Page 197 of The Devil's Thorn
“Isabella,” Nikolai cut in, his tone even, precise. “You said you overheard something last night. Something about Viktor.”
I nodded once, keeping my posture straight, trying to ignore the way Rafael’s presence beside me burned like fire on my skin. “There were two men,” I started, keeping my voice calm. “One of them was clearly nervous, panicking. The other was trying to calm him down. They were behind a row of trees near the beach, thinking no one could hear them.”
Yuri leaned forward, his drink forgotten. Rafael didn’t move. Kellan and Ash didn’t blink.
“They mentioned Damyen,” I said. “And how he was working with Viktor later. That the ambush on the docks was orchestrated by them. The Cartel… wasn’t actually involved. That was just the cover.”
Silence.
“They mentioned the Italian mafia,” I continued. “The real players behind the ambush. Which means whoever’s helping Viktor isn’t just playing with us. They’re trying to drag the Italians into this war.”
Nikolai cursed under his breath, low and sharp in Russian.
Rafael’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Are you sure?”
I turned to look at him. “I don’t say shit unless I am.”
His eyes locked with mine. Cold. Burning. Calculating. And something else I couldn’t name. “You said they were meeting with Damyen?”
I nodded. “Last night. But I went, as you already know. I picked the lock on the back door. I listened. It was them. They confirmed it.”
Ash finally spoke, voice like a blade. “And what if it was a setup?”
I turned to him. “Then I wouldn’t be here.”
Kellan leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And you think this changes everything? You think bringing us half-conversations and whispered names is enough to trust that you didn’t just land yourself in the middle of something you shouldn’t have touched?”
I didn’t flinch. “Iwasalready in the middle. You just didn’t notice.”
Yuri exhaled a low laugh. “She’s got a point.”
Kellan looked at Rafael. “And you’re okay with this?”
Rafael didn’t take his eyes off me. “No. But I don’t need to be.”
That hit harder than I thought it would.
I looked down, briefly, fingers brushing over my wrist. Faint bruises. Still raw. Still real.
“Whoever is helping Viktor,” I said, quieter now, “isn’t just trying to take you down. They’re trying to bring war between the Bratva and the Italians. You want to pretend I’m still just some outsider, fine. But I heard what I heard. Do what you want with it.”
Silence. It hung thick over the table.
Then Yuri leaned back, finishing his drink in one long sip. “Well,” he said. “Looks like Cartagena just got interesting again.”
The table stayed silent for a moment after Yuri’s comment. I felt the weight of it. The shifting lines in the sand. Alliances forming and cracking beneath the surface, unspoken but understood.
Rafael didn’t say anything, but I could feel the thoughts behind his eyes, sharp and lethal.
Kellan looked like he wanted to speak again, but Nikolai beat him to it. “There’s a gathering,” Nikolai said, his voice measured, cutting through the thick air like steel. “Seven days from now. In Naples. The Italians are calling it areconciliation banquet.”
My eyes snapped to him. He gave a humorless smile. “Which, translated, means they want to look you in the eye before they decide whether or not to gut you.”
Rafael finally moved—one long exhale through his nose, eyes still fixed ahead.
“What do you think?” Ash asked.
Nikolai shrugged. “I think it’s bait. But it’s bait we can’t afford to ignore. Not after the stunt Viktor pulled. They’ll want to know if we were behind it. If Rafael’s name was on that ambush.”
