Chapter 5

Dominic took the notebook from my hand. His fingers brushed against mine and a jolt of heat shot up my arm so fast I nearly yanked my hand back. If he noticed, he did not show it. He opened the notebook and started reading, his dark eyes moving across the pages with frightening speed.

After a few minutes, he looked up. Something in his expression had changed. The sharpness was still there, but underneath it was something softer. Something that looked almost like grief.

"You died at the hands of Christian Ashford and Natalia Ashford." It was not a question. He had pieced it together from my notes, from the gaps I had left, from the names I had circled and underlined. "And you were the last surviving member of my squad."

My throat tightened. I nodded.

"Work on the safe house starts tomorrow." His voice was rough around the edges, like he was holding something back. "Eagle Ridge Mountain. Reinforced walls, underground bunkers, weapon storage, medical bay, everything. Marco will stay in Creston Bay to oversee the legal proceedings."

Marco Bellini looked at me with an expression I could not quite read, something between respect and wonder and the slow, dawning realization that the woman sitting in front of him was not just his boss's charity case.

"I will have the compensation demands delivered to all five families by morning." Marco's voice held a note of warmth it had not carried before. "And I should mention, Mr. Valenti, that while the Conti, Russo, Caruso, and Ricci families have already indicated willingness to negotiate, the Moretti family is stalling. And the young woman they call their real daughter, Serena, has been requesting a meeting."

"Deny it." Dominic did not hesitate. "Serena Moretti gets nothing. No meeting, no negotiation, no acknowledgment. She does not exist as far as we are concerned."

I felt a flicker of something fierce and hot in my chest. Not gratitude exactly, but something close to it. The feeling of being seen. Of being chosen. Of someone finally looking at the full, terrible picture of my life and deciding, without a single moment of hesitation, that I was worth fighting for.

I pushed the feeling down. Locked it away. There was too much work to do and too little time to waste on emotions that would only slow me down.

"I have four million dollars from my mother." I straightened up in my chair, all business again. "I need to start my own supply run. Grain, seeds, farming tools, livestock, canned goods, medicine, hygiene supplies. I need a warehouse to store everything temporarily, and I need a driver who will not ask questions."

Dominic reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a set of car keys, tossing them to me with a casual flick of his wrist.

"The driver's name is Tony. He is downstairs. He will take you wherever you need to go and he has been with my family for fifteen years." His eyes held mine for a beat longer than necessary. "Buy whatever you need. I will handle the rest."

I caught the keys and stood up, tucking the notebook back into my jacket. As I turned toward the door, Dominic's voice stopped me.

"Isabella."

I looked back over my shoulder.

"When I read through the rest of your notes tonight, I am going to figure out exactly how bad things were for you in that other life." His voice was low, almost tender, but underneath the tenderness was something fierce and unbreakable. "And when I do, I want you to know that none of it is ever going to happen to you again."

My heart clenched so hard it hurt. I turned away before he could see the moisture building in my eyes, and I walked out of the study with my back straight and my chin high.

The warehouse was twenty minutes from the villa. Tony drove in silence, which I appreciated. I spent the ride staring out the window at the darkening sky over Creston Bay, thinking about spatial dimensions and crop yields and the exact number of calories a human body needs to survive a nuclear winter.

By the time we reached the wholesale market, I had a list in my head. Grain. Rice. Flour. Salt. Sugar. Oil. Seeds for every vegetable that could grow in enriched soil. Pairs of chickens, ducks, geese. Live fish for breeding stock. Canned meats, dried fruits, powdered milk, and enough hygiene products to keep a small army clean for a year.

I bought all of it. Filled the warehouse from floor to ceiling. And every time the cashier looked at me like I was insane for ordering six hundred pounds of rice, I just smiled and handed over the cash.

Back at the villa that night, after Tony had driven me home and the last delivery truck had pulled away from the warehouse, I locked myself in my room and entered my spatial dimension.

The black soil was waiting for me, rich and dark and humming with potential. I knelt down and pressed my palms flat against the earth, feeling the warmth of it pulse against my skin like a heartbeat.

I planted seeds in careful rows. Wheat. Corn. Tomatoes. Potatoes. Carrots. Green beans. Then I carried a bucket to the crystal clear stream that flowed through the center of the space and poured the water over the freshly planted soil.

The sprouts came up in minutes. Tiny green shoots pushing through the black earth, reaching for a light that did not exist in this dimension but somehow nourished them anyway. I watched them grow with my mouth open and my heart racing, because this was the proof I needed. The spatial water accelerated growth beyond anything natural. What should have taken weeks was happening in hours.

I set up a second row of seeds without the spatial water, just regular soil and regular moisture, so I could track the difference over time. Then I stepped out of the dimension, collapsed onto my bed, and stared at the ceiling with my muscles aching and my mind spinning.

Four months. Supplies to gather. A body to train. An apocalypse to survive.

Tomorrow, I was heading to the villa's gym to start conditioning this soft, untrained body into something that could fight, run, and endure. Because when April 4 came and the sun turned against us, beauty and money and family names would mean nothing.

Only strength would matter. And I was going to be the strongest person standing when the world finally fell apart.