CHAPTER 15:The Mask and the Collar

DAMIAN

“You’re back so soon, brother,” his voice low and steady, though every muscle in my jaw tensed.

( Tu es déjà de retour, frère.)

I stepped into my room, peeling off my jacket when I heard his voice Matteo’s voice. Smooth. Ironic. Laced with mockery. A smirk tugged at my lips. I had a feeling he’d show up eventually… but not tonight.

My eyes found him lounging in my study area like he owned it. Legs crossed on my desk my desk one hand lazily flipping a knife between his fingers. He knew that irritated me. That was the point.

“Nice to see you, Matteo,” I said coolly.

He glanced up, his grin widening. “You don’t tell me you’ve made Isa your new pet. Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type.” His eyes gleamed with something darker. “Or was that the plan all along? Send me to France just so you could cozy up to her?”

He stood, knife twirling in his hand, and crossed the space between us.

“Or better yet,” he added, tone dropping to a whisper, “kill her family and keep her for yourself.”

He was baiting me. Testing how far he could push.

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just let the silence stretch until the tension sharpened like a blade.

Matteo stopped in front of me, too close. “You’ve always hated Father,” he murmured. “And now that he’s out of the way, you’ve crowned yourself king. But let’s not pretend, brother. You’re not interested in power. You’re obsessed. And it shows.”

My eyes narrowed.

“I had to kill the Russos,” I said flatly. “Their son killed Father. In our world, you don’t let that go. If I had spared them, we’d be flooded by wolves the next day. You know that.”

“But you spared her,” he snapped. “Isa’s a Russo. You left one alive. Why?”

I said nothing.

Matteo's smirk spread slowly, like poison in a glass of wine calm, deliberate, deadly. His gaze, sharp as a blade, never left my face.

"You want her," he said, voice low and smooth. "Always have."

He took a single step closer, the shadows shifting over his face. “She’s yours now… but she doesn’t love you. Does she?”

Something coiled tight in my gut.

I didn’t speak.

The silence between us wasn’t empty it was suffocating. Heavy with history. With blood. With the things we’d both done and never said aloud.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides.

The room felt too small. The air too thick.

"You should go back to France," I said, voice flat, the weight of steel behind every word. "Tonight."

He tilted his head, amused. “Scared I’ll take her from you?”

My eyes flicked to him, ice-cold. “You wouldn’t get the chance.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and bitter. "You think locking her in a penthouse makes her yours? You think that collar around her neck keeps her heart in place?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You can chain her. Break her. Mark every inch of her skin. But love doesn’t answer to violence. It’s not something you can force into existence.”

I didn’t flinch.

But a muscle jumped in my jaw.

He was pressing the one wound that refused to close.

"And you?" I asked, voice razor-thin. "Is this your attempt at playing hero now? After all the blood you’ve spilled in my name?”

“I’m not the one who broke her,” he said softly.

That did it.

The rage beneath my skin sparked like a fuse. My body stilled, too still. I could feel the storm coming but I held it back, barely.

Matteo turned, walking to the door without another word. But as his hand curled around the knob, he paused, back still to me.

“If you ever hurt her again,” he said, voice cutting the air like a knife, “I’ll come back. And next time… I won’t be your diplomatic little brother.”

The door slammed behind him loud, final.

I stood there, breathing hard.

Not from fear.

From fury.

The kind that lives in your chest and eats away at the parts of you still capable of softness.

He thought she wouldn’t love me?

He was wrong.

I didn’t need her love.

I’d take it.

Even if I had to burn down everything soft in her, piece by piece… until I was the only thing left inside.

Even if I had to break her until she whispered my name not with hate…

but with devotion.

ISABELLA

The ceiling above me was too white. Sterile. Like a hospital or a cage pretending to be a room.

I blinked slowly, chest heavy, limbs slow to respond. Last night clung to me like sweat after a nightmare except this one didn’t fade with daylight. The feel of his hands, his mouth, the sound of my own voice breaking beneath him… it echoed in my bones.

I sat up carefully, sheets falling away from my bare skin. My thighs ached. My lips were swollen. And my heart God, my heart felt like it had betrayed me.

Why him?

Why couldn’t I stop reacting to him?

I slipped out of bed and crossed the room on unsteady feet. I avoided the mirror, even as my reflection tugged at the edge of my vision like a ghost. I already knew what I’d see.

Not me.

Not the girl who used to laugh freely, wear her brother’s hoodie to the corner store, or dream about leaving the city.

On the dresser, a splash of crimson caught my eye. I stared at the silk dress laid out for me short, tight, expensive. Damian’s choice. His taste wrapped in satin.

My fingers hovered over it for a second too long before I picked it up.

I hated the way it fit.

I hated how good I looked in it.

I hated that I still put it on.

By the time I finished my makeup, the door flew open without warning.

No knock. Just force.

Richard stood in the doorway, stiff as a soldier. His face was a mess dark bruising under one eye, a split lip that hadn’t been cleaned properly. Blood had dried at the corner of his mouth.

I turned before I could stop myself. “What happened to you?”

He didn’t speak. Just flinched back when I reached for him.

My hand froze midair.

“Please, ma’am,” he said quietly, eyes locked on the floor. “We have to go.”

He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

Something broke quietly in my chest.

I grabbed my bag in silence, heels clicking softly on the marble floor as I followed him out. The car was already waiting.

Inside, I tried again. “Where are we going?”

Richard’s knuckles tightened on the wheel. “The boss’s club.”

A chill spread across my skin.

A club. Of course.

Another leash, another room I’d walk into with Damian’s claim wrapped around my neck.

Outside the window, the city bled past blurry and fast. I stared blankly, but the thoughts in my head screamed like thunder. I was changing. He was changing me. This wasn’t the version of me my brother would’ve recognized. It wasn’t the version I wanted to be.

But it was the version that had to survive.

The car slowed, and Richard finally spoke. “We’re here.”

I looked up.

The building loomed like a monument to power black glass, sharp edges, too tall for a place meant for dancing. It wasn’t a club. It was a fortress disguised in decadence.

“Is this really a club?” I asked, more to myself than him.

He didn’t answer. Just nodded once. Tight. Almost apologetic.

It was enough.

He was still there somewhere beneath the bruises, behind the silence the man who once swore to protect me. Even if he now answered to a monster.

I stepped inside.

The bass hit first deep and rhythmic, like a second heartbeat pounding beneath my feet. The air was warm, thick with perfume and alcohol and something darker I couldn’t name.

Heads turned. Eyes scanned my body hungry, curious, assessing.

But the moment they saw the collar around my throat, everything shifted.

A pause.

A glance away.

Fear.

The red dragon crest burned against my skin like a brand. Not just a symbol it was a warning.

Don’t touch. She belongs to him.

I swallowed hard, lifting my chin.

This wasn’t just a club.

This was power. This was silence and danger dressed in designer suits. This was where loyalty was sold, and secrets were currency.

But it was also a crowd.

And in a crowd… people vanish.

My pulse picked up. Maybe just maybe I could disappear in here. Just for a while. Maybe I could breathe. Maybe I could run.

Maybe I could find the part of myself I’d left behind the day Damian Vercetti collared me.

And escape.

Even if it was only for a few hours I had to try.