Hidden Knives( Adrian Caught Isabella)

Adrian POV

"Business doesn’t stop for grief. The Moretti empire demands attention, control, precision, and a spine of steel." My father used to say that. I used to think it was cruel. Now, it’s the only truth left.

I stand in the study, sleeves rolled up, the desk buried under ledgers and coded reports. The lamp casts a dull yellow glow across the papers, and the smell of old leather and gun oil mixes in the air. Luca leans beside me, flipping through a folder, his expression tight.

“We have shipments delayed,” he mutters, eyes scanning. “And there’s chatter in Palermo. Someone’s testing us.”

I clench my jaw. Testing us. That word grates on me. “Not just Palermo,” I say. “Someone close wants me dead.”

Luca glances up, reading the tension in my voice. “You think it’s connected to your father’s assassination?”

I didn't answer right away. The memory still burns, the gunfire, the smell of blood, my father’s voice fading in my arms. Someone close.

Finally, I nod. “Whoever struck yesterday knew the family. They knew when, how, and where to hit. That wasn’t random. That was strategy.”

Luca exhales slowly, his hand brushing the holster at his waist. “Then it’s war.”

“Not yet,” I say. “Not until I know who I’m fighting.”

The clock ticks. Outside, the crickets sing like a warning. I rub the back of my neck, exhaustion crawling under my skin. My reflection in the window looks like a stranger, hard eyes, jaw set, the face of a man who’s already buried too much.

Isabella’s reflection appears behind mine for a brief second before she enters the room. Her steps are soft, her perfume faint and floral—a small piece of calm in the storm. She’s wrapped in silk, her hair loose, her eyes filled with concern.

“You should rest,” she says gently.

“I can’t,” I reply. “There’s too much to handle.”

She steps closer, her voice barely a whisper. “Then at least eat something.”

For a moment, her care disarms me. I turn toward her, searching her expression for truth. All I find is softness. It makes me want to believe in her. To believe that not everyone around me is a threat.

But the back of my mind whispers differently. Someone close wants you dead.

I push the thought aside. “I’ll rest later,” I tell her. “Go to bed. It’s not safe being awake this late.”

She hesitates, then nods and leaves quietly. The faint click of the door sounds final.

I return to the documents, but I can’t focus. My eyes drift to the door she disappeared through. Something about her movements, too light, too cautious, gnaws at me.

Then, A sound.

A dull thud echoes from the entrance. My instincts kick in before my mind does. I grab my gun, the cold metal steady in my hand, and move toward the noise.

“Who’s there?” My voice cuts through the silence.

Nothing.

Just the wind through the courtyard—or maybe something else. I thought in my mind.

Luca’s already on his feet. “We need to check the perimeter,” he says, his tone low. “Could be another attempt.”

I nod once. Together, we step into the night.

The air is cold, sharp against my skin. The moonlight spills across the gravel path, glinting off the black car parked under the archway. Everything seems ordinary—until Luca suddenly freezes.

“Adrian,” he says quietly.

I stop. “What?”

He crouches, shining his flashlight beneath the driver’s side. His face drains of color.

“Bomb,” he whispers. “Under the car. Someone planted it.”

The world goes still. My pulse slows, but my mind explodes with motion.

“How bad?” I ask.

“Military grade. Triggered by ignition.”

I swallow hard, jaw tightening. Someone was planning for me to get in that car tonight.

“Remove it,” I order, voice calm despite the storm inside me.

Luca nods, pulling a toolkit from his jacket. His hands move with practiced precision. I stand guard, eyes sweeping the perimeter, gun raised, breath shallow. Every second stretches like an hour.

The air smells of oil and cold metal. Somewhere in the distance, an owl calls.

Finally, Luca straightens, holding the device, a small, ugly thing that hums faintly with malice.

“It’s done,” he says, breathing hard. “But Adrian… they’re serious. This isn’t a warning. Someone close wants you dead.”

I stare at the device, the fury building in my chest.

“Then I’ll find them,” I say quietly. “And when I do, I’ll make sure they never touch this house again.”

Luca nods, but there’s something in his eyes—fear, maybe. Or pity. He’s seen this side of me before. The one that surfaces when there’s nothing left to lose.

We return inside. The night is silent again, but it feels like the calm before something darker.

As I lock the door behind us, I can’t shake the thought that the bomb wasn’t meant to scare me. It was meant to send a message.

And whoever sent it… knows me too well.

The night refuses to rest.

Even after Luca disarms the bomb, the silence doesn’t feel like safety, it feels like waiting. Waiting for the next move, the next betrayal. I can almost hear my father’s voice whispering from the walls: “Trust no one, not even yourself.”

