Page 36 of Twisted Vows

She blinked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "We made it."

Matteo exhaled, the tension in his body easing just slightly. "Yeah, we did."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more, but exhaustion pulled her under again. Matteo brushed his fingers along her forehead before turning back to Luca.

"Get the car ready. We take her home."

Luca nodded, stepping out to make the call. Matteo lifted Isla carefully, cradling her against his chest as he carried her out of the safe house and into the waiting car. The drive back to the villa was tense, Matteo’s mind running through the names ofevery man who had hesitated, every loyalty that had suddenly seemed uncertain.

By the time they reached the villa, Luca’s men had secured the traitors in the basement. Matteo carried Isla inside, his jaw tight as he ignored the guards’ curious glances. "No one disturbs this room," he ordered as he laid her onto the bed. "Anyone who tries answers to me."

The doctors worked quickly, stitching up the wound and administering painkillers. One of the doctors turned to Matteo. "She lost a lot of blood, but she’ll recover. She needs rest. No stress."

Matteo nodded, though he knew stress was inevitable. He sat beside her bed, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, memorizing every twitch of her fingers, every flutter of her lashes. He had almost lost her. And he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Outside, Luca was waiting. He gathered the names of the men who had betrayed them, confirming every suspicion Matteo had harbored for weeks. They had planned this from within, waiting for the right moment to turn. Enzo had promised them power, but they had underestimated Matteo’s reach.

"They’re all there," Luca said, his voice low. "Tied up and waiting."

Matteo nodded once. "Then let’s go have a conversation."

Luca’s smirk was grim. "They won’t be talking for long."

Matteo walked through the halls of his villa, his steps deliberate, every move calculated. The men who had betrayed him had made their choice. Now, it was his turn to make his.

He entered the basement, where five of his men knelt, their hands bound behind them, their faces pale with the realization that their fate had already been sealed.

"You had your chance," Matteo said, his voice even, his eyes cold. "Now, you’ll pay the price."

Each man began speaking at once—pleas, excuses, desperate attempts at self-preservation. Matteo didn’t care. He had already made up his mind.

One by one, the men met their end. It was swift, efficient, leaving no room for weakness. When the last body fell, Matteo exhaled slowly, wiping the blood from his hands with practiced indifference. But something nagged at him—something that made him pause before heading back upstairs.

He turned to Luca. "What if Enzo wasn’t acting alone?"

Luca frowned. "We already suspect he worked with Leonardo."

Matteo’s eyes darkened. "Then why didn’t Leonardo make a move before tonight? Why did he wait until Isla was in danger to reveal his hand?"

Luca hesitated. "You think there’s someone else?"

Matteo’s jaw tightened. "I think we’ve only seen part of the game. And if I’m right, we’re not done yet."

He turned back toward the stairs, his focus already shifting. Isla was upstairs, recovering, and soon she would wake up with questions. He needed to be there. Needed her to understand that this wasn’t just about revenge. This was about survival.

The war wasn’t coming.

It had already begun.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The night was thick with an eerie stillness, the kind that whispered of something terribly wrong. The villa, usually humming with the distant murmur of guards and quiet footsteps, felt empty—hollow. As if it had lost something vital, something Matteo felt before he even knew the truth.

He had been in the basement, wrapping up unfinished business with the traitors, when the sharp crackle of his radio cut through the silence. Luca’s voice was clipped, urgent.

"Matteo. We have a problem."

A chill crawled down his spine. Luca never sounded shaken. Never.

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