Chapter 11: The Predator’s Grip.

The morning light filtered through the grime- covered windows of the cabin illuminating the room brightly, it didn’t even make we want to stand up from the bed, it just reminded me where I was. I felt the air before I even opened my eyes. It was heavy, still, and impossibly cold.

But I wasn't cold.

I felt a solid, radiating heat pressed against my back. A heavy arm was draped over my waist, the palm of a large hand resting flat against my stomach. I could feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat through the fabric of my dress. For a second, my brain scrambled to make sense of it. Then the memory of the bank, the empty vault, and the drive into the woods came rushing back.

Luca was holding me.

He wasn't just holding me; he was anchored to me like I was the last thing on earth. His face was buried in the space between my shoulder blades, and his breath was slow and hitching, like someone who was running even while they slept. He moved slightly, his fingers twitching against my skin, and his grip tightened. It wasn't the grip of a man who wanted to own me. It felt like the grip of someone who needed me.

I stayed perfectly still. I didn't even breathe.

I knew I should pull away. I should be disgusted or terrified. But in the quiet of that broken-down cabin, with the wind whistling through the floorboards, it felt different. For the first time since he had snatched me off the street, he didn't feel like a King. He felt human.

I wondered what he was going on in his head. Was he seeing the men he had lost at the bank? Was he seeing the father who had turned him into a weapon?

I closed my eyes and let myself stay there for one more minute. I felt the sharp edge of the brass key tucked into my bra, pressing against my chest. The guilt pricked at me. He was protecting me, in his own twisted way, and I was lying to him with every breath I took.

Suddenly, he behind me jolted.

His eyes snapped open, and he let out a sharp, jagged intake of breath. In an instant, the warmth was gone. He scrambled backward, his hand flying under the pillow. I heard the unmistakable metallic click of a safety being flicked off. He was sitting upright, his chest heaving, his eyes wild as they searched the dark corners of the room.

I sat up slowly, pulling the thin blanket around my shoulders. "It’s just me, Luca. It’s just me."

He froze. His gaze snapped to mine. The vulnerability I had seen for that split second, that raw, haunted look, disappeared so fast it was like it had never been there. The shutters slammed down. His face turned back into that familiar mask.

He didn't put the gun away immediately. He held it for a beat longer, his knuckles almost turning white, before he tucked it back under the pillow. He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair and stood up.

"You were having a nightmare," I said softly.

Luca didn't look at me. He started pacing the small room, his bare feet silent on the dusty wood. "I don't have nightmares, Isabella, you were probably mistaken.”

"You were holding onto me like you were afraid I’d disappear," I teased. I didn't know where the boldness came from. Maybe I just wanted to see him flinch or smile. "I didn't know the ruthless Mafia King was such a cuddler."

Luca stopped pacing. He turned to look at me, and his expression was so flat it was chilling. He didn't smile. He didn't even look annoyed. He just looked at me.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said, his voice raspy. "It was freezing in here. It was a tactical decision to maintain body heat. Nothing more."

"A tactical decision?" I let out a laugh. "You were practically snoring in my ear, Luca. You were out cold. You even said my name in your sleep." I lied, smirking at him.

"I was watching you," he snapped. He stepped closer to the bed, looming over me. "I was awake half the night making sure you didn't decide to take a walk into the woods. If I was holding you, it was to ensure you wouldn’t run away. It was a mistake to let my guard drop that much. It won't happen again."

He walked over to the small kitchen area and started messing with an old metal pot. The domestic spark from a moment ago was dead. He was back to being the man who had captured me and forced me to marry him.

"You’re a liar," I whispered, but I made sure he heard me.

He turned around, a piece of dry bread in his hand. He looked at me for a long time. "Whatever you say Isa. Now, get up, we have work to do."

He was back to calling me Isa again.

"What work?" I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "The vault was empty. You said it yourself, my father played us."

"He played me," Luca corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "He wouldn't play you. He loved you too much for that. Which means there is something else. Something you’re missing."

I felt a cold bead of sweat roll down my forehead. I thought about the key. I thought about the note. I had to start planting the seeds now, or he would eventually figure out I was hiding something.

"I’ve been thinking about that," I said, walking over to the small table. "About the things he used to say when I was little. He was obsessed with the past. With the house where I grew up."

