Page 209 of The Devil's Thorn
“I don’t like this,” Kellan muttered, cutting the silence.
I looked at him. “What part? The jet? The mafia? Or the fact that we have to breathe the same air as Rafael for the next few hours?”
He didn’t smile. “I don’t like not knowing what’s waiting for us when we land.”
“You never do,” I said quietly.
Ash turned around halfway in his seat for a second. “You could still back out, Isa. Say the word, and we’ll turn the car around. I’ll even lie to Romanov for you.”
I laughed, but it came out dry. “You think he’d believe you over me?”
They both went quiet. That said enough.
I sighed, eyes drifting to the front windshield again. The road was smoother here, wider. I sat up straighter, pulse ticking up. And then I saw it. The jet.
It looked like a knife in the distance, sleek and silver and still, the sunlight glinting off the nose like a warning. But that wasn’t what made my stomach twist.
It was him. Rafael.
Standing beside the stairs to the jet, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, sunglasses covering the eyes I knew were watching. Nikolai and Yuri flanked him like shadows. I didn’t need to see their faces to know the exact curve of Nikolai’s smirk or the lazy amusement on Yuri’s lips.
The car slowed as we approached, and I felt it again—that cold, unfamiliar ripple up my spine. Something was shifting. Something inevitable.
I didn’t know what waited for me in Naples. But Rafael Romanov was the only certainty I had left.
Thecity wasalive beneath me.
Naples glittered like it had secrets buried under every rooftop, every cobblestone street pulsing with a kind of dangerous charm I couldn’t quite look away from. The wind rolled in off the coast, cool and fragrant, lifting the hem of my shirt and sweeping across my skin like a whisper I couldn’t understand.
I leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, arms crossed, the pendant Anna gave me clenched between my fingers.
I didn’t know why I brought it out here. Maybe because the moment felt still enough to matter. Maybe because I didn’t want to admit that something about this place was already pressing too close. Like the city itself knew who I was before I did.
The pendant shifted in my grip, cool and solid. I traced my thumb over the grooves. I never asked Anna where it came from.I should’ve. But the way she handed it to me… it felt like one of those things you weren’t supposed to question.
Just take it, tesoro. It’s always protected those who belong to it.
Belong. The word had settled in my chest like a bruise that hadn’t surfaced yet.
I looked down at the streets, the cars, the lights, the elegance soaked in centuries of blood and legacy. I had no idea where I belonged. But something told me this place had answers, whether I wanted them or not.
The top floor of the hotel was quiet behind me. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant the others were giving me space. Or watching me from the shadows and pretending they weren’t. Kellan and Ash had taken one of the suites further down the hall. Yuri and Nikolai had gone somewhere I didn’t care to ask about. And Rafael— I exhaled sharply, tightening my grip on the charm.
He hadn’t said much after we landed. Just a glance, a nod, the subtle brush of his hand at the small of my back when we exited the car. Like a warning. Like a claim.
He hadn’t touched me since. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed.
Tomorrow was the gathering. Another arena I didn’t belong in. Another stage where I was nothing more than a pawn dressed up in a black dress and a carefully crafted expression. I was walking into a den of wolves, and the worst part? I wasn’t sure if I was a threat or a sacrifice.
A flicker of movement behind me made me tense—barely there, but I felt it before I heard anything. The brush of presence. That quiet gravity I could recognize even in my sleep.
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to.
The scent of him hit first—dark spice and smoke, like the city itself wrapped in sin and steel.
Rafael.
I stared out at Naples, pretending I didn’t feel my pulse trip in my throat. And then, slowly, I heard it—his footsteps. Controlled. Heavy. A phantom brushing closer, dragging shadows with him like a cloak.
