddamn way out of this house.
He is just a man.
My thumb clicks the safety off the pistol.
To hell with this. I don’t need answers. Or to get the last word in. All I want is him—dead and bleeding out on these marble floors.
Dominic must see the decision reach my eyes because his arrogant grin fades. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Believe me, I do.”
“You’re finished. You get that, right?”
“This isn’t over until I'm dead.”
“You’re as good as dead, man.” Dominic has yet to grab a weapon—a terrible sign.
“Your consiglere switched up on you the second you fucked them over. He’s already hauled her father from the prison while your boys were fending off the few remaining stragglers.
Dario’s gone. Vito’s gone. Hundreds of men are combing the streets for anyone you’ve ever cared about, Marcello. ”
Sophie starts to hyperventilate. Audibly. Without control.
I’m forcing the fear from my features.
Don’t. Don’t think of Isabella. Or Rosa. Courtney. Mimi. Viola. Michael. Delli. Their children .
I have precisely one second to rid my face of any single emotion.
One second to transform mind-numbing fear into an impenetrable mask of severity.
That skill was drilled into me for years, beaten into the fabric of my DNA.
And yet here I am, wondering if the wall I’ve erected is strong enough to get us—and everyone we love—out of this alive.
Dominic advances, flinching as my arm stabilizes, ready to fire if he takes one more step toward my wife.
“I already said you don’t want to kill me,” he presses.
“Then give me a reason.”
“Okay, I will,” Dominic says. “A good one, too. I’ll tell you that your father opened his big mouth one night after having too many drinks, Marcello. Told Vito he needed to get something off his chest. He just had to tell someone about a little baby born out of wedlock.”
My eyes slowly expand. No .
“I made a pitstop before I got here.”
Sophie launches out from behind me, screaming . Before I can stop her, she’s pummeling him with her fists, but he’s not resisting. Not when she slaps his face, her nails carving blood from his flesh. Not when she yanks the gun from his hip and presses it to the space between his eyes.
“Where is she?”
“Not dead. Not yet. Can’t say the same about her parents, though.”
In an instant, the world goes dark.
My whole goddamn world.
A perpetual night with no dawn in sight .
“Where is she?” Sophie shrieks, fisting his shirt. “Where is she?”
Rosa.
Caesar.
Isabella .
There’s no way to breathe through this. My esophagus has clamped shut, like the rest of me.
“Sophie. Come here,” I barely manage to say.
This was always going to happen.
Sophie’s nightmare—her attack on these men—wasn’t the starting point.
Nor were my failings for not seeing what rage threatened to free from her at her father’s reappearance.
This has been years in the making: a calculated plan devised long before I had the will to create one myself.
This is happening because I didn’t care to see it.
I was on the verge of death until she came back into my life.
I’ve failed everyone .
I failed to protect the people I love.
When his intense gaze has scoured her face long enough to reignite my fury, my grip tightens on her arm, pulling her back to my side, out of his reach. “Why are you doing this?”
“Power,” he says, like it’s the easiest answer in the world.
“At least that’s what it was at first. Vito approached me, pretty damn convincing about what he could offer to take down the bastard who ruined his life, who slaughtered his own father.
I’ve gotta give you credit for that. That’s some sick shit.
” His gaze shifts from me to her. “It was when he spoke about his daughter that things started to change. He shared what she’d done to him, what she’d been through.
I couldn’t get enough. I wanted her before I even saw what she looked like, before he gave me her picture.
I wanted to know everything. And when I finally met her… ”
Dominic blows out a steeling breath and straightens with resolve.
“Listen, I don’t have the heart to kill a child, even if she does belong to the man who has what I want.
But I do have men with far less scruples, who wouldn’t bat a fucking eyelash if I ordered it.
” His voice sharpens with an unhinged edge.
“I honestly don’t even give a shit about the girl. You already know what I came here for.”
“ No .” As I exhale the word, I haul Sophie behind me, gripping her wrist to keep her there.
Not this.
This is sick. Cruel. Inhumane.
And I see no way out. Not a single fucking way.
Sophie extends her hand, too desperate to remain silent. “I’ll go?—”
“Not while I’m alive,” I snarl, my voice sinking to unprecedented depths. “You’ll go with him over my dead body .”
“Vito wants you dead, but believe it or not, I respect you, Marcello. I get it. This is a fucked situation all around, and I’m not heartless. Man to man, I’m willing to go against him on this. I’ll give you mercy. You can choose. I’ll give you an hour to decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether you leave the country today with your daughter or your wife.”
An intense wave of nausea washes over me.
The goddamn bastard .
“That isn’t mercy.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
The gun quivers in my grasp, aimed at his head. “I could end your life here and now. I could find Isabella and board a plane with my wife. That’s one possibility. The only one I’ll accept.”
“Do it. She’ll be dead if I don't call my men from the road in..." He glances at the grandfather clock. "Three minutes.”
“This is because of me,” Sophie pleads behind me. “Please, Xavier. ”
My eyes are fixed on Dominic, refusing to let her go.
Also refusing to accept that my daughter has no one else left but me.
Satisfied with the conflict he sees in my eyes, he gestures toward the clock and turns for the door. “My club. Second floor. One hour. The choice is yours, Marcello.”