Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The car ride to the private airfield is silent except for the voices coming through my phone.
I'm in the back seat alone, two guards in the front who haven't said a word since we left the compound, and my phone is on speaker resting in my lap with Alessia and Bianca both on the line.
"You'll be safe there," Alessia says gently. "Matteo made sure of it. Good security, quiet location, somewhere you can rest and—"
"I don't care."
"I know." Bianca's voice this time, softer. "But this is temporary. Just until things settle. Then you can come back."
I don't respond because we all know that's probably a lie, that temporary has a way of becoming permanent, that once I get on that plane I might not come back for months or years or ever.
"You have us," Bianca says firmly. "You have your brother. You have your family. That's not nothing, Isabella."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just—"
"You don't have to apologize for being heartbroken," Alessia says.
The airfield appears ahead, small and private, just a single runway and a hangar and the jet waiting on the tarmac with its stairs down.
"We're almost there," I say quietly.
"Call us when you land," Bianca says. "Let us know you arrived safe."
"I will."
"And Isabella?" Alessia's voice is gentle. "This isn't forever. Things will change. They always do."
"I hope you're right."
"I am. You'll see."
We say our goodbyes and I hang up just as the car pulls through the gate and drives toward the plane.
That's when I see him.
Vittorio.
Standing near the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, waiting.
"What is he doing here?" I snap
The guards exchange glances but don't answer. The car stops, they get out immediately, tense and alert, and one of them opens my door.
I step out and Vittorio is already moving toward me, his expression determined.
Do I have to go through this now.
"Isabella," he says. "We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about." I try to move past him toward the plane. "I need to go."
He steps sideways, blocking my path. "Five minutes. Just give me five minutes."
"No."
"Please." His voice drops, becomes almost pleading. "Just hear me out."
"Vittorio, move."
"You're making a mistake." He's not moving, just standing there between me and the stairs. "This whole situation, calling off the wedding, running away—it's all a mistake and you know it."
"The only mistake I made was agreeing to marry you in the first place."
His face darkens. "You don't mean that."
"I absolutely mean that." I try to go around him and he shifts again, staying in my way. "Move, Vittorio. I'm not doing this with you."
"You think he loves you?" His voice rises slightly. "Bianchi? You think he's going to come after you? He's gone, Isabella. He left. He didn't fight for you. He just walked away."
"That's not—"
"It is true. He let Matteo kick him out without a fight.
He didn't argue, didn't refuse, just left you here and disappeared.
" Vittorio takes a step closer. "But I'm still here.
I'm still willing to make this work. Marry me and I’ll speak with my father.
Come back with me right now. We can fix this alliance, we can—"
"No." I shake my head and back away. "No. And I'm not marrying someone I don't love just to fix an alliance that shouldn't have existed in the first place. This was all a mistake from the beginning."
"You're being childish. Selfish." His voice hardens. "Your family needs this. Your brother needs this. And you're throwing it all away for a man who doesn't even want you enough to stay."
"Get out of my way."
I try to push past him, his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt.
"Let go of me," I say quietly, dangerously.
"Not until you listen—"
"Let go of me right now or I will scream for the guards and they will remove you forcibly."
His grip tightens instead of loosening and his face is close to mine now, angry and frustrated.
"You're making a mistake," he says again. "And when you realize it, when you're alone in Europe with no one and nothing, don't expect me to take you back."
The guards are already moving toward us and I'm about to yell for them when chaos descends
The crack of gunfire, sharp and sudden, coming from somewhere beyond the hangar.
Everything happens at once.
More gunfire, closer now, and shouting, the guards beside the car are pulling weapons and moving toward the threat.
"Get to the plane!" one of the guards shouts at me. "Now!"
Vittorio's hand is still on my wrist and he's pulling me in the opposite direction, toward the cars. I wrench free and start running toward the stairs.
Men appear from behind the hangar.
Not our men. Wrong clothes, wrong weapons, moving with coordinated precision toward us.
O'Rourke's men.
I know it instantly, instinctively, the same way I knew it nine years ago when they came for me the first time.
No, no, no.
I run faster.
Someone tackles me from behind.
I yelp and hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs, and hands are on me immediately, rough and violent, pulling my arms behind my back.
