Page 92 of Deception & Desire

“You think I don’t have a plan? I’ve been playing chess with Amos Rubio for months. I know his weaknesses.”

Teo exchanges a glance with Dante, then sighs. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“We go straight for Rubio’s compound,” I say. “The heart of his operation. We catch him off guard, make him bleed, and make it clear that we’re still standing.”

“It’s risky,” Dante says, rubbing his jaw.

“It’s necessary,” I reply. “Gather what we have left. I’ll lead the attack myself.”

“No, you won’t,” Teo says flatly. “You’re not leaving this bed until you’re cleared to stand without toppling over. If you insist on moving forward with this, fine. But Dante and I are running point.”

I want to argue, but I know he’s not backing down. Not here, not now. Hell, my own body is screaming at me to stay down, to heal.

But Isabella isn’t the only one who knows how to lie.

“Fine. But you take my plan at my word,” I say, leaning back with a grim smile. “You’d better burn that mansion to the ground.”

Dante nods, his eyes cold. “It’ll be ashes by sunrise.”

27

MIA

You would have thought by now that I might have become well acquainted with imprisonment. Perhaps, on some masochistic level, my isolated pregnancy had almost prepared me for this.

But I would do it again—nine months of loneliness. I’d do it a hundred times to spare myself three days of agony.

Three days of confinement, fear, and a silence so thick I can barely breathe through it.

When I close my eyes, I try to picture Liza and Luca’s tiny faces, the way their small hands grasped at mine. The thought of them makes my chest ache and my spirits soar. Do they miss me? Will they even remember me if I don’t make it out of here?

And Leon…

Is he dead? Is he dead? Is he dead?

The words echo through me more consistently than my one heartbeat.

“She doesn’t shut up, even in her sleep,” someone sneers.

Another chuckles—a low and ugly sound. “She’ll crack soon enough. They always do.”

My stomach growls a loud and empty protest. I’ve barely eaten since they dragged me here, and I’m not sure I could keep food down even if I had it. I bite down hard on my lip, forcing myself not to react.

Let them think I’m breaking. Let them underestimate me.

My cell is a windowless box barely big enough to stand in. The cot I lie in smells of mildew, but it’s better than the cold floor.

Sleep doesn’t come. I’m constantly haunted by the fractured memories of Leon bleeding on the casino floor and the twins crying out for me. I thrash against the blankets, jolting into a state of half-consciousness as I try to reach for them.

I swallow hard, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. I can’t let myself think like this. Not when the guards outside are looking for any excuse to make my life a misery.

Like every other day, time passes until the moment the cell door opens.

The guards aren’t gentle. They learned the hard way that I’m not some subdued little damsel in distress—the scabbed-over scratch marks on their faces are a testament to that.

My body is a live wire of exhaustion, every muscle trembling as I shuffle down the dim hallway, guards flanking me on either side. Their hands hover near their weapons, just in case.

From what I’ve managed to deduce so far, I’m in some kind of compound. I’ve been stealing glances as we walk down corridors that seem alive with activity.

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