Chapter 5: The Ghost in the Shadows

The weight of Dante’s words followed Isabella long after she left his office.

"Think carefully about whose side you’re on."

The cryptic warning gnawed at her, sending her mind into a storm of doubts. She had spent years surviving on instinct, but now, for the first time, she wasn’t sure who the enemy really was.

As she walked through the dimly lit hallways of the safe house, her fingers twitched at her sides. Dante wasn’t a man to throw around empty threats. He knew something.

The question was—what?

But as she reached the door, something else caught her attention.

Muffled voices.

Low. Tense.

She paused, pressing her ear against the door.

Jason’s voice—sharp, but controlled. "You think I meant to shoot you?"

A pause. Then Alexander’s voice, quieter but laced with steel. "You hesitated. That’s what got me shot."

Jason scoffed. "I hesitated because I didn’t know who the hell to trust in that moment."

Alexander let out a humorless chuckle. "Right. And now?"

Silence.

Then Jason muttered, "Let’s just say I’ve got my priorities straight now."

Something about his tone made Isabella’s stomach twist. What did that mean?

Alexander exhaled. "I need to know, Jason. If it came down to it—" He hesitated, voice dropping lower. "If you had to choose between me and them, which side would you be on?"

Another beat of silence. Then Jason spoke, his voice unreadable.

"That depends."

"On what?"

Jason sighed. "On whether or not you make it worth my while."

A sharp knock of boots against the hallway made Jason mutter, "She’s coming."

Instantly, the room went dead silent.

Isabella straightened, forcing herself to act normal as she pushed open the door.

Alexander was propped up against the pillows, his face impassive. Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his smirk back in place.

But their eyes—they weren’t as casual as they pretended to be.

They were hiding something.

Her eyes narrowed. "What were you talking about?"

Jason smirked. "You sure took your time."

Her jaw clenched. "Answer me."

Alexander met her gaze, his expression frustratingly neutral. "It wasn’t important."

Liar.

Jason simply shrugged. "I was reminding him that I saved his life."

"After shooting him," Isabella shot back.

Jason’s smirk didn’t falter. "Details."

Alexander let out a slow breath, as if tired of the conversation. "It doesn’t matter anymore."

It mattered to her.

But she exhaled. And then said “Dante’s playing his own game too, but he didn’t say what. Just that Callum isn’t the only one we should be worried about.”

Jason cursed under his breath. “Fantastic. That’s just what we need—more problems.”

Alexander’s gaze darkened, his fingers gripping the sheet beneath him. “Did he say anything useful?”

“Only that we need to be careful.” Isabella met his gaze. “I don’t trust him.”

Alexander let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You shouldn’t.”

Something in his voice made her pause.

Jason frowned. “You think he’s setting us up?”

Alexander didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted slightly, wincing as pain tore through his side. Isabella instinctively moved toward him, but before she could touch him, his hand caught hers.

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t pull away.

For a long moment, their hands remained locked together.

It wasn’t a desperate grip. It wasn’t a silent plea.

It was something else. Something unspoken.

Jason cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Isabella quickly pulled her hand back, heat creeping up her neck. “No.”

Jason smirked. “Right.”

Alexander ignored him entirely, his eyes still on her. “You said Dante warned you about something else.”

She nodded. “Yeah. He made it sound like there’s another threat we’re not seeing.”

Jason scoffed. “He’s just trying to mess with our heads.”

“Maybe.” But the uneasy feeling in her gut didn’t agree.

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then—

A loud crash echoed from the hallway.

All three of them went still.

Isabella’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Jason immediately reached for his gun—only to hiss in pain as his injured hand rebelled. His grip faltered, and for a second, the weapon nearly slipped from his grasp.

He clenched his jaw, trying to steady his hold. The wound was still raw, still punishing him for past mistakes.

Alexander saw it. His eyes flicked to Jason’s hand, his expression unreadable.

Jason noticed and forced a smirk. “Don’t say it.”

Alexander didn’t. But he didn’t need to.

Instead, Isabella grabbed her own gun, inching toward the door.

