Page 37 of Twisted Vows

Matteo didn’t hesitate. He strode through the halls with a predator’s speed, his mind already churning through worst-case scenarios. The further he moved through the villa, the more his instincts screamed that he was already too late.

Then he saw it.

The door to Isla’s room was ajar, a silent omen of the storm waiting inside.

The first guard lay just inside the threshold, a clean bullet hole through his skull, his gun still holstered—a professional hit. The second was slumped against the far wall, his throat sliced so deeply that his body had barely twitched before death claimed him. Blood painted the floor, thick and wet, the scent of iron heavy in the air.

But Isla—

She was gone.

Matteo stood motionless for a beat, his hands curling into fists, his breath slow, measured, even as rage boiled under his skin. The tangled sheets on the bed told him she had been here,resting, unaware of the danger slipping through the cracks. They had taken her fast. Silent. Efficient.

A calculated move.

"Luca," Matteo growled, his voice lethal.

Luca was already moving, barking orders into his radio as he entered the room. "Security feed is coming up now. Whoever did this, they knew exactly where to go. No struggle. No wasted movement."

Matteo’s jaw clenched. "Where’s the footage?"

Luca pressed a tablet into his hand. The screen flickered before playing back the grainy security footage. Matteo’s eyes locked onto the figures moving through the villa’s blind spots, avoiding detection with the kind of precision that only came from inside knowledge.

Then, his breath turned to ice.

Leonardo Marino stepped into frame.

Isla’s father.

The bastard had walked through Matteo’s home like he owned it, like he had every right to take back what he had given away. Isla was unconscious, draped over the shoulder of one of his men, completely vulnerable. She hadn’t fought. Hadn’t even had the chance to.

Matteo’s grip tightened around the device, his knuckles going white. His world narrowed to a single, undeniable truth.

"He took her," Matteo murmured, his voice dangerously quiet. "That son of a bitch took her while we were busy cleaning up this mess."

Luca’s face darkened. "He’s making his move."

Matteo exhaled, his fury barely restrained. Isla’s father had played the long game, had waited until Matteo was distracted, weakened from dealing with Enzo’s betrayal. He had taken her right from under his nose, inside his own walls.

A soldier appeared in the doorway, panting from running through the villa. "Boss, we found the south gate compromised. They had inside help."

Matteo didn’t so much as blink. "How long ago?"

"Less than twenty minutes. We’re tracking their exit route now."

Luca was already pulling up another screen, scanning GPS pings. "They’re heading west, toward the outskirts. Likely to one of his old warehouses."

Matteo was already moving. "Get the cars ready. We move now."

Luca hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Matteo—"

Matteo rounded on him, his eyes blazing. "Now, Luca!" His voice cracked like a whip, reverberating through the tense air. "We’re not losing her."

Luca didn't argue. He turned on his heel, barking orders into his radio as the house erupted into motion. The guards mobilized, loading into black SUVs with weapons locked and ready. Engines roared to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as the convoy prepared to roll out.

Matteo strode toward the lead car, his fingers curling around the grip of his gun. His pulse hammered like a war drum, his breath steady, calculated. The last time he had felt this level of fury was when he had claimed his first kill, back when he was just a boy learning the rules of this world. But this wasn’t just rage. This was something deeper, something darker. This was personal.

As he slid into the driver’s seat, Luca jumped into the passenger side, his phone still pressed to his ear. "We’ve got a confirmed route," Luca said quickly. "They’re heading toward an old Marino warehouse near the docks. If we move fast, we can cut them off before they reach the shipyard."

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