Luca paused, his hand on the back of a chair. "The estate that burned down?"

"Yeah, my grandmother’s house," I said. "It wasn't an estate. It was just an old farmhouse. But he used to take me there every summer. He told me that no matter what happened in the world, the earth there would always keep our secrets."

"The earth?" Luca asked, his eyes narrowing. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know," I lied. "Maybe nothing. Maybe he was just being the weird, poetic man he always was. But he always said that if we ever got lost, we should go there."

"The Vanchis burned that house to the ground ten years ago, Isa" he said. "There’s nothing left but ash and stone."

"Maybe," I said. "But he always said that fire can't kill what’s buried deep enough."

Luca didn't say anything for a long time. He just stared at me, trying to read my face. I kept my expression as neutral as possible. I needed him to think this was my idea, but I also needed him to think I was just as confused as he was.

A low rumble of an engine sounded from outside. He was at the window in a second, his gun back in his hand. He peered through a crack in the curtains.

"It’s Enzo," he said, relaxing his shoulders.

A minute later, the door creaked open. Enzo walked in, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. His clothes were covered in gray dust, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked at Luca and nodded.

"The car is outside," Enzo said. "It’s an old Ford. Nondescript. No GPS, no trackers. I swapped the plates twice on the way here."

"Good," Luca said. "What’s the word from the city?"

Enzo glanced at me, then back at Luca. "It’s a bloodbath, Boss. The Vanchis are furious about the bank. They think you have the diamond and you’re just hiding it. They’ve put a price on both of your heads. A big one."

"How big?"

"Big enough that some of our own guys are starting to look at each other sideways," Enzo said. "They don't want the diamond anymore, Luca. They want the 'key' dead. I believe they think if Isabella is gone, you lose your leverage forever."

I felt a chill go through me. "They want to kill me?"

"Yes," Enzo said bluntly. "You’re the only thing standing between Luca and a total loss. In their eyes, if you die, Luca loses the war."

Luca stepped toward me, his hand resting on my shoulder softly. "No one is erasing anything. We’re moving."

Enzo looked at both of me then at Luca.

"Where to?" Enzo asked.

"The old Romano farm," Luca said.

Enzo blinked. "The ruins? There’s nothing there but snakes and scorched dirt, Boss. Why would we go there?"

"Because Isabella has a 'hunch,'" Luca said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked at me, his eyes hard and searching. "And right now, a hunch is all we have left."

"Luca, if we go there, we’re out in the open," Enzo warned. "It’s a flat plain. If they find us, we’ll have nowhere to run."

"Then don't let them find us," Luca snapped. "Get the bags. We leave in five minutes."

Enzo sighed but didn't argue. He started grabbing the few things we had brought into the cabin. I stood by the table, my heart racing. It was working. I was leading the Luca exactly where I wanted him to go.

Luca walked over to me. He stood so close I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He reached out and grabbed my chin, his grip firm.

"Listen to me, Isabella," he whispered. "I’m betting my life and Enzo’s life on your memory. If we get to those ruins and there is nothing but dirt... if I find out you’re leading me on a wild goose chase to buy yourself time..."

"I’m not," I said, my voice trembling.

"I hope not," he said. "Because if this is another dead end, the protection ends. You won't be my wife anymore. You’ll just be a Romano who wasted my time. Do you understand what happens to people who waste my time?"

"Sure," I said.

He let go of my chin and turned toward the door. "Then let’s go. And Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"Don't think for a second that because I held you last night, I’ve gone soft. I was watching you. I’m always watching you."

I followed him out into the cold morning air. The sun was finally starting to break through the clouds, but it didn't feel warm. I climbed into the back of the dusty Ford, sitting behind Luca. As Enzo pulled out of the clearing, I caught Luca’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

He wasn't looking at the road. He was looking at me.

I looked away, staring out at the trees as they blurred past. I reached into my dress and touched the brass key. I was playing a game with a man who killed for a living.

As we hit the main road, I saw a small black shape in the sky, hovering far above the trees. It was a drone. My heart stopped.

"Luca," I whispered.

"I see it," he said, his voice flat. He didn't look scared. He seemed ready. "Enzo, floor it."

The car surged forward, and the chase began again.