Chapter 26 Isabella
I watch through the kitchen window as Lupo crosses the yard from the barn. He moves slowly, like he's carrying something heavier than just his own weight. His shoulders are tight, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He looks like a man walking to his own execution.
Elena is finally asleep. It took three stories and two lullabies, but she's down. Which means whatever Lupo needs to tell me, we can say it without little ears listening.
The door opens and he steps inside. For a moment, we just look at each other across the kitchen. The space between us feels vast.
"Sit down," I say quietly, gesturing to the table. "I'll make coffee."
"Isabella—"
"Sit." My hands are shaking as I reach for the espresso pot. "Whatever you need to tell me, we're going to do it like civilized people. With coffee."
He sits. I can feel his eyes on me as I fill the pot with water, measure out the grounds, set it on the stove. The familiar ritual steadies me. Grounds me.
When the coffee is ready, I pour two cups and carry them to the table. Set one in front of him, wrap my hands around the other. The heat burns my palms but I welcome it.
"Tell me," I say.
He stares into his cup for a long moment. "I'm not just someone who worked for an organization." His voice is flat. Empty. "I was the boss. The Don. Head of one of the most powerful crime families in southern Italy."
The words hang in the air between us. I'd suspected something like this—had pieced it together from the expensive suit in the photo, the way those men deferred to him—but hearing it confirmed is different.
"How do you know?" I ask. "Did you remember?"
"Not exactly." He finally looks up at me, and there's something raw in his eyes. "The men found me at the work site today. Ciro, the man who came here. He told me what happened and gave me a gun. For protection. I hid it in the barn before coming to talk to you."
"Okay."
"But then I—" He stops, his jaw clenching. "I checked it. Made sure it was loaded, that the safety worked. And my hands just... knew. Every movement was automatic. Like I'd done it many times before. All my life."
I take a sip of coffee, buying myself time. "What else?"
"Memories came back. Fragments, but vivid. I remembered teaching men to shoot. Standing at a range, correcting their form. I remembered—" His voice cracks slightly. "I remembered killing someone. Gun in my hand, pulling the trigger. Watching him drop."
My throat tightens but I don't look away. "Just one?"
"No." The word is barely a whisper. "Multiple times. Different situations. A warehouse. A car. An office where I sat cleaning that exact weapon while someone reported back on a job." He meets my eyes. "They called me boss. In the memories, they all called me boss. Ciro called me boss, too."
I set down my cup carefully. "Tell me everything Ciro said. All of it."
He tells me about the organization—his organization. About running operations across southern Italy. About the power, the money, the violence that came with it. About Dante, his bodyguard of eight years, who was forced to betray him to save his sister's life.
"The Florence family apparently wanted me dead," he says. "I was moving into their territory, and they decided to eliminate the problem by killing me. They grabbed Dante's sister, told him to kill me or they'd kill her. He chose her."
"Can you blame him?"
"No." Lupo's voice is soft. "If someone threatened Elena, I'd burn the world down. I understand why he did it. I don’t blame him."
The casual way he says it—the certainty—sends a chill down my spine.
"Ciro said my organization is falling apart without me," he continues. "That my enemies are circling. He wants me to come back to Naples, remember who I am, take my place again. As if I could possibly run a criminal empire when I don’t remember a goddamn thing about it."
"And?"
“I told him I needed time. That I had to talk to you first." He runs his hand through his hair. "But Isabella, the longer I stay missing, the more dangerous it gets. Eventually someone from the Florence family will get curious. Will investigate what really happened. And when they do—"
"They'll come looking."
"Yes."
I'm quiet for a moment. "What about your own people? Ciro and the others. Are they a threat to you? To us?"
"I don't think so. Ciro seemed... genuine. Loyal." Lupo shakes his head. "But I don't know for sure. I don't remember them, don't remember who I can trust. My driver for eight years tried to kill me and left me for dead in a field."
"What did Ciro say about me and Elena? About the life you've built here?"
Lupo looks uncomfortable. "He said it's good.
That I seem happy. That he hasn't seen me look at peace in years.
" A pause. "He also said that by staying here, I might be putting you in danger.
