Page 81 of The Devil's Thorn
Because it’strue.
I saw it in her eyes. When that blade sliced her arm, when she fought off a man double her size—there wasn’t fear in her expression.
There was calculation.Memory.
Nikolai exhales, stepping around the bar and dragging one of the bar chairs back with the edge of his boot. He drops into it, elbows on the counter, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s still trying to make sense of what just happened.
I don’t say anything. Because I’m still trying to decide whether what we did tonight was the beginning of control— or the start of something else entirely.
Nikolai sits at the bar like the seat itself offended him, shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed, brooding harder than usual. The ice from his drink melts slowly, forgotten.
I don’t speak for a moment. I just let the silence linger between us, because I know his mind is still wrapped around what she did—how she moved, how she didn’t break.
Neither of us has ever seen a woman like her.
And now she’s mine to use.
Not in the way the world expects. Not with chains.
Withpurpose.Strategy.
Because if Isabella is going to work in the shadows, then it’s time I drag her deeper into them.
“There’s a gathering at Calderone’s estate,” I say finally, my voice calm, quiet. “Two nights from now.”
Nikolai’s gaze flicks to me.
“The Italian-hosted one?”
I nod once.
“You’re actually going?”
“I always go.”
“You usually leave before the second round of drinks.”
“Depends who’s pouring.”
He huffs something close to a laugh, but it dies fast.
“What’s that got to do with her?”
I pick up the folder again—the useless one he brought in earlier. Thin. Light. Empty.
“We’ve been watching Romano for months now. He’s an opportunist. Arrogant. Loud. Too eager to impress.”
“Which one?”
“Alessio.”
Nikolai raises a brow. “The dog that tried to blackmail Sergei’s niece?”
“Exactly the one.”
I tap a finger against the wood.
“Word is he’s been trying to gain favor with someone on the inside. I want to know who.”