Alexander tried to move, but she turned sharply. “Don’t. You’re still healing.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

Jason gestured for her to move first, biting back another wave of pain as he adjusted his grip.

She pressed against the door, slowly cracking it open.

The hallway was dimly lit. Empty.

But something felt wrong.

The shadows seemed thicker. The silence too heavy.

Then—

A single gunshot ripped through the air.

Jason shoved past her, gun raised, moving fast despite the pain shooting up his arm.

Isabella wasn’t far behind, her pulse racing—

And then she saw it.

The door to Dante’s office was wide open.

And inside—

Dante was gone.

Vanished

The room was in chaos. Papers scattered across the floor, the scent of gunpowder still thick in the air. A single chair lay overturned near the desk, as if someone had struggled.

Dante was nowhere to be seen.

Isabella’s grip tightened around her gun as she cautiously stepped inside. Jason was right behind her, his injured hand still throbbing, but he ignored the pain. Alexander remained at the doorway, his sharp gaze scanning the scene despite his weakened state.

“No blood,” Jason noted. “At least not here.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s fine,” Isabella muttered, moving toward the desk. The drawers were half-open, as if someone had rifled through them in a hurry.

Alexander exhaled slowly. “Either he left willingly or someone took him before he could fight back.”

Jason scoffed. “Dante? The guy’s too damn stubborn to go quietly.”

Isabella wasn’t so sure. She moved to the window—slightly ajar. The wind pushed the curtains lazily, letting in the cold night air. A quick glance outside revealed nothing unusual.

But something felt…off.

Jason picked up a discarded envelope from the desk. It had been torn open, its contents missing. “Whatever was in here, someone wanted it bad.”

“Or Dante was trying to hide it,” Alexander murmured.

Isabella turned back toward them. “We need to figure out what the hell is going on.”

Jason glanced at his watch, then at the door. “First, we need to make sure we’re not next.”

A distant noise made them all freeze.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Getting closer.

Jason and Isabella raised their guns.

Alexander gritted his teeth, pushing off the doorframe. He might not be at full strength, but he wasn’t about to be a sitting target.

The footsteps stopped just outside the room.

A long pause.

Then—

A shadow moved beneath the door.

Whoever it was…they weren’t alone.

The tension in the safe house was suffocating. The unknown presence outside the door had vanished just as quickly as it arrived, but the unease lingered.

Isabella’s thoughts raced as she paced the room. Dante’s disappearance wasn’t a coincidence, and whatever was going on—it was bigger than they had anticipated.

But she wasn’t the only one dealing with problems.

Miles away, in the heart of the city, Callum sat in his dimly lit office, his fingers drumming against the polished wooden desk. His patience was wearing thin.

“Still no word from our inside source?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Across from him, Vincent, his most trusted enforcer, shook his head. “Dante’s gone dark. No communication, no sightings. And our contact inside his operation has been… unresponsive.”

Callum exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like silence, Vincent. It usually means someone is playing a game I’m not part of.”

Vincent nodded. “We could push harder. Track his last movements. There was an exchange of information—something important.”

Callum’s gaze sharpened. “Find out what it was. And if Dante turns up… make sure he understands his mistake.”

A Trail of Ghosts

Back at the safe house, Dante’s disappearance wasn’t the only thing keeping them on edge.

Jason sat on the edge of the desk, flexing his injured hand. Pain flared up his arm as he tried to ignore it, but when he reached for his gun earlier, it had been a harsh reminder that he wasn’t at full strength.

Alexander, though still recovering, noticed. “You’re pushing it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to sit around and rest.”

Alexander’s stare was unreadable. “We need you at full capacity. If we go into this half-cocked, we’re dead.”

Jason clenched his jaw. “Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Meanwhile, Isabella hadn’t stopped searching the room for clues. Her fingers skimmed over the edge of the desk before pausing near the torn envelope Jason found earlier. A name was scribbled on the remaining slip of paper inside.

Her stomach twisted.

It wasn’t a name she expected.

Before she could speak, Jason’s phone buzzed. He answered quickly, but the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his entire demeanor changed.

“What do you mean they found something?” he asked.

Silence.

