Page 47 of Isaia

I drag on my cigarette, the burn doing little to temper the storm raging beneath my skin. She’s in there, moving around like she doesn’t have a clue what she’s done. Like she didn’t just become my fucking obsession, my goddamn undoing.

She’s not ready for what I want to do to her. Not yet. But she will be. She’ll be begging for it, for me, for every dark promise I’ve whispered to consume her completely. And when that moment comes, when she’s trembling, pleading, and broken open in every way that matters, she’ll finally understand what it means to belong to me.

My fingers tighten around the cigarette, the ember flaring as I inhale, trying to calm the storm inside me. It doesn’t work. Nothing ever does when it comes to her.

Her light flickers off, plunging the house into darkness. My chest tightens, the sudden loss of her silhouette sparking a possessive tension in my gut. She thinks she’s safe behind those walls but has no idea how fragile that illusion is.

I dial Maximo’s number, and he answers on the first ring. “Where the fuck are you?”

“And you call yourself head of security.”

“I swear, I’m gonna AirTag your ass,” he grumbles.

“Our intel was solid. Rinaldi’s in town.”

Maximo curses under his breath. “I’ll get more eyes and ears on the bastard.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Listen, I followed Everly tonight.”

“Let me guess. She met up with him?”

“Not exactly. She was having dinner with her mother. The fucker decided to show up uninvited.”

“So, she’s working with him?”

“No. She says she’s not, and I believe her.”

A beat of silence, then, “Oh, my God, you fucked her, didn’t you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I didn’t fuck her.” But I really, really fucking want to. “While I was outside the restaurant, watching her, a black SUV pulled up.”

“A car in front of a restaurant? That’s not exactly screaming suspicious.”

“At first, I thought the same.” I take a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that disappears into the night. “But it wasn’t just parked. Engine running, tinted windows locked tight. The real giveaway? It didn’t leave. Even after she walked in. It was waiting for something—or someone.”

Maximo exhales sharply. “You think they were packing?”

“I know they were. Driver’s window rolled down just a crack, enough for a hand to adjust the side mirror. I got a glimpse of him. Broad shoulders, dark suit, and a piece holstered under his arm.” My voice tightens. “Passenger wasn’t any friendlier. He kept glancing at the restaurant door like he was counting down.”

“Textbook abduction operation,” Maximo mutters. “They were waiting to scoop her up.”

“Exactly.” Rage simmers. “The second her heels hit the sidewalk, the passenger door cracked open. They were ready to move.”

“Jesus.”

“They didn’t see me.” I drop the cigarette and stomp it. “I got to her first. Pulled her out before they could make a move.”

Maximo’s tone darkens. “Why would he want to kidnap his own stepdaughter?”

“Not sure. But one thing’s clear—there’s bad blood between them. She hates him.”

“Why?”

I glance at her house, her bedroom light flicking off. “That’s what we need to find out.”

“I’m on it.” He hangs up, and I let out a heavy breath.

First, Rinaldi shows up at dinner—an ambush, as Everly called it—using her mother as bait to reel her in. Then, the snatch-and-grab setup. He’s playing games, and I’m not fucking amused. He wants something with her. And I know she knows exactly what it is, but she’s not talking. Not yet.

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