Page 18 of His Angel

I swallow hard. “Remember…you must die.” The words slay me, the idea of Isaia…of him…no. It’s even worse than the guilt I carry for Anthony’s death.

“I’m not afraid of dying, Everly. And they know that.” His voice drops to a gravelly rasp, eyes burning into mine. “What fucking terrifies me is them ripping you from my hands, leaving me alive to choke on the emptiness. And they know that, too.”

My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my ribs, and I can’t speak. I can’t find any words.

As he reaches across the table, taking my hand, lightly squeezing, it’s like the air in my lungs no longer has purpose. All I need to breathe is him. How can I mourn Anthony while still loving Isaia?

“They want to hurt me in the worst possible way, and they know killing me isn’t it. But taking you from me…” He pulls back, rubbing the back of his neck, veins bulging along his arms. “Fuck, baby girl. If my death would settle it, we wouldn’t be here. I’d be in a box. But they’re not after my blood. They’re after yours, to gut me alive.”

Seconds pass as I take it all in. The threat of the Paladino family. The promise of Isaia’s devotion. I have no idea what to do with all of it, my mind struggling to process.

Finally, I manage to say, “They’re looking for us… for me?”

“Yeah. Like fucking bloodhounds. They’re out there, boats sniffing coasts, bribes greasing palms. Their influence stretches far and wide. This island’s the only place they can’t reach.”

Panic chokes me. “My mom… is she?”

“She’s a Rinaldi. They won’t touch her.”

“Why would her surname mean anything if her husband’s dead?”

“The Paladino family had a business relationship with Rinaldi. They won’t hurt her. If anything, they’ll protect her if needed since she’s a widow now.” He shrugs. “But I have eyes on her twenty-four-seven just in case.”

“I need to be with her, Isaia.”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“She’s sick. She needs treatment, and she can’t go through it alone.”

“She’s getting the treatment she needs. I made sure of it.”

My chest squeezes. “She’s going to need me.”

“Not right now, baby. It’s too risky.”

“I don’t care. My mom might die, Isaia. You can’t expect me to just sit here on this island, not knowing if I’ll ever see my mom alive again.”

Growling with frustration, he pulls a palm down his face. “Like I said, I have eyes on her, not just to make sure she’s safe, but also to monitor her condition.” He reaches across the table, placing his hand over mine. “Right now, she’s doing fine. If that changes, if her condition worsens, I swear to you I’ll make sure you get to see her.” He lets go of my hand and leans back. “But right now I need you to trust me.”

“How can I trust a man who drugged me?”

The atmosphere turns cold even though we’re sitting in hundred-degree heat, and his gaze levels me. “I did what I had to do.”

I want to be angry with him. I want to hate him. I want to blame him for everything that’s gone wrong. But I can’t. None of this is entirely his fault. I played my hand in it as well, made wrong decisions out of desperation to keep those I care about from harm. Isn’t that exactly what he’s doing now?

Doing whatever is necessary to keep safe someone he claims to care for? Me.

And no matter from which angle I look at it, I’m the one at the starting point. Everyone who had a hand in the church massacre was simply a reaction to an action I took. I’m the one who fell for Isaia Del Rossa even though I knew what kind of man he was. I’m the one who chose to ignore the warning signs. I’m the one who lied to my best friend. And now he’s dead.

A profound sadness drops over me, chilling me despite the tropical heat. I finish my mojito, then wipe the wetness of the glass stuck to my palm down my dress.

“Don’t overthink it, baby girl.”

I’m staring at my hands in my lap. “I could sit here and blame you for everything, be angry at you for drugging me, for bringing me here, for not allowing me to see my mother while she fights the battle of her life.” I glance up at him. “I could sit here and hate you for killing my best friend, but the truth is, Ichoseto lie. I was weak, fell for Michele’s bullshit, and was too much of a coward to fight back. Michele’s leash, my mom’s life—I tied that knot, Isaia. They’re after us because of something I started.”

He’s on his feet in a flash, gripping my arm and yanking me up, pulling me flush against him. His fingers seize my chin, forcing my eyes to his, dark and blazing.

“You need to listen to me real fucking carefully. You did what you had to, and there’s no one who can blame you for that. That lie? It kept your mother alive. This is our war. Not your fault.”

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