Page 424 of Rosetti Family New York
I don't wait to find out.
Three more shots echo through the warehouse. Chase Callahan jerks with each impact, his body sliding further down the wet wall. By the time the echoes fade, he's completely still.
The gun slips from my nerveless fingers, clattering to the concrete. Water drips through the broken windows, mixing with the spreading pool around his body. The air smells like cordite and copper and the end of everything.
Nothing. I feel nothing. Empty. Scraped clean.
"Isabella." Rafe's voice seems to come from very far away. "Cut me loose. We need to get out of here."
I stumble toward him on unsteady legs, pulling a utility knife from my jacket pocket. My hands shake as I saw through the zip ties, and when they finally snap, Rafe slumps forward with a grunt of pain.
"You okay?" he asks, which is ridiculous considering he's the one injured.
"I killed him." The words feel strange in my mouth. Factual. Empty. "I killed my uncle."
"You killed your parents' murderer," Rafe corrects, struggling to his feet. "There's a difference."
But I don't feel the difference. I feel hollow. Like someone took everything I used to be and burned it to ash.
Footsteps thunder up the stairs. Matteo's voice echoes through the corridor, sharp with panic. "Isabella!"
I should call out. Should let him know we're safe. Instead, I stare at Chase's body and feel absolutely nothing.
Matteo appears in the doorway, taking in the scene with one quick glance. Red pooling on concrete, bodies, Rafe clutching his wounded shoulder. Me standing in the middle of it all like a statue carved from ice.
"Christ." He moves toward me slowly, hands raised like I'm something dangerous. "Bella, are you hurt?"
I shake my head, still staring at Chase. "Everyone I love ends up bleeding."
"Hey." Matteo's voice is soft, careful. "Look at me."
I drag my eyes away from the corpse to meet his amber gaze. He looks older somehow, like the last few hours have aged him years.
"You saved us," he says. "You ended it."
"Did I?" The question comes out flat, emotionless. "Or did I just become exactly what he always said I was?"
"What are you talking about?"
"He said I was born for this. Born to be dangerous. Born to destroy things." I look down at my hands, still stained with gunpowder residue. "And here I am."
"Isabella." Rafe's voice cuts through my spiral. "Chase Callahan spent fifteen years trying to break you into his perfect weapon. Don't let him win by believing his poison."
But the poison is already there, spreading through my veins like ice. The knowledge that I'm capable of this. That killing came naturally, easily. That some dark part of me enjoyed watching the life leave his eyes.
"I need..." I can't finish the sentence. Need air, need space, need to be somewhere that doesn't smell like death and the end of everything I thought I knew about myself.
I walk past Matteo without looking at him, past the spreading pool of Chase's remains, toward the door. Behind me, I hear Rafe explaining what happened, hear Matteo's sharp intake of breath when he learns the truth about my parents.
But their voices fade as I make my way down the stairs, through the maze of machinery and shadows, toward the loading dock where this all started.
The storm has turned to drizzle, soft and gray and peaceful. Police sirens wail in the distance, getting closer. Soon this place will be crawling with investigators, reporters, people who want to pick apart what happened here and turn it into headlines.
But right now, it's just me and the water and the weight of what I've done.
I sink onto a concrete barrier, letting the drizzle soak through my hair and clothes. The gun is gone, left upstairs beside Chase's body. My hands are empty now, clean of weapons but not of guilt.
"Isabella." Matteo's voice makes me look up. He's standing ten feet away, rain streaming down his face, looking at me like I'm something fragile that might shatter.
