Chapter 172
ISABELLA
“Enough,” I snapped, my pulse spiking, fear and fury twisting together in my chest. “I have nothing to tell you—” I choked on the words, my throat tightening. “We weren’t supposed to fall in love, right? So I’m not to blame if you fell for me.”
“And why would I fall for you?” His voice dropped low, dark, almost a growl that pressed against my skin. “Of all the women in the world—the ones who are truly on my level—what makes you think I would ever choose you?”
I froze, mouth open, chest constricting like a vise. Heartbreaking and raw, his words ripped through me before I had even faced the truth myself. I wanted him to hate me, to shut this down—but I never expected him to say it with such cruel clarity. The words landed like blows, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the sharp sting of his honesty. Then, as quickly as it came, he recoiled, a flicker of regret crossing his face.
I turned away, my throat burning, my heart a thudding drum in my chest.
“Fuck you,” I hissed, gripping my bag like a lifeline and moving toward the door. My hands shook. My breaths came ragged and shallow. I swung the door open and ran, slamming it behind me with a force that made the walls vibrate.
Levi’s footsteps thundered after me. “What is wrong with you? We were fine, and then you—” His voice faltered, edge softened with something like pain. “I’m sorry. Talk to me. Let me in.”
I didn’t answer. I pushed through the outside door, storming into the street. Cold air bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. My heart raced so violently it felt like it would tear me apart from the inside.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I whispered, pressing my hands to my face, trying to choke down the whirlwind of panic spinning inside me. My breaths came in jagged bursts, my chest tight as if my ribs were closing in.
I paused, heart hammering, my body frozen on the sidewalk. Something inside me screamed to turn back, to face him, to confront whatever it was I couldn’t yet name. My legs trembled, ready to obey—but then my phone buzzed sharply in my bag, cutting through the chaos.
I pulled it out, my fingers shaking, and the message burned across the screen:
I’m waiting.
I didn’t hear the horn. I’d just stepped out of the taxi, my mind drifting somewhere else, my thoughts too loud to notice anything around me. I was walking toward my house, absentminded, keys in hand, the night cool against my skin.
I didn’t see the car. Not until it was practically on top of me.
My heart froze. The black SUV loomed a single meter away, its engine a low, predatory growl. My bag slipped from my fingers, hitting the asphalt with a sharp thud that echoed too loud in the empty street. I bent instinctively to pick it up—
And then—
Before I could lift my head, a hand shot out of the darkness. Strong. Unyielding. It clamped over my mouth.
I gasped, eyes wide, panic detonating in my chest. I was yanked off my feet, slammed against the cold, tinted side of the SUV. The metal vibrated against my spine, merciless and hard. I twisted, kicked, clawed at the air, but the grip only tightened, crushing my breath.
The door flung open. Darkness swallowed me whole.
Inside, the SUV was dim and suffocating, smelling of leather and something metallic. My lungs burned as I tried to scream but nothing came out—just a rasp of desperation.
The hand finally released me. The panic didn’t.
I spun, searching for a face, a clue—anything—and froze.
It was a dead man.
Franco.
My heart stuttered so violently I thought it might stop. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out the hum of the engine. Franco was alive. He’d risen from the dead.
“Christ—you’re dead,” I whispered, my voice trembling, so thin I barely recognized it as my own.
Franco tilted his head, his expression cold, detached—his voice low and smooth, almost mocking. “As you can see,” he murmured, “I’m alive.”
My stomach dropped into ice.
“Does he know where you are?” The voice came from the front seat, stern and sharp, like a blade drawn across stone.
I turned, my eyes flicking toward the shadows up front— And then I saw him.
Mr. Antonio.
My chest constricted. The air turned heavy, thick with dread.
“No,” I whispered, still stunned, still unsure if this was real or some nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
“Would he be looking for you?” Antonio’s voice was low, deliberate, each word meant to pin me down.
“With what I told him?” I swallowed hard. “I doubt it.”
“Good,” he said. His tone hardened. “Now listen carefully.”
The SUV rumbled beneath us, the sound like a heartbeat in the dark.
“You have no choice,” he continued. “Right now, I’ve sent him a message. When he receives it…” A faint, cruel smile curved his lips. “…it will destroy everything. Every love. Every hope. Everything he ever thought he had with you will end the second he sees it. But if you do what I ask…” He leaned back slightly, his eyes gleaming. “…you can walk away with something.”
Tears welled in my eyes. My hands trembled so hard I nearly dropped my bag again. “Why are you doing this?” I cried, my voice breaking like glass. “Why can’t you just let us be?”
Antonio didn’t answer immediately. His silence pressed down on me, heavier than his words.
My mind raced. My chest felt like a cage of splintering bones. Panic clawed at my throat, my heart battering against my ribs as if trying to escape. Everything I had tried to protect—every secret, every love, every fragile hope—teetered on the edge of ruin.
I wanted to fight. To scream. To disappear.
But I was trapped, completely exposed, with no way out.
The fear. The dread. The suffocating tension— It all converged at once, like a wave about to break.
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