Page 71 of Hunter

“Oh, about thirty years ago. But old feuds run deep.”

“How the hell did I not know that…” My voice trails off when I realize the gravity of what I have mixed my own family up in. Two traditional mafia families at war, and I accept the proposal of the enemy of my best client.

“We’ve been caught in the crossfire,” Damon says simply. “You accepting Domenico’s proposal over Rodion’s was the catalyst.”

Connor hits a button on the remote sitting in front of him. The television on the wall switches on, and an empty room with nothing but a single chair comes into view. Kasia sits with her head bowed and hands on her thighs. She doesn’t move. The only indication she’s alive is her body gently expanding and contracting with each breath.

“And how do we think she fits into this mess?” I ask.

“For Rodion to have someone on the inside,” Harrison suggests.

“But why target Isabella? We weren’t even together when…”

Then the penny drops; it all comes into sharp focus in one beat. About a year before the divorce papers hit my desk, I heard rumblings that Isabella had made inquiries about obtaining one. I know she visited a few lawyers that weren’t mine. Lawyers talk, especially when well-off clients are involved.

Rodion will no doubt have plenty of the London elite in his pocket. He would know that a potential divorce could push Isabella and myself back together. And being a similar man to me, he would know even though estranged, I wouldn’t give my wife up without a fight. In all honesty, I never expected her to go through with it. I thought she was content being looked after and living her life undisturbed. I was wrong.

“What is it?” Harrison prompts, my mind whirling as it all comes together.

“Fucking coincidence,” I say. “We need to make her talk.” I gesture to Kasia on the screen, still frozen in position.

“She’s mute,” Damon mutters.

“She’s scared,” Harrison counters. “But not of us, of them.”

“She’s waiting,” I say before I’ve even formed the words in my head. All eyes turn to me. “Not for a deal. But to speak to someone she trusts.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Russell blurts out. “We can make her talk.”

One look at the woman on screen tells me, she would die rather than talk. She has a lot more to lose than she is letting on. There is something much deeper here than cargo ships and political games. Whatever is happening to Kasia is personal, and she’s terrified.

“We need to give her someone to talk to that she can trust.”

“She’s a fucking Russian mole, Hunter,” Russell spits. “There is no trusting that.”

“No,” I snap back. “My instincts tell me she is a terrified woman. She’s trying to protect something, someone. But I do know she won’t talk to us.”

“Who then?” Damon prompts.

“Isabella.”

***

The monitor flickers as the door opens and Isabella steps into the room where Kasia is being kept. She carries her own chair, walking slowly over to the other woman and placing her seat directly in front of her. She sits down with the grace only a lady could have. She’s dressed simply in leggings that cling like a second skin, drowning in one of my over-sized hoodies. Not a hint of authority or title. No blades. Just my wife being herself.

Kasia doesn’t move. Her eyes flick up from the floor, and her breathing changes slightly. She notices her, mutely acknowledging her presence without fervor.

Isabella doesn’t speak right away. She just sits, her focus on the other woman, then reaches out and places a hand over hers. The silence stretches as they sit together in quiet solace. And we all hold our breath watching on.

When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle. No accusation or hatred in her tone.

“Kasia, I know you didn’t come here to betray me.” No response. Isabella’s fingers flex on the other woman’s hand. “You’ve been at my side for months. You’ve been my friend, even when you were passing information to the other side.” Her words are truthful. No judgment, only understanding.

Kasia tenses. She looks up, her face filled with pain and fear.

“I know about the threats,” Isabella says, stunning us all.

“What threats?” Connors hisses, and I shrug. My wife has gone rogue.

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