LOGINIsabella's POV
I used to think of myself as sturdy. Under the weight of my father's business, I had learnt how to keep my head down and avoid difficulty. Nothing could have, nevertheless, suited me for this. FOR he is. Looking at the woman I scarcely knew from the front to rear mirror, The white silk dress hugged me, beautiful lace hanging down my arms. For a Mafia man, the perfect woman is I could not let this lose its irony. No love story like this exists. In a business deal, I was the commodity. My father, Don Carlo Rossi, had seen that I comprehended it. He had stated, just a few days before, "Isabella, you're doing this for the family." His comments had been subdued, as though he were suggesting that I set the table instead than wed a man I had never even met. And now here I was, staring at my reflection trying to calm the panic wriggling at my chest. I drew deeply and pushed myself to be cool and endure tonight. There was no escape path. Not from my end. Not as much now. There was a soft knock on the door before it creamed open. Entering the room, my mother Sofia turned to face me head-to- tail in brilliant green. Her black graying hair pulled back into a tight chignon, her face a mask of serenity, she was as beautiful as always. Still, I knew her really well. < Benevolent behind that calm exterior was a storm structure. Her voice carried finality, yet she spoke softly, "It's time." I nodded; my throat felt too tight for speech. My hands trembled as I grasped the long length of my garment, but I pushed forward. One step after the other. This was happening and going back was not possible. The ceremony turned out as cold and calculated as I had imagined it would have. My eyes fixed on the polished marble floor, I stood at the altar scarcely hearing the priest speak. The most powerful families in the city quietly and powerfully gathered to witness two empires come together. I then felt it, his weight right next to mine. I made myself glance up at Enzo De Luca, the guy now my husband. He appeared taller than I had remembered from our first meeting, his dark hair slicked back, his jaw set in a firm, ruthless line. His eyes fixed on mine were icy, unintelligible. Do you, Isabella Rossi, take Enzo De Luca as your husband? the priest asked. My voice barely above a whisper and my heartbeat in my chest as I pushed out the words. "I do.," Enzo responded straightforwardly in a brusque manner. In fact, this And it was finished exactly like that. Married to the most dangerous man in the city, I was Isabella De Luca. Still, I felt as though I was locked in a gilded cage even as I stood amid wealth and power. The priest pronounced us husband and wife, and Enzo reached for my hand; his touch was cold and harsh. Though I got ready for the kiss that would signal our fate, to my surprise it never happened. He turned to face the throng after just briefly staring at me, his expression blank. Following his lead, I said nothing as the room erupted in applause. Inside, though, I had simply terror. I didn't know exactly how far the game I was playing currently stretched till the reception. Enzo was seated next to me at the head table; my plate of uneatable food went cold while I listened to the muted conversations all around. Every glance and every whispered word looked like a calculated move in a deadly game of dead chess. Enzo was calm next to me; his posture was laid back but his eyes never missed anything. Right here he was under control. He would be continual. Then I started to notice something strange though. Luca Vitali, seated far from the table, was gazing at us quite deliberately. Though his facial expression was hard to grasp, my spine shivered from something in his gaze. One of Marco Vitale's assistants, I recognized from prior murmurs. I moved closer to Enzo; my voice just above a whisper. Who is who? Enzo scarcely glanced at me, but his jaw tightened slightly. " Nobody you should consider." It was not the answer I was hoping for and set me on alert. One finds an error here. It felt real. I escaped from the throng later that evening in quest of some alone time as the guests were leaving. The huge halls of Enzo felt like a maze, each turn less familiar than the next. Leaning against the cool marble wall, I inhaled shallow breaths to help me calm the panic developing within me. Right then, this constituted my existence. One life I had not chosen. One in which I lived terrified. I heard a footfall behind me abruptly. Turning, my pulse thumping, I found Enzo standing there, his expression unreadable. His voice low and intimidating, he continued, "You shouldn't wander off alone." I tried