Page 49 of Isaia

“I don’t know, man!” he cries, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “We’re just supposed to get her there. That’s it, I swear on my life.”

His life. What a fucking joke.

I lean in, looking him straight in the eye, unable to control this almost blinding fucking rage. “You were going to take her from me.”

“I—I was just following orders?—”

The blade slices cleanly across his throat before he can finish the sentence. His eyes widen in shock as he gurgles, blood pouring from the wound. I release him, letting his body crumple to the ground, lifeless and limp. The stillness returns, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city.

I wipe the blade on his jacket, the crimson smearing against the fabric as I stand over his body. The rage still burns hot, but there’s a grim satisfaction in knowing Rinaldi just lost another pawn in his fucked-up game.

Rage still boils as I pull out my phone, dialing Maximo again.

“What now?” he answers.

I glance at the body at my feet. “I’m sending you a location. Get a clean-up crew here asap.”

“Jesus, Isaia. What did you?—”

I hang up and slip the phone back into my jacket, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as I pull out a cigarette with blood-slick fingers.

The lighter flares, casting a brief, fiery glow over the streaks of red on my hand. I light up, taking a slow drag, the burn of smoke mixing with the rush in my veins.

I’ve lost count of the men I’ve killed, their faces blurred into a sea of forgotten bodies. But this one…this one feels different. Almost fucking biblical, like it’s written somewhere that I was meant to kill for her. Born to own her. Make her mine in blood and fire.

I make my way back to the street, each drag of the cigarette sinking deep into my chest, smoke curling around the primal satisfaction in my gut.

The blood on my hands is drying, tacky against my skin, but I barely notice. It’s just a reminder—a fucking badge of what I’ll do to keep her. She has no idea how close she came to being ripped from her world tonight. How easily she could’ve been stolen from me.

I settle back against the oak tree, her house bathed in darkness, her safety an illusion she doesn’t realize I’ve given her.

If the devil wants to take her from me, he better come prepared to meet God.

Chapter 15

ISAIA

Maximo hands me a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the dim light of the room, glinting like liquid fire.

I wrap my fingers around the glass, but I don’t sit. I can’t. My muscles are wound too tight, a live wire thrumming beneath my skin. The storm inside me refuses to settle, each passing second only feeding the tension coiling in my gut.

While I’m outside her house, I feel at ease. When I have her in my sight, I’m in control. But the second she’s too far away from me, everything feels wrong. My bones, my blood, my fucking head.

If I weren’t there last night, that motherfucker would have taken her, and she would have been gone. And that would have meant me turning the entire goddamn world around to find her.

“Relax, man,” Maximo says. “I have our guys watching her.”

I pace the room, the sound of my boots muffled against the thick carpet, but it doesn’t dull the restless energy coursing through me.

Each step feels like a countdown to something I can’t see, something just out of reach. The walls feel closer than they should, the air too still, too heavy. Even the bourbon in my hand doesn’t offer its usual comfort—it’s just another weight I barely register as I move back and forth, my mind running in circles.

“We’re missing something,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “Why the fuck would Rinaldi want to kidnap his own stepdaughter?”

Maximo leans back in his chair, his expression grim. “I’ve got my guys digging, but everyone’s tight-lipped. Either they’re too scared to talk, or Rinaldi’s paying them real well to keep their mouths shut.”

I take a swallow from the glass, the bourbon stinging my throat as it slides down, a vicious ball of fire that does little to ease my tightening chest. “And her mom? What the fuck is that? Tricking her own daughter.”

“I dunno, man,” Maximo says, running a hand through his hair. “But we need to find out what the hell is going on, and we need to do it fast. Alexius is one problem away from losing his shit.”

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