Isabellas pov The SUV barreled through the rain-slicked roads, tires hydroplaning on every sharp turn. I sat rigid in the back seat, my body aching from resting on the hard wall of that room, my clothes clinging to me like a second skin soaked in fear and grime. Luca was beside me, his presence a wall of tension and something I refused to name. His men drove like demons, evading unseen tails, but all I could focus on was the man who had just “rescued” me. *¿Fue realmente Carlo?* (Was it really Carlo?)Or was this another elaborate game? “¡Traicionero!”(Treacherous!) The word had burst from me in the warehouse, and it echoed in my head now. I glared at him, arms crossed tightly over my chest. When he reached out to check a bruise on my arm, I jerked away sharply. “Don’t touch me, Luca. Not after everything. Not- after- everything!” I snapped loudly. My blood was boiling. When is it ever normal with him? When?? “Isabella,” he started, voice low and urgent, but I cut him off with a
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