hard, my heart quickening. "I sensed some air was needed." Enzo moved forward, his eyes slightly narrowing. Bella, there are risks on this planet you are not familiar with. You would be wise to have this in mind. His careful words hung between us. I wanted to object, let him know I was not a child, that I could take care of myself. Improved, though, I knew. Defiance in this world might be deadly. Rising voices heard down the hall before I could respond. Enzo changed his whole approach immediately. He pivoted sharply, his hand reaching for the handgun tucked beneath his jacket involuntarily. He said, his voice like steel, "Stay here." He left along the hall with purposeful, heavy steps without looking back. My brain swirling, I steeled myself. One may find a problem in anything. I can sense it. But I could not just stand there, helpless and in the dark. I followed him for a better taste. My pulse hammering in my ears, the sounds grew louder as I arrived. I slide behind a marble column, just in time to see Enzo standing face-to-face with Luca Vitali over the corner. Enzo's voice dangerously low, he whispered sternly, "You've overstayed your welcome, Luca." Luca grinned, his posture free even with the weight in the air. Come along, enzo. As well as I do, you know that this marriage won't change anything. The Vitale family pays you visits still. My blood cooled in time with his words. The Vitale dynasty The same people my father had advised me not to hang around. The same reason I had been married off to Enzo first. "What point of view do you have?" Enzo asked as his hand remained at his side on the revolver. Luca smiled wider, hate blazing in his eyes. "My point is she is not under your protection. The Vitale family will find a way to get to her independent of your best attempts. And they will guarantee her suffering when they do. Drawing a brief breath, my heart beating in my chest. He was referring to me here. People paid me some attention. Enzo curled his fingers over the handle of his revolver, his face darkened. "This is the last thing you ever touch; if you touch her." Luca laughed grimly, but his eyes lacked comedy. " We'll see about that." Enzo grabbed his gun without warning, the sound of safety clicking off down the corridor. But Luca disappeared into the darkness before he could fire, leaving just the lingering warning of violence behind. Enzo stayed there for a minute, his chest rising and falling with almost under control fury. Then he turned slowly to face me. My heart in my throat, I came out from behind the column. I expected fury; I expected him to lash at me for straying from his orders. Rather, though, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. His voice low, he said, "You heard everything." Not sure I could talk, I nodded. We neither moved for a second. We were really at war; the weight of the menace loomed over us like a black cloud. Then Enzo moved forward, staring right at me. "I told Bella, right now you are mine. And I protect something personal. His remarks made me shudder down my spine, but I couldn't get rid of the feeling that this was just beginning. The Vitale family was supposed to pay a visit. Moreover, nobody lived in this world with security. Not even mine. The dusk looked darker, the shadows longer as Enzo's warning kept playing in my thoughts. This was a marriage as well. We were in battle here. And I sat just right in the middle of it.Isabella's POVThe room feels like it’s closing in, the flickering light throwing long, jagged shadows that dance around the walls. My heart pounds in my chest, each pulse louder than the previous. The masked person stands in the center, their presence smothering. I can’t pull my eyes away from them. There’s something familiar about the way they carry themselves, the way they tilt their head. But it doesn’t make sense. “Who are you?” I demand, my voice booming across the room. The firearm in my palm feels heavy, my grasp wet with sweat. The figure doesn’t answer. Instead, they take a step closer, their moves deliberate. I push myself to maintain my ground, to not give in to the panic clawing at my chest. Enzo stands by my side, his mouth locked, every muscle in his body rigid. Vincent goes to surround the figure, his gaze furrowed. “Talk,” Enzo growls, his voice low and deadly. “Or I’ll make you.” The figure laughs—a chilly, hollow sound that sends a shudder down my sp
