Page 69 of Marriage of Revenge

As Isabella mentions Radomir and Henrik, Beppe my security chief and one of the few other men I'd trust with my life, speaks up. His voice carries the kind of tension that usually precedes bloodshed. "Boss, Radomir's been too quiet lately. No movement in his territory, no usual power plays. Like asnake coiling before it strikes." The room erupts in murmurs of agreement - they've all seen how silence from Radomir usually means death is coming.

"My father doesn't play solo when he knows he can force someone's hand another way." Isabella's words cut through the tension. "This auction you won?" A shiver runs through her body, making the torn wedding dress shift against her skin. "I don't think you won as much as you think you did."

Something in her tone makes my blood heat. I cross to her in three strides, fingers gripping her chin. It's meant to be a show of power, but the moment our eyes lock, electricity arcs between us. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you lost."

Her eyes darken, pupils dilating, and that flush creeping up her neck tells me she feels this too - this dangerous pull between us. "Naomi," she whispers, desperate. "You promised."

Her pulse races under my fingertips, and for a moment I'm drowning in her - her scent, her warmth, the way she unconsciously leans into my touch. Fuck. I release her like she burns, because she does. She burns everything she touches.

"What have you found so far?" I demand, forcing my attention back to my team before I do something stupid like taste that pulse point still thrumming against my fingers.

My voice cuts through the tension like a blade through skin. Silvia, who's been Franco's right hand almost as long as I've known her, steps forward. "They knew our rounds too well - like they'd been mapping our movements for weeks." She looks around the room where Doc moves from patient to patient, his hands never stopping. "We're going through every bit of surveillance footage we have. Nobody's this good at infiltration without leaving traces."

She sinks back into her chair, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. The room feels like a war zone - the acrid smell of gunpowder still clinging to clothes, blood drying on expensivesuits. Franco by the fireplace with a bandaged shoulder, others scattered around in various states of injury, Doc and his team working tirelessly. And those are just the ones who made it. Too many didn't.

These men and women - they were more than soldiers. They were mine. Family. And now they're just reminders of how quickly everything can turn to ash. This wasn't just an attack; it was a declaration of war against everything I've built since clawing my way back from the flames.

I've spent years ensuring loyalty, determined not to become the monster my former stepfather was. Yet here I am, hunting traitors in my own ranks again. The bitter irony tastes like blood in my mouth - another legacy of the past I thought I'd burned away. The past Isabella helped destroy.

Damn it.

My hand finds the back of my neck, fingers pressing against where Henrik's poisoned blade nearly ended me. The wound throbs in time with my pulse, a reminder that I can't afford to let this spiral further.

I need alliances, not enemies.

Beppe chimes in. "Boss, we also need to check our internal communications. If there's a leak, it might be coming from there."

I nod, appreciating his sharp mind. "Good point. Tighten up the comms security. No more leaks." My voice drops lower, calmer - the kind of calm that makes smarter men run. "Talking about security - make sure every point of entry is enemy-proof. We can't afford any more losses. This isn't just about retaliation; it's about survival." I look around at my team's faces, exhausted but determined. "We've been hit hard, but we're not broken. We'll strike back, and we'll hit where it hurts. But first, we secure our turf. No more surprises. We're at war, and I intend to win."

Franco nods from his position by the fire, and I bite back the urge to tell him to rest. He wouldn't listen anyway - that's why he's my second, my brother in everything but blood.

"Review the cameras. All of them. If the system has been compromised, I'll go in and retrieve what we need myself. If that's been destroyed..." My lips curve into a predator's smile. "Then our list of suspects gets very short. Not many can break those defenses, and they all leave traces." I inhale deeply, tasting victory. "Naomi's father couldn't have acted alone. And you're right." My eyes find Isabella again, pinning her in place. "This was orchestrated by your father." I pause, letting the silence stretch. "Dear."

She recoils slightly at the endearment dripping with venom, and something dark and hungry stirs in my blood. Because when my gaze drops to her lips, she blushes. So, she's not as immune to me as she pretends. Perfect.

If she knows anything about today's bloodbath, I'll get it out of her. One way or another. And looking at her in that torn wedding dress, honeysuckle scent teasing my senses... I know exactly how I want to start my interrogation.

After all, it is our wedding night.

CHAPTER 36—ISABELLA

The day dies inchaos and questions. My wedding dress is stiff with dried blood when Paola walks in.

One of the guards who’s been hovering nearby inhales sharply when he sees her. Vince—I think his name is.

"You're back?" he growls.

Paola stands there with mascara tracking war paint down her cheeks. The sight of her twists something in my gut - this woman who played friend while leading me to Antonio's trap, who touched him like she owned him while making me watch. Who knows exactly how he tastes, how he moves, how his hands feel claiming flesh.

When Vince embraces her, she fractures - body shaking with grief instead of pleasure now. "She lost family today," he tells me, eyes sharp as accusation. "Because blood doesn't matter here. We're all family."

Except I've seen how this family treats each other. Seen it pressed against corridor walls as it lied to me.

And now I'm part of it - whether I want to be or not.

"Lea's gone." Paola's voice breaks like glass.

Vince's curse comes with his fist meeting wall. When he turns to me, his eyes burn with grief turned to rage. "You. This is your fault."

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