"Got her!" a voice shouts.
I'm fighting, kicking, trying to scream, but a hand clamps over my mouth and I'm being dragged backward, away from the plane, away from the guards who are engaging with the attackers.
I bite down on the hand over my mouth and taste blood. The man curses and hits me across the face hard enough that my vision goes white for a second.
When it clears, I'm being shoved into a van, my hands zip-tied behind my back, and someone else is being thrown in beside me.
Vittorio.
His face is bleeding and his hands are also restrained, he's cursing in Italian, furious and struggling.
The van door slams shut.
We're moving before I can process what just happened, the van accelerating hard, tires squealing, and through the small window in the back I can see the airfield receding, see the gunfire still flashing, see everything I was supposed to escape to disappearing behind me.
"Isabella—" Vittorio starts.
"Shut up." My voice is shaking. "Just shut up."
He does.
We drive for what feels like hours but is probably thirty minutes, taking turns too fast, the van rattling and bouncing, and I'm trying to stay calm, trying to breathe, trying not to let the panic take over.
They took me.
The O'Rourkes took me again.
Just like before. Just like when I was little. And this time there's no Enzo coming to save me because Enzo doesn't even know where I am.
The van finally stops.
The back doors open and hands grab me, pull me out, and I'm looking at a building I recognize with sick certainty.
Warehouse. Red Hook. Brooklyn.
The same area. Maybe not the exact same building but close enough that my body remembers before my brain catches up, every muscle tensing, every nerve screaming.
No, no, no, no, no.
"Move," someone says, and shoves me forward.
I move because I don't have a choice, Vittorio stumbling beside me, both of us being marched toward the entrance.
Inside it's dark, cold and smells like rust and mold. They’re pushing us down stairs, down into a basement, and the panic is clawing up my throat now because I know what basements mean, I remember what basements mean.
The door at the bottom opens.
I'm shoved through.
The room is exactly what I expected and worse than I remembered. Concrete floor, concrete walls, a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and standing in the middle of the room with a smile that makes my skin crawl—
Declan O'Rourke.
And beside him, Killian.
My vision tunnels.
My breathing goes shallow, fast and wrong and I can feel the panic attack coming, can feel my body shutting down in response to seeing them, to being back in this place with these men who—
No.
No, I'm not doing this.
I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth, slow and controlled, fighting the panic back inch by inch.
They will come for me.
Matteo will come. Luca will come. Enzo will come. Rafael and Dante will come. They will find me and they will get me out and I just need to survive until they do.
I just need to breathe.
"Isabella Romano," Declan says, and his voice is exactly as I remember it, smooth, cold and utterly wrong. "It's been a long time."
I don't respond.
"Not very talkative, are we? That's all right. You were quiet last time too. At least at first." He takes a step closer and I force myself not to flinch. "Do you remember this place, Isabella? Not this exact room, but close enough."
"What do you want?" I whisper.
"What do I want?" He laughs. "I want what I've always wanted. Leverage over your family. You were very useful for that nine years ago. And now, with all this chaos with the De Lucas, with your brother's alliance falling apart, with everything so unstable—well, you're useful again."
Vittorio speaks for the first time. "You're making a mistake, O'Rourke. The De Lucas will—"
"The De Lucas will do nothing." Killian cuts him off. "Your father already withdrew support from the Romanos. You think he's going to start a war over you? Over her?" He gestures at me. "You're both expendable."
"So here's what's going to happen," Declan continues, walking in a slow circle around us.
"We're going to keep you both here for a while.
We're going to let Matteo know we have his precious sister.
We're going to negotiate. And if he's smart, he'll give us what we want and you'll both go home mostly intact. "
"And if he's not smart?" I ask.
Declan smiles. "Then you'll find out exactly what we do to people who aren't useful anymore."
He turns and walks toward the door, Killian following.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Declan says over his shoulder. "You're going to be here a while."
The door closes.
The lock clicks.
And I'm alone in a basement with Vittorio De Luca and the ghosts of every nightmare I've had for nine years.
I sink down against the wall and pull my knees to my chest and force myself to keep breathing.
They will come.
Enzo will come.
I just need to survive until they do.
I just need to breathe.