Chapter 16 He Killed Him
Isabella’s POV
It had been three weeks since Alexander’s text turned my life into a ticking time bomb.
And then, inexplicably… the clock stopped.
The first few days I lived in a state of vibrating paralysis. I packed my entire life into two suitcases and left them by the door, waiting for the devil to come collect his due.
Friday came.
Nothing.
Then Monday.
Still nothing.
A full week passed in silence, and somehow that silence was more terrifying than the threats had been.
By the third week, the fear had dulled into something fragile—something that almost resembled hope.
Alexander Kingsley hadn’t shown up at the café.
He hadn’t texted.
He hadn’t sent his black-suited shadows to stand watch over my morning coffee.
I started telling myself the board had changed their minds.
Or maybe he’d found someone else.
Someone polished.
Elegant.
Willing.
Someone who actually belonged in his cold, glass world instead of a barista with a temper and a caffeine addiction.
“He’s gone, Sarah,” I’d whispered just yesterday while standing outside the shop, feeling sunlight on my face for the first time in weeks. “The monster found a different cave.”
I was wrong.
The monster hadn’t left.
He’d just been feeding somewhere else.
At two in the morning on a humid Tuesday, the quiet of my apartment shattered when my phone started buzzing violently on the nightstand.
It was Sarah.
Isa, I’m dying. Everything hurts and I’m burning up. Do you have anything for a fever?
I was out of bed before my brain fully caught up with my body.
I checked the cabinet.
Empty.
Sarah was the closest thing I had to family in this city. If she was sick, I was moving.
I’m out too, but the 24-hour pharmacy across the street is open. Stay put. I’m coming.
I pulled on a hoodie over my sleep shorts, shoved my feet into sneakers, and slipped out into the cool night air.
The street was eerily empty, washed in the dull orange glow of flickering streetlights.
The pharmacy was quiet.
I grabbed the strongest flu medicine I could find, paid quickly, and started back toward Sarah’s building.
My mind was already planning the next steps.
Water.
Medicine.
Maybe soup.
I took the shortcut through the alley near the pier.
And that’s when I saw the car.
A sleek charcoal-gray luxury sedan sat crooked near the edge of the alley.
Its headlights were off.
But the engine hummed low and steady—like a predator waiting in the dark.
I froze.
Then quickly ducked behind a row of industrial dumpsters as the back door opened.
Two men stepped out.
Mountains of muscle.
I recognized them instantly.
They were the same men who occasionally lingered near the café.
Alexander’s men.
They dragged a third man out of the car and dropped him onto the wet pavement.
He was a mess.
Blood streaked his face. His hands trembled as he tried to crawl toward the water.
“Please,” he sobbed hoarsely. “Please, Kingsley. I have a family. I didn’t mean to—”
The driver’s door opened.
Alexander stepped out.
He wasn’t wearing one of his perfect suits tonight.
Just a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tie gone, the collar slightly open.
But his eyes…
God.
His eyes were ice.
Cold. Empty. Unreadable.
He moved forward with a terrifying calm.
I should have run.
I should have turned around and disappeared into the night.
But I couldn’t move.
I watched the man I’d almost started to trust turn into the nightmare everyone warned me about.
Alexander didn’t yell.
He didn’t even look angry.
He looked… efficient.
He reached behind his back and pulled out a handgun, the matte-black metal catching the moonlight.
“You should’ve thought about your family before you touched my shipment,” he said quietly.
His voice carried easily over the sound of the waves.
He grabbed the man by the hair and forced his head back.
The gun pressed against his temple.
No hesitation.
No emotion.
A muted thud cut through the night.
The suppressed gunshot was sickeningly quiet.
The man’s body went limp instantly, collapsing onto the pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.
I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth to stop the scream that threatened to escape.
The bag of medicine nearly slipped from my fingers.
Alexander tucked the gun back into his waistband and gave a small nod to his men.
“Dump him.”
His voice was smooth.
Indifferent.
Like he’d just ordered another bottle of wine.
“Make sure the weights are secure.”
The two men lifted the body without ceremony.
Efficient.
Professional.
Something metallic clinked as they fastened restraints around the man’s ankles.
They swung him once.
Twice.
Then released.
The splash that followed was deep.
Final.
The kind of sound that doesn’t echo back.
Alexander reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief.
He wiped a faint speck from his cheek with careful precision.
Like he was correcting an inconvenience.
Not cleaning evidence.
Then he turned toward the car.
And for one horrible second…
His gaze drifted toward the dumpsters.
Toward me.
My breath locked in my chest.
I crouched lower, pressing myself against the cold metal, my heart pounding so violently I was certain it would give me away.
Don’t move.
Don’t breathe.
The night seemed to hold its breath with me.
Then—
Car doors slammed.
The engine growled.
Tires screeched as the silver car disappeared into the darkness.
Silence swallowed the pier.
I stayed crouched there long after the taillights vanished, clutching Sarah’s medicine bag so tightly the paper crumpled in my hands.
The scene replayed in my mind over and over.
The order.
The swing.
The splash.
The handkerchief.
Alexander Kingsley wasn’t just arrogant.
He wasn’t just possessive.
He was lethal.
And somehow…
I was the woman he had chosen to marry.