Then Jason stood abruptly, his face pale.

“We need to go,” he said. “Now.”

A Message in Blood

The drive to the location Jason’s contact had given them was tense. The city lights blurred past the windows, but Isabella barely noticed. Her mind was spinning.

Dante had vanished. Callum was making moves. And now, someone had found something—something urgent enough to make Jason’s expression go stone cold.

Alexander sat in the backseat, his breathing even but his face pale. He wasn’t fully healed, but there was no stopping him now.

Jason’s injured hand rested on the wheel, his fingers tense. He hadn’t said a word since the call.

Finally, Isabella broke the silence. “Where exactly are we going?”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “A warehouse near the docks. One of my people found… a message.”

Alexander raised a brow. “A message?”

Jason hesitated. Then: “In blood.”

The weight of his words sank in. Isabella exchanged a look with Alexander. Whoever left that message wanted them to see it.

And that meant it was personal.

The Warehouse

When they arrived, the air was thick with salt and rust. The docks were quiet—too quiet.

Jason parked the car, his movements slower than usual. Pain still flickered in his gaze every time he moved his hand. Isabella noticed but said nothing. There were bigger problems right now.

Inside the warehouse, the first thing she noticed was the stench of blood.

The second was the body.

A man—one of Dante’s men—was strung up against the wall, his chest marked with deep gashes. Blood had pooled beneath him, soaking into the concrete.

And scrawled across the wall, in that same blood, was a message:

"STAY OUT OF THIS."

A warning. A threat.

Jason exhaled harshly. “Well, that’s subtle.”

Alexander’s expression hardened. “This wasn’t just about sending a message. They wanted to send it to us specifically.”

Isabella’s stomach churned. “Callum?”

Jason shook his head. “No. This isn’t his style. He’s more about control—power plays. This?” He gestured to the gruesome display. “This is something else.”

A chill ran down Isabella’s spine.

If it wasn’t Callum… who the hell was it?

The Missing Link

Alexander moved closer to examine the body, his eyes narrowing at something in the dead man’s clenched fist. Carefully, he pried it open.

A torn scrap of paper.

Jason stepped closer. “What is it?”

Alexander turned it over. There was only one thing written on it.

A name.

Isabella felt her breath catch.

Because she recognized it.

And if this person was involved…

Then everything was about to get a whole lot worse.

The Ghost from the Past

The warehouse felt colder now. The dim overhead light flickered, casting eerie shadows against the bloodstained wall. The name on the scrap of paper burned in Isabella’s mind, a ghost from a past she thought she had buried.

She barely heard Jason and Alexander talking. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The name—that name—wasn’t just familiar. It was a warning, a nightmare resurfacing after years of silence.

A Memory She Never Forgot

She was ten the first time she saw him. A rainy evening. Her mother was still alive then, her laughter still a melody in their home.

They had gone out—just the three of them. A rare night when her father wasn’t drowning in work. The restaurant was elegant, filled with low murmurs and clinking glasses. But then—he walked in.

Tall, broad-shouldered, a presence that made the air grow heavy.

She didn’t know why at the time, but the moment her father saw him, he stiffened—like a soldier anticipating war. And then—without a word—he pulled her behind him, shielding her with his entire frame.

It was subtle. But it was there.

Her mother, always the calm one, had smiled politely. “Let’s get a table farther in,” she had murmured, her voice too smooth, too casual.

Her father didn’t argue.

She didn’t understand the tension—not then. But even as they moved, her small hand in her mother’s, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes.

Cold. Calculating. Dead inside.

The Night of Blood

The second time…

She wished she could forget.

She had woken up to shouting.

A storm raged outside, thunder shaking the windows, but it was the voices downstairs that sent a chill through her.

Curious, she had tiptoed to the railing, peering down into her father’s study. He wasn’t alone.

That man was there.

And so was one of her father’s most trusted men—his right hand.

At least… he had been.

Until the gunshot.

Isabella had gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as the body slumped forward onto her father’s desk, blood pooling across polished mahogany.

The man—that man—hadn’t even flinched.

He had simply tilted his head, his expression one of mild curiosity, as if he had just crushed an insect.

