His confession wasn't a promise. It was a curse.
She wanted to tell him to stop to let her go before the darkness consumed them both but her body betrayed her again.
Her hand lifted, brushing his jaw, feeling the heat beneath his cold control.
"You're bleeding," she whispered.
"So are you," he murmured back.
It wasn't until then that she realized glass had nicked her collarbone. A thin line of red gleamed against her pale skin.
Damian's thumb moved to it instinctively, wiping away the blood with unsettling tenderness.
And for a fleeting second, the violence faded, replaced by silence and the sound of rain.
Then Luca's voice crackled through the room.
"Damian. You need to see this."
He froze. "What is it?"
"Security feed from the roof. You're not going to like it."
Minutes later…
They stood in front of the flickering monitor, the footage playing in black-and-white.
A masked shooter crawled across the wet rooftop, aiming at the penthouse window.
Damian watched coldly as the man straight at the camera and lifted his hand.
He wasn't holding a gun anymore.
He was holding a ring.
A signet ring.
One Damian recognized instantly.
Antonio's crest.
The footage was cut off.
Isabella's knees nearly gave out. "No…"
Damian's hands clenched at his sides, the fury in his eyes dark and bottomless. "He sent them," he said quietly, every word a blade. "Your father ordered a hit on you."
Isabella shook her head, tears welling. "No, he wouldn't…he…"
"He would," Damian snapped. "He already gave you away once, Isabella. Don't make the mistake of believing he wouldn't sacrifice you again."
Her breath came in shuddering waves, her voice breaking. "Then why am I still alive?"
Damian stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "Because they know the only way to destroy me… is through you."
The storm hadn't stopped since the gunfire.
Thunder rolled over the Moretti mansion like an omen, shaking the walls as if the sky itself was warning them that the night was far from over.
Damian stood by the window, with his shirt discarded, bandage stark against his bruised shoulder.
The reflection in the glass was not the man Isabella once feared it was something darker,quieter.
His eyes were locked on the city lights below, but his mind was a battlefield.
Isabella sat on the couch behind him, wrapped in a silk robe, her fingers twisting the edge of the fabric.
The echo of what they'd seen the ring, her father's crest still burned in her chest.
Her voice trembled when she finally broke the silence.
"You think my father… sent those men?"
Damian didn't turn around. "I don't think, Isabella." His voice was sharp, carved in steel. "I know."
She swallowed hard. "There could be another explanation."
Damian turned then slowly, deliberately and when his eyes found hers, she wished he hadn't.
"Don't defend him," he said quietly. "He sold you like you were a goods for exchange. You think betrayal is beneath him?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came. The truth was a knife she couldn't swallow.
He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the marble. "The deal he made with my father wasn't just to save his own life. He traded you to guarantee his loyalty.
And now that you're mine…" He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek. "He's decided to erase his mistake."
Her heart twisted painfully. "Then what will you do