Isabella's POVThe metallic taste of blood fills my lips, and every breath seems like a blade slashing through my lungs. My vision fades, the dim light of the warehouse creating jagged shadows on the walls. But I can’t stop. Not now. Not with Enzo and Vincent by my side, fighting for every precious second of life. “You’re surrounded!” The voice shouts through the darkness, cold and disconnected. I can’t locate it, but I know it's sort—the kind that revels in power and misery. “Show yourself!” I yell, my voice harsh. The exertion sends a surge of anguish through my chest, but I swallow it down. “Coward!” Laughter echoes, cold and terrible. “You really think you can change anything? That you can win?” Beside me, Enzo’s jaw tightens, his eyes burning with rage. “Ignore him,” he adds, his voice low yet forceful. “He wants to rattle us.” “It’s working,” I acknowledge, my fingers clenching around the firearm in my grasp. I can feel the quiver in my hands, the worry hiding
Enzo’s POVThe stillness that follows the combat is deafening. The air stinks of blood and perspiration, the metallic taste mixed with the dust that still clings in the room. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, yet I push myself to stay on my feet. Isabella is by my side, her chest rising and falling with strained breaths. She’s alive. That’s all that matters. “We need to move,” Vincent adds, his voice breaking through the fuzz. He’s drenched in blood, some of it his, yet his eyes remain piercing and unrelenting. “They’ll send reinforcements.” I nod, the weight of his words sinking in my chest. He’s right. We can’t remain here. But every stride seems like a thousand. My body is a tangle of bruises and scrapes, and each breath is a reminder of how close we were to losing everything. “Can you walk?” I ask Isabella, my voice scratchy. She nods, her eyes catching mine. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.” “Too late for that,” I respond, a ghost of a sm
Isabella's POVThe air outside the safe house is frigid, piercing through my ripped garments and sinking deep in my bones. I tighten my grasp on Enzo, feeling every shudder that rushes through his body. He’s barely standing, his breathing short, yet he refuses to let me carry the whole weight. Typical. Stubborn until the end. “Lean on me,” I gasp, my voice trembling. “Please.” “I’m fine,” he spits out, his face pallid but resolute. “Just… a few more steps.” “Liar,” I snap, but there’s no fire behind it. Only dread. The sort that holds your chest and won’t let go. “You’re not fine.” He attempts to grin, but it seems more like a grimace. “Still… breathing.” “Not good enough,” I responded, trying my voice to keep calm. “You have to do better than that.” He doesn’t answer, but his grasp tightens. It’s enough. We keep advancing, every step a struggle against gravity and tiredness. The shadows feel alive, crowding in from all sides. Vincent’s absence is like a dagger i
Isabella's POVThe world blurs around me, a wild combination of screaming, gunfire, and flashing lights. Enzo’s weight feels heavy in my arms, his breath raspy and faint. Blood soaks through my palms, warm and persistent, and terror grips at my chest. This can’t be happening. Not again. “Stay with me,” I murmur, my voice shaking. “You promised.” His eyes twitch, and for a minute, I glimpse a spark of recognition. “I’m… here,” he whispers, the words scarcely audible. “Good,” I answer, attempting a grin that seems more like a grimace. “Then keep fighting.” The firing escalates, bullets ricocheting off the disintegrating buildings surrounding us. Vincent is a whirl of action, his every move precise and lethal. He’s holding them off—for now. But I can see it in his eyes. We’re running out of time. “We need to move,” Vincent cries, his voice piercing through the commotion. “Now!” “I can’t carry him,” I snap back, desperation coloring my words. “Not like this.” “Then we
Enzo’s POVPain is my daily companion. Every breath, every movement feels like a dagger twisting in my chest, yet I fight myself to stay awake. The world blurs at the edges, the gloomy interior of the truck swirling around me. Isabella sits across from me, her face pallid and smeared with blood. Her eyes are asleep, but her hand is curled around mine, a lifeline I’m not ready to let go of. “Almost there,” Vincent replies from the front, his voice strained. I can hear the stress in every phrase, the weight of what we’ve just fled weighing down on all of us. The city lights flash by, a whirlwind of color and turmoil. We’re going too quickly, but I know it’s the only way. We have to remain ahead of them. Isabella stirs, her grip tightening. “Enzo,” she murmurs, her voice faint but resolute. “Don’t… don’t close your eyes.” “I’m not going anywhere,” I say, feigning a grin. It feels empty. “You’re stuck with me.” She attempts to chuckle, but it turns into a cough, her body







