Chapter 160
ISABELLA
No one breathed. No one dared.
And for the first time that night, I understood the truth I had only ever felt in whispers, in glances, in the way people looked at him when he walked into a room—Levi Ferrari wasn’t just feared. He was almost untouchable.
My fingers trembled as they pressed to my lips, trying to muffle the desperate prayer spilling from me. Don’t kill him, Levi. Please, don’t kill him. But the sound of Levi’s fists—bone shattering against bone, the sickening crack echoing through the marble hall—made that prayer useless.
Every strike rang through the air.
The commotion had finally drawn Antonio from wherever he had disappeared earlier. Relief punched through me at the sight of him. If anyone could drag Levi back from the edge, it was his father. And yet… a darker part of me didn’t want him to.
Antonio shoved his way through the circle of horrified onlookers, his polished shoes slipping on the glossy floor. “Enough, Levi!” he thundered, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.
He seized Levi’s arm mid-swing, muscles straining against the raw violence radiating off him. “You’ll kill him!”
Levi’s chest heaved, each breath sharp and ragged, his body coiled tight like a predator’s. He shook Antonio off with one violent motion, his jaw locked, his eyes burning.
“The bastard tried to force himself on her.” The words dripped venom, guttural, dangerous. His voice didn’t rise—it didn’t have to. Rage lived in every syllable. “He’s a fucking pervert who doesn’t deserve to live.”
The words slammed into me, hot iron in my veins.
I should have recoiled. I should have been horrified by the blood dripping from his knuckles, the brutality in his voice. But beneath the terror of what Julian had done—and the terror of what Levi was doing now—something darker unfurled inside me.
Levi wasn’t just punishing Julian. He was making a declaration. He was carving his claim into the marble, the chandeliers, the golden walls. He was burning it into the minds of every man and woman in that glittering hall.
I was his.
The thought pulsed through me like heat, like sin.
And God help me—I loved it. I loved the sound of his fury, the weight of his possessiveness. I loved the taste of it in the air, metallic with blood, thick with power. My skin burned with it, every nerve alive, my body thrumming like it belonged to him even more than it belonged to me.
My breath hitched, sharp and aching. A wicked thought clawed through me—if he touched me now, if he pulled me to him right here, I’d take him. I’d give myself to that violence, to that hunger. I’d let him use me the way he was destroying Julian. Brutal. Merciless. Consuming.
I wanted to whisper master. I wanted to kneel, to surrender, to show everyone watching exactly who I belonged to.
My thighs clenched. I swallowed hard, tasting how raw, how humiliatingly real my desire had become.
The crowd murmured, horrified and fascinated, envy glinting in the eyes of women who wished they could be claimed that way. Champagne flutes dangled forgotten, phones hovered, recording for the hungry press.
Then—sirens.
The wail tore through the night, bleeding in through the glass doors and crystal chandeliers. My heart seized. Police.
Blue light strobed across sequined gowns and polished tuxedos. The ballroom doors slammed open, and two officers rushed in, cutting through the crowd. The weight of their presence shattered the silence, voices rising, panic breaking loose.
“Step back!” one officer barked, hand twitching toward his holster. “Everybody, back up now!”
But Levi didn’t move.
He stood over Julian like a tiger over its kill, his chest rising in savage rhythm, his hands dripping red onto the marble. His eyes—Christ, his eyes—never left Julian’s ruined body. He didn’t look afraid. He didn’t even look finished.
He looked hungry for more.
Antonio stepped in fast, throwing his arms out toward the officers. “He’s done. He’s done!” His voice was steady, but I caught the flicker of unease in his eyes. “Everyone stand down.”
I scanned the hall, my vision blurring with tears until it landed on Julio, our host, whispering frantically to a female officer near the door. Relief spiked through me. Whoever had called the police—God bless them. Because if no one had come, Levi wouldn’t have stopped. He would’ve gone too far.
And then he would’ve been dragged down with Julian.
By the time the officers edged closer, Julian was barely conscious. His face was unrecognizable, swollen and bloodied, his breath rattling like glass about to break.
Levi stood tall, his hands raw and slick with blood, his body shaking not with weakness but with the storm still raging inside him. His fury hadn’t left—it simmered beneath his skin, ready to ignite again.
One officer hissed, voice sharp with disbelief. “Christ. Call an ambulance!” He turned on Julio, snapping, “You didn’t tell us it was this bad!”
Still, they hesitated. Even armed, even trained, they didn’t rush Levi. They feared him.
Because Levi Ferrari, in that moment, wasn’t a man to be arrested. He wasn’t even human.
He was a force.
And every soul in that glittering hall knew it.
And now I really looked at Julio—Julian looked like he’d been dragged halfway to hell. And Levi? Levi looked like he’d take pleasure in sending him the rest of the way.
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