Page 29 of Twisted Vows

She growled in frustration but ducked lower, finding cover behind a stone pillar. Matteo moved with deadly efficiency, taking down two attackers in quick succession. Isla took a deep breath, forced her hands steady, and picked her next target. One precise shot, then another. Her confidence grew with every pull of the trigger.

The sound of sirens in the distance signaled reinforcements. The cartel forces, sensing their disadvantage, began to retreat, disappearing into the surrounding landscape. Matteo’s men didn’t chase after them—not yet. This was just the beginning.

Matteo turned to her, his dark eyes searching hers. "You’re not just a pawn," he murmured, voice rough from battle and something else—something deeper. "You never were."

Isla met his gaze, chest rising and falling as she fought for breath. She wasn’t just surviving.

She was fighting.

And she wasn’t going to stop.

As the dust settled and the last echoes of gunfire faded, Isla and Matteo stood at the edge of the battlefield that had been their home only hours before. The villa was damaged—bullet-riddled windows, smoke curling from the ruined vehicles in the driveway—but it still stood. And so did they.

Luca approached, his shirt stained with blood, his expression grim. "They’ll regroup. We need to be ready."

Matteo nodded, jaw tight. "We need to end this before they have the chance."

Luca’s gaze flicked to Isla, assessing. There was something new in his expression—respect. "She fought well."

Matteo looked at her, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a small nod, he turned back to Luca. "Get everyone inside. We strategize now."

Isla exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she followed them into the villa. The fight was far from over. If anything, it had only just begun.

And she was ready for whatever came next.

Chapter Twenty

The war had barely settled when Isla found herself pacing the confines of Matteo’s study, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fury. Blood still stained her hands—both her own and from the battle she had just fought beside Matteo. But the deeper wound was the one she had yet to confront.

The truth had come to her like a whisper carried on the wind. She hadn’t gone looking for it, but it had found her all the same.

After the last shots had faded, after the bodies had been dragged from the villa grounds, Isla had slipped away from the chaos to breathe, to process. She had needed a moment away from Matteo, away from the weight of the war she had unexpectedly become a part of.

That was when she had heard them.

Two of Matteo’s men stood just beyond the main hall, speaking in low voices, unaware of her presence. Isla had ducked behind one of the grand marble pillars, her pulse hammering, something in their hushed tones stopping her in her tracks.

"It’s done," one of them said. "The cartel was never supposed to win that fight. It was just to send a message."

"A message?" the second man scoffed. "Seems excessive."

The first man let out a low chuckle. "It was never about the fight. It was about her. Her father never meant for her to survive this marriage. He sent them after her."

Isla’s stomach twisted violently.

"So the old man wanted his own daughter dead?"

"He wanted her gone, but cleanly. If she had died in the crossfire, it would’ve solved his problem. Matteo marrying her was never about peace. It was about getting rid of her without making it look like he pulled the trigger."

"Matteo agreed to this?" the second man asked, his tone more skeptical now.

The first man hesitated. "He played along. But now? Now I’m not so sure he’s following the plan."

Isla had to press a hand to her mouth to stop the gasp that threatened to escape. The walls of her world, already fragile, crumbled entirely in that moment.

Her father had planned for her to die.

The marriage, the pretense of protection—it had all been a lie. And Matteo… he had known. He had known and said nothing.

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