Chapter 2

He’s back, too. Leo remembers.

But why would he think this was a lie?

Last time, he saw the bodies.

He saw what the Volkovs did. Why is he so detached?

All because of Scarlett's one perfect, tragic lie? "Isabella did it."

The line went dead.

My mother stared at the phone, then at me, her face pale. "He... he thinks I'm making it up?"

"Now you see what kind of son you raised," I said, my voice dangerously low. "He'd rather believe a whore than his own blood."

Suddenly, footsteps outside the door. Then, the distinct hiss of plastic explosives.

"Get down!" I yelled, tackling my mother.

BOOM!

The steel door blew inward, smoke and fire pouring into the room. A figure in black tactical gear stormed in, a ski mask hiding his face, an AK-47 in his hands.

A Volkov hitter.

"Well, well. The panic room," the man rasped, his voice muffled by the mask. He stepped over the mangled door. "Just like the map said."

I froze. The map.

His eyes, cold and dead behind the mask, landed on me. "Isabella Moretti. The new Consigliere. Big night for you." He raised his AK-47, the movement casual, deadly. "The Volkovs send their regards."

My mother screamed. "Don't you touch my daughter!"

I clenched my jaw, fighting back the despair. I turned to my mother, my voice a low whisper. "Ma, no matter what happens, you don't move. You hear me? There's an escape tunnel. Use it. Get to the Falcones. Ask for sanctuary."

The killer was getting closer, a military-grade knife glinting in his hand. We were out of time.

"Isabella, I can't just leave you!"

I squeezed her hand, hard. "Do what I say. As long as you're alive, we have a chance."

Just then, the killer kicked aside a heavy cabinet and charged.

"Ma, go!" I yelled.

But my mother snatched a heavy silver candlestick from a side table. She charged him, swinging with all her might, trying to crack his skull, trying to buy me seconds.

"Isabella, run!" she screamed, her voice a choked, determined sob. "I won't let them hurt my baby! Go!"

"MA!"

The word ripped from my throat.

I saw it all.

The blade. The twist.

The way it plunged into my mother’s stomach.

She went down, hands slick with her own blood.

“No!” I was on my knees, hysteria choking me.

The past flooded back—the knife in her heart, the same nightmare on a different day.

It didn’t matter where the blade hit.

I felt it. I felt everything.

Even then, her hand found mine, a trembling, iron grip.

"Go, Isabella! For... the family... Go!"

I looked at her, my heart breaking.

Then I turned and hit the button.

I had to get out. I had to save her.

The floor slid open, revealing a tunnel leading to the woods outside the estate.

As I dropped down, I heard my mother’s final, fading gasp and the killer’s curse echo behind me.