Luca stays behind to tighten security, but I keep moving. Every door I pass, every flicker of shadow feels alive. The villa was built to be a fortress, but tonight it feels like a trap—one that someone inside already knows how to open.

I walk through the main hall, the marble floors cold under my steps. The portraits of my ancestors watch from the walls, their eyes fixed, judging. They all ruled through blood, through fear. I used to despise that. Now I understand why they did it. Mercy gets you killed in this life.

I stop by the window. The garden outside is still, touched only by the silver light of the moon. For a brief second, I think I see movement—something soft, a shadow gliding between the hedges. I tense, hand on my gun, but then I hear it.

A voice.

Faint. Familiar.

“Adrian…”

It’s her. Isabella.

My breath catches. She shouldn’t be outside. Not tonight.

I follow the sound, quiet, steady. My shoes barely make a sound against the stone floor. The closer I get, the clearer her voice becomes—low, trembling, yet deliberate.

“I won’t stop until he pays for what he did.”

I freeze. The words cut through the night like glass.

He pays for what he did.

My mind races. Who is she talking about? And why does it sound like she means me?

I move closer to the doorway that opens into the garden, my heartbeat steady but heavy. The scent of jasmine drifts in with the wind. Shadows move, slow and deliberate, and then I see her. Isabella.

She stands near the stone archway, her back to me. She’s speaking to someone hidden in the dark—someone I can’t see.

Every instinct screams for me to step out, to demand the truth. But I don’t. I stay still. Listening.

Her voice lowers, almost carried away by the wind.

“He trusts me completely. He can’t see what’s coming.”

The ground tilts beneath me for a second. My chest tightens. I force myself to breathe slowly, quietly, even as my stomach twists.

Luca was right. Someone close.

But not her. It can’t be her.

I step back slowly, hidden behind the doorframe. I can’t hear the rest—only fragments, soft murmurs, a laugh that isn’t hers. Then silence. Footsteps fade.

A few seconds later, she appears again, walking back toward the villa. Her face is calm, untouched by guilt, her hands folded as if she’d been praying. She doesn’t see me in the shadows.

When she’s gone, I finally exhale. My grip tightens on the gun until my knuckles turn white.

I tell myself there’s an explanation. There has to be. But the seed of doubt is planted, and it digs deep.

By the time I return to the study, Luca is waiting. He’s reading my face like a map of bad news.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Just checking the grounds.”

He studies me a second longer, but doesn’t push. “Guards are doubled. No one comes in or out without clearance.”

“Good,” I say. “Keep it that way.”

I pour myself a drink, the amber liquid catching the dim light as it swirls in the glass. My reflection stares back from the surface. Tired eyes, they looked haunted and half-lost. I took a slow sip. It burns, but it’s grounding.

Behind me, Luca says quietly, “You’re thinking too much.”

“I have to,” I answer. “Thinking keeps me alive.”

He gives a short nod and leaves.

The door clicks shut. Silence again.

I sit there for a long time, the glass still in my hand, my mind running through every possible explanation for what I heard. Betrayal. Lies. Manipulation. Or maybe I’m just seeing ghosts where there are none.

The lamp flickers once, twice. The shadows shift along the walls, stretching like claws.

Then I hear it again.

“Adrian…”

Her voice. This time, closer.

I stand, gun ready. The door creaks open, and Isabella steps inside, her face bathed in the warm light of the lamp. She looks soft, innocent, untouched by whatever I just witnessed.

“There you are,” she says quietly. “I was looking for you. You didn’t come to bed.”

I watch her carefully. Every gesture, every blink. She’s flawless. If she’s lying, she’s perfected the art of it.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply.

She smiles gently, crossing the room. Her hand grazes my arm, and I feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “You need rest. You’ve been through enough.”

I should pull away. Instead, I let her hand stay.

“Yeah,” I murmur, voice low. “Just… too much on my mind.”

She nods, her eyes searching mine. “You’re not alone, Adrian.”

I force a smile, small and tired. “I know.”

But I don’t. Not anymore.

She rests her head against my shoulder. Her perfume is soft, familiar. I close my eyes for a moment, and all the noise, the doubt, the tension it fades. I want to believe in her. I want to believe she’s not the threat I think she is.

But the words echo again in my head.

He trusts me completely.

He can’t see what’s coming.

Her heartbeat is steady against me, calm and slow. Mine isn’t.

I open my eyes and stare past her, into the dark window where our reflections blur together.

The night outside holds its breath.

And I realize, for the first time, that the danger isn’t just around me. It might be right here, in my arms