Page 43 of Twisted Vows

Relief crashed over her like a wave.

But then she saw the man standing in front of him, his body slumped, blood pooling beneath him.

She knew that face.

Shock paralyzed her as she realized who Matteo had just killed.

It was Nico.

Her breath hitched, disbelief slamming into her chest like a freight train. Nico—the man who had been like a brother to her, who had taught her how to shoot when she was young, who had once promised to protect her no matter what—lay lifeless on the ground, a bullet hole clean through his temple. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the dirt, dark and final.

"No," she whispered, stumbling to her feet, her entire body trembling. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Nico had been loyal. Nico had always been there for her. He would have never betrayed her. Would he?

Matteo turned, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something cold, something resolved. "Isla—"

She took a step back, shaking her head. "Why?" Her voice cracked, disbelief strangling her words. "He wasn’t your enemy."

Matteo didn’t lower his gun. "He made his choice."

Tears stung her eyes. "And what was that? Protecting me? Because that’s what he did, Matteo. He protected me before you even knew my name. And now he’s dead."

"He was the traitor," Matteo said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. His dark gaze locked onto hers, unyielding. "Did you ever wonder how your father always knew everything about you? Who do you think he sent to broker the deal that was meant to end your life? Why do you think he was at the wedding, Isla?"He let the silence stretch, the weight of his words settling over her like a noose. Then, with quiet finality, he delivered the final blow. "That’s not all. He was the one who took you from your bed—carried you out of my house. All on your father’s orders."

Isla shook her head, refusing to believe it. "No. You’re wrong."

Matteo took a step forward, but she stumbled back. Her pulse roared in her ears, her breath coming too fast, too shallow.

"Isla—"

She turned and ran.

Not toward him. Away from him.

Because in that moment, everything her father had said, every warning, every doubt, came crashing back.

Matteo didn’t love. Matteo owned.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be his anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The night air was thick with the scent of rain, the ground damp beneath Isla’s feet as she ran. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart a relentless hammer against her ribs. She had no plan, no destination—only the overwhelming need to get away.

From Matteo. From the blood on his hands. From the unbearable truth.

Nico was dead.

She forced herself to move faster, ignoring the sting in her legs, the ache in her muscles. The woods surrounding the villa were dense, but she didn’t care. She would disappear if she had to. She would find a way.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

A shadow moved behind her, the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in. Isla barely had time to react before a strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against a solid chest.

She fought. Hard.

Her nails clawed at his skin, her kicks wild and desperate, but Matteo didn’t release her. Instead, he spun her around, gripping her wrists, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Stop," he ordered, his voice rough, strained.

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