“Consider this a lesson,” he had said, his voice cold as steel.

Her father had done nothing.

Not because he was afraid.

Because he couldn’t afford to retaliate—not then.

Not yet.

And in that moment, Isabella had understood.

This man wasn’t just a rival.

He was a monster.

A ghost her father never spoke of again.

Back to the Present

Now, years later, standing in a bloodstained warehouse with Alexander and Jason watching her, Isabella felt that same prickle of fear crawl up her spine.

A Name That Changes Everything

Isabella’s fingers tightened around the piece of paper, her heart hammering against her ribs.

That name.

She knew it. But how did they?

Jason and Alexander’s reactions were instant—dark gazes, tense shoulders, a shared look that screamed secrets.

Her stomach twisted.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to them. “How do you know him?”

Silence.

Jason was the first to move. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before shoving his gun back into its holster. “Does it matter?”

Isabella’s brows shot up. “Yes, Jason. It does.”

Alexander said nothing.

Which was worse.

Her gaze snapped to him, searching his face for answers, but his expression remained unreadable, the kind of stillness that only came with careful restraint.

It wasn’t nothing.

And they weren’t just brushing off her question.

They were hiding something.

Something big.

A slow chill crept down her spine.

“Alex,” she said carefully. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he shifted, adjusting his position, a subtle wince betraying the pain in his side.

Jason folded his arms. “Look, Isabella—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharper than she intended. “Don’t dismiss me like I’m stupid. I know who this man is. What I don’t know is why you do.”

Jason’s jaw ticked.

Another shared glance between them.

Another unspoken conversation she wasn’t a part of.

And suddenly—everything clicked.

The hushed conversation in Dante’s house. The way they had gone silent the moment she walked in. The tension in their eyes when she asked about it.

The missing pieces of a puzzle that had been staring her in the face the whole time.

They had been talking about him.

Her pulse spiked, panic and fury colliding inside her. “You knew.”

Jason’s lips parted, but no words came.

“You knew he was involved,” she accused. “That’s what you were talking about at Dante’s.”

Neither of them denied it.

Her stomach turned violently.

The betrayal burned through her like acid.

The marriage. The deals. The lies.

Her father had spent years protecting her from this world. And now, because of them, she was drowning in it.

And her stepmother—God, her stepmother—

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“Isabella,” Alexander said, his voice quieter now.

She shook her head, stepping back. “I don’t even know who I married, do I?”

Alexander flinched, just barely, but she caught it.

Jason sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

“It never is,” she murmured.

For the first time in her life, she truly regretted this marriage.

She had traded one prison for another.

And this time, there was no one left to protect her.

Not even herself.

Jason's phone buzzed, vibrating loudly against the tension-filled silence. He checked the screen, his expression darkening instantly.

His grip on the phone tightened.

“What is it?” Isabella demanded.

No response.

Jason turned away, muttering something to Alexander in a low, clipped tone.

Her pulse spiked. “Jason.”

Still, nothing.

Alexander exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before finally meeting her gaze.

"You're in danger."

Her blood ran cold.

Jason cursed under his breath. "We need to move. Now."

"What?" Isabella's voice rose. "From who?"

She didn't miss the flicker of hesitation in Jason's eyes.

Then—

The lights cut out.

A power outage? No. This was deliberate.

A second later, a gunshot cracked through the air.

And then—chaos.

Glass shattered. Heavy boots thundered down the hall. A deep voice barked orders—in Spanish.

Her breath hitched.

She knew the language. Recognized it. But the words? They were too fast, too sharp, slipping through her grasp like water.

Still, she understood one thing—whoever they were, they weren’t here to talk.

Someone was coming.

No—they were already here.

Jason lunged for her just as the door burst open.

A masked man stormed inside, gun raised—

And Alexander, despite his injuries, shot first.

The intruder collapsed with a strangled cry, but there were more.

So many more.

Jason grabbed Isabella by the arm, his grip bruising. “Run.”

She didn’t argue.

Because if this was who they had been hiding her from—

She wasn’t sure she wanted the full truth anymore.

But it was too late.

It had already found her.