Chapter Nineteen
The first gunshot shattered the fragile morning silence.
Isla jerked upright in bed, her heart slamming against her ribs as the distant echoes of rapid gunfire sent a bolt of adrenaline through her. For a split second, she thought she was still dreaming. But then the unmistakable sound of shouting, of chaos erupting beyond the villa walls, told her otherwise.
The heavy doors to her room burst open, and Matteo strode inside, his expression thunderous, his entire body coiled with tension. He was already dressed in black, his movements sharp and deliberate as he checked the magazine of his gun, loading it with precision. The scent of gunpowder and steel clung to him, mixing with the undeniable presence of danger that seemed to follow him like a shadow.
"Stay here," he ordered without looking at her, his voice clipped, controlled. The authority in his tone left no room for argument.
But Isla was beyond following orders.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, ignoring the lingering soreness from the night before. "Not a chance. You forget I was raised learning to protect myself."
Matteo turned to face her, his dark eyes flashing with frustration. "Isla, this isn’t your fight."
She met his gaze with steely determination. "It is now."
Before he could argue, an explosion rocked the villa, rattling the windows and sending a tremor through the floor. Isla didn’t hesitate—she lunged for the gun Matteo had placed on the nightstand, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal like it was an extension of herself.
Matteo’s jaw tightened, but there was no time for protests. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her close. "You stay at my side. You do exactly what I say."
"Fine," she snapped. "Just try to keep up."
They moved together, sprinting down the grand staircase as the sound of bullets tore through the air outside. Matteo’s men were already engaged in battle, returning fire against unseen attackers beyond the gates. Isla’s pulse thrummed in her ears, but fear took a backseat to something else—something sharper, something burning inside her. She wasn’t just a pawn in this war. She wasn’t going to be protected, hidden away like a fragile prize.
She was going to fight.
Matteo motioned for her to stay low as they crept toward the front entrance. Through the shattered windows, she caught sight of black SUVs blocking the road, armed men pouring out, firing relentlessly. The DeLuca guards were pinned, taking cover behind vehicles, the driveway a battlefield of blood and smoke.
"They’re trying to breach the villa," Matteo muttered, scanning the scene. "We need to cut them off."
Isla tightened her grip on the gun. "Then let’s do it."
Matteo cast her a sidelong glance, something unreadable flashing in his dark eyes before he nodded. "Follow me."
They slipped through the side door, using the villa’s stone pillars for cover. Isla’s breath was steady, her mind eerily calm despite the chaos around them. She had been raised in this world, surrounded by men who fought wars in the shadows. And now, she was in the thick of it.
A cartel soldier rounded the corner, gun raised. Isla reacted on instinct. She fired before he could, the bullet hitting him square in the chest. The man crumpled to the ground, and for the briefest moment, she stood frozen, the reality of what she had just done washing over her.
Matteo’s voice snapped her back. "Good shot. Keep moving."
There was no time to process. No time to hesitate. Isla fell into step beside Matteo as they advanced, cutting down the attackers one by one. She wasn’t just surviving this. She was winning.
As they reached the outer walls, Matteo spotted a group of cartel soldiers attempting to scale the perimeter. "We need to push them back before they breach the house."
Isla nodded, raising her weapon again, but Matteo suddenly shoved her behind him as a bullet whizzed past her head. "Stay down!"
She growled in frustration but ducked lower, finding cover behind a stone pillar. Matteo moved with deadly efficiency, taking down two attackers in quick succession. Isla took a deep breath, forced her hands steady, and picked her next target. One precise shot, then another. Her confidence grew with every pull of the trigger.
The sound of sirens in the distance signaled reinforcements. The cartel forces, sensing their disadvantage, began to retreat, disappearing into the surrounding landscape. Matteo’s men didn’t chase after them—not yet. This was just the beginning.
Matteo turned to her, his dark eyes searching hers. "You’re not just a pawn," he murmured, voice rough from battle and something else—something deeper. "You never were."
Isla met his gaze, chest rising and falling as she fought for breath. She wasn’t just surviving.
She was fighting.
And she wasn’t going to stop.
As the dust settled and the last echoes of gunfire faded, Isla and Matteo stood at the edge of the battlefield that had been their home only hours before. The villa was damaged—bullet-riddled windows, smoke curling from the ruined vehicles in the driveway—but it still stood. And so did they.
Luca approached, his shirt stained with blood, his expression grim. "They’ll regroup. We need to be ready."
Matteo nodded, jaw tight. "We need to end this before they have the chance."
Luca’s gaze flicked to Isla, assessing. There was something new in his expression—respect. "She fought well."
Matteo looked at her, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a small nod, he turned back to Luca. "Get everyone inside. We strategize now."
Isla exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she followed them into the villa. The fight was far from over. If anything, it had only just begun.
And she was ready for whatever came next.