Chapter 2

Isabella's POV]

The blast threw me backward.

Dante's arm locked around my waist, dragging me against his chest as splinters of wood and glass rained across the study. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything except the thundering of my own heart.

"Move!" Dante shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I couldn't move. My legs had turned to jelly, my feet rooted to the expensive Persian rug as shadows poured through the destroyed doorway. Men in black tactical gear flooded the room like cockroaches escaping light. Guns raised and their faces were masked.

Luca was already firing, his gunshots cracking through the air like thunder. Matteo flipped a mahogany table onto its side, using it as cover while he returned fire. 

Enzo—where was Enzo?

I spun, searching for the youngest brother, and found him standing perfectly still in the center of the room with no weapon drawn and no sign of fear on his face. Just that unsettling smile, his dark eyes fixed on the intruders like they were his personal playthings.

"Dante, get her out!" Luca yelled, squeezing off another round. "Now!"

Dante's grip on my waist tightened, and he hauled me toward the back of the study. My feet scrambled against the floor, barely keeping up with his brutal pace. A bullet whizzed past my ear, so close I felt the heat of it.

"Faster," Dante commanded, shoving me through a narrow doorway I hadn't noticed before. A hidden passage and funny enough, these people had hidden passages.

"I can't…my legs…" I gasped.

"Then crawl," Dante ordered, his voice devoid of sympathy.

He didn't wait for me to comply. Dante grabbed the back of my blouse and practically threw me into the darkness. I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against cold concrete, and then he was behind me, slamming a metal door shut and sealing us in blackness.

I cried but not loud because the whole situation was so terrifying.

I lay on the floor, heaving, my lungs burning with each desperate breath. Somewhere behind that door, his brothers were fighting, or maybe dying and I was here, trembling in the dark like the coward my father always accused me of being.

"Get up," Dante said. His voice was ice with no warmth or comfort. 

I pushed myself to my knees, my palms stinging from the fall. "Your brothers…"

"Can handle themselves," Dante cut me off, grabbing my arm again and hauling me upright. "We have thirty seconds before they find this door. Move."

I moved, but who wouldn't? I didn't have an option though.

The passage was narrow, barely wide enough for the two of us to walk side by side. Dante's hand never left my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh like he was afraid I'd dissolve into smoke if he let go. I could barely see anything—just the faint glow of his watch as he navigated the darkness with practiced ease.

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

"Basement. Garage. Car," Dante replied, each word clipped and efficient. "You get in, you stay down, you don't make a sound. Understood?"

"Yes," I breathed. "I understand."

We reached a metal staircase, and Dante descended without hesitation. I followed, my heels clicking against the steel grate, every sound magnified in the suffocating silence. My mind raced with questions, who were those men? How did they find us? Why did they want me?

"Your enemy," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "They knew I was here."

"Obviously," Dante replied flatly.

"Then why didn't you have more security?" I pressed. "Why weren't you prepared?"

Dante stopped so abruptly I crashed into his back. He turned, and even in the near-darkness, I could feel the heat of his fury.

"Because," Dante said through clenched teeth, "I didn't expect your father to sell you to them too."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

My father. The man I'd defended just minutes ago. The man I'd told myself couldn't possibly be that monstrous.

"He... he wouldn't," I stammered, but even I didn't believe it anymore.

"He would," Dante countered flatly. "He did." He resumed walking, his voice cold and emotionless. "The night he took the loan from us, he also took one from the Russo family, our enemy and he played both sides, Isabella. And now he's playing you."

I stumbled, my legs finally giving out. I caught myself against the cold concrete wall, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Why would he do that?" I choked out. "I'm his daughter."

Dante stopped again, and this time he turned to face me fully. His cold eyes softened in a fraction, just for a moment and he said something I never expected.

"Because your father is a coward who values his own skin more than yours," Dante said quietly. "But I don't."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward again, and I didn't resist. I couldn't. My mind was too full of my father's face, his apologies, his lies.

We reached a door at the end of the passage. Dante pressed his thumb to a scanner, and the lock clicked open. We stepped into a cavernous garage, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Two black SUVs sat waiting, engines already purring.

"Get in," Dante ordered, pointing to the passenger seat of the nearest vehicle.

I scrambled inside, my hands shaking so badly I could barely fasten my seatbelt. Dante slid into the driver's seat, his movements calm, controlled, terrifying. He keyed something into the dashboard, and a screen flickered to life—security camera footage of the study.

My stomach dropped at what I saw.

Luca was on the floor, blood streaming from his shoulder, but he was still firing. Matteo had been pinned behind the overturned table, his pistol empty, a knife now in his hand. And Enzo…Enzo was standing over the body of an intruder, his boot on the man's chest, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

"They'll hold them off," Dante said, watching the screen with cold detachment. "For now."

"But they're hurt…" I started.

"They know what they signed up for," Dante interrupted, slamming the SUV into gear and peeling out of the garage. Tires screeched against concrete. "Your concern is touching. Misplaced, but touching."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream at him about his brothers bleeding on that floor while he drove us away. But the look in his eyes stopped me cold. He wasn't running away, he was preserving someone and I realized with a jolt of horror that that someone was me.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

Dante's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He didn't answer for a long moment. The garage door rose, and we shot out into the night, the city lights blurring past us.

"Because you're the key," Dante finally said. "And I don't lose my keys."

We sped through the streets, Dante weaving through traffic with the precision of a man who'd done this a hundred times. I clutched the door handle, my heart racing, my mind swirling with everything I'd learned.

My father had sold me to two families: The Valentis and Russos. Both are dangerous.

And somewhere in the middle, I was the key to destroying one of them.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, watching the city fade behind us.

Dante's jaw tightened. "Somewhere the Russos can't reach you," he said. "Somewhere even your father doesn't know about."

The SUV picked up speed, and the lights of the city disappeared entirely, replaced by darkness and endless roads.

"Your father," Dante said quietly, "has been digging his own grave for years and tonight, he's finally going to lie in it."

I stared at him, my breath catching. "You're going to kill him."

Dante met my eyes, and the coldness there was absolute.

"I'm going to make him wish I had," Dante replied.