But that if I come back, remember who I am, take my place—I'd have the resources to protect you. Men. Power. Reach."
"Or you could take us and run."
"He said that too. Said we could try to disappear.
But that these people have long reach, and we'd be running forever.
" Lupo leans forward, his hands flat on the table.
"Isabella, I need you to understand something.
Without me, my organization is vulnerable.
My allies are nervous. My enemies are circling.
The longer I stay gone, the more unstable everything becomes.
And that instability—it increases the chances that someone finds me. Finds us."
"Your presence here is a danger, but your absence might be too?"
"Yes."
I take another sip of coffee, thinking. "What does Ciro want you to do?"
"Come back to Naples. See my home, my organization, talk to the crew. Hope it triggers my memory." He looks at me. "He gave me a phone number. Said to call when I'm ready. Or if anything suspicious happens—anyone asking questions, anyone watching."
"Did you tell him about the men at the market?"
"No. I didn't want to give him more ammunition to pressure me into leaving. And we don’t know if those men were looking for me or helping Draco find you."
"That’s smart. What else did he say?"
“He asked what should happen to my driver, Dante. Said that's my decision to make when I'm ready."
"The man who tried to kill you? To save his sister?"
"Yes."
"And?" I watch his face. "What will you decide?"
"I don't want to be the one to decide." He sounds tired. "Part of me understands why he did it. But part of me—" He stops. "Part of me remembers what betrayal costs in that world. What message it sends if you let it go unpunished."
The coldness in his voice makes me uneasy. This is the Don talking. The boss. The man who gave orders about life and death.
"Isabella." He reaches across the table, not quite touching me. "I know this is a lot. I know you probably have questions."
"I have a hundred questions," I interrupt. "But first I need to know something."
"What?"
"Do you want to go back?" I hold his gaze. "To Naples. To that life. Do you want to remember who you were?"
He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. "I don't want to go back, but part of me needs to remember who I was. Needs to understand what I did, why I made the choices I made." He pauses. "But another part of me is terrified."
"Of what?"
"Of losing this." His voice drops. "Of remembering that person and realizing I can't be who I am now. That I can't be the man you and Elena need me to be."
The words settle between us, heavy and honest.
"Lupo." I reach out now, covering his hand with mine. "I need to tell you something too. And I need you to really hear me."
"Okay."
"I knew you were dangerous the day we met. I saw it in how you moved, how you assessed threats, how you killed Draco without hesitation." I tighten my grip. "I'm not naive. I've lived in that world. I know what men like you are capable of."
"Then why did you let me stay?"
"Because you're also the man who fixed my chicken coop. Who teaches Elena how to collect eggs. Who reads her stories and calls her sweetheart." My throat tightens. "You're the man who came back from disposing of a body and held me like I was something precious."
He's staring at me, something vulnerable and desperate in his eyes.
"I'm not going to pretend this isn't complicated," I continue. "Or that I'm not afraid of what might come. But I need you to know one thing. Whatever you were before doesn't change what you are now. Not to me."
"Isabella—"
"I'm not finished." I pull my hand back, wrapping it around my coffee cup again. "But I also need you to be honest with me. About everything. No more hiding things because you think it'll protect me. I need to know what we're facing. All of it."
"Okay."
"So, tell me the truth. What are you really afraid of?"
He's quiet, choosing his words carefully.
"I'm afraid that if I go back. If I remember everything.
I'll realize I can't walk away again. That I'll be pulled back into that life completely.
" He meets my eyes. "And I'm afraid that even if I don't go back, that life will come here.
Will find us. And when it does, you and Elena will be caught in the crossfire. "
"Because of me? Or because of you?"
"Both. Either. Does it matter?"
I consider this. "Maybe not."
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The coffee is cooling in our cups.
"What do you think I should do?" Lupo asks finally.
"I think—" I stop, because I don't actually know. "I think you need to make whatever decision lets you sleep at night. And I think we need to be realistic about our options."
"Which are?"
"You go back to Naples, remember who you are, and either stay in that life or try to leave it.
You stay here and hope your memory returns on its own while we wait for threats from both your past and mine.
Or we run, all three of us and try to disappear completely.
" I shrug. "None of them are good options. "
"No."