Page 24 of Twisted Vows

Everything had changed.

The last vestiges of hope she had clung to—the belief that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about Matteo, about this world—had been crushed beneath the weight of reality.

She was a pawn. A bargaining chip.

She had spent weeks fighting against her circumstances, but now, the war had shifted.

Now, it was personal.

Isla moved toward the dresser, pulling out the phone Nico had hidden for her to find. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A reminder that she still had a choice. That she could still fight.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the phone silent in her palm, her mind racing.

She had been foolish to think last night had changed anything.

Matteo DeLuca and her father had betrayed her.

And now, she would make them pay.

Chapter Seventeen

The betrayal was a noose tightening around Isla’s throat. The moment she had made her decision, her hands were already shoving clothes into a small bag, her mind working at a dizzying pace. She couldn’t stay here. She wouldn’t.

Every second in this house had been a lie. Matteo had lied. Her father had lied. And she had been nothing more than a pawn, bound to a marriage that was never meant to protect her.

The last time she had tried to escape, she had been reckless—running blindly, not thinking beyond the moment she crossed the villa’s borders. She had relied on stolen minutes, hoping for luck instead of ensuring a plan. And Matteo had caught her. Easily. She had underestimated how closely he watched her, how deep his control ran.

Not this time.

This time, she wouldn’t take the obvious routes. She wouldn’t leave through the south gate where she knew his guards were stationed. She wouldn’t run with nothing but the clothes on her back. This time, she would disappear.

She reached for the phone, hesitating for only a second before typing a message:I need out. Meet me. Midnight.She attached her location—Matteo’s villa—and sent it before she could overthink the risk. A calculated move, one she could only hope Matteo wouldn’t discover before she was gone.

Her fingers trembled as she zipped the bag closed. The only sound in the room was the rapid beat of her pulse. She knew she didn’t have much time. Matteo was sharp, always watching, always one step ahead—but this time, she had to be faster.

The villa was heavily guarded, but she had studied the patterns of the men who patrolled the grounds. She hadmemorized their rotations, noted the blind spots. She had waited for a reason to leave, and now, she had one.

Slipping into the shadows, she moved through the corridors, her heart pounding. Every step was a risk, every breath a gamble. But when she finally reached the back gate, a rush of adrenaline surged through her veins. She was almost free.

Then, the alarms blared.

Her stomach dropped.

She bolted, the night air biting against her skin as she ran. Lights flashed, voices shouted, but she pushed forward, her feet barely touching the ground. If she could make it to the road, to the waiting car she had arranged through an old contact, she could disappear before Matteo even knew she was gone.

But she never made it that far.

The moment she reached the road, hands seized her. Strong, unyielding.

She gasped, struggling, but the grip was like iron. Two of Matteo’s men held her in place, their hands clamped around her arms like a vice. She twisted, fought, but their hold was unyielding. The roar of an approaching engine sent a chill through her bones. The sleek black car screeched to a halt just feet away, the headlights casting sharp shadows over the road.

The moment the door swung open, she knew.

Matteo stepped out with a slow, deliberate grace, his expression carved from stone. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with meticulous precision, his movements unhurried, unaffected. Every step he took toward her was measured, calculated, his gaze locking onto hers with an iciness that sent a chill down her spine. He exuded control—an iron grip over himself, over the situation, over her.

Without a word, he nodded, and the men released her. She barely had time to react before Matteo seized her himself, spinning her around with ease and pressing her against the car.The cold metal bit into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating presence of the man holding her captive. His grip was firm, unforgiving, but not a hair out of place, his breathing even, as if this was just another transaction, another demonstration of dominance.

The only betrayal of his composure was his fingers—digging into her wrists just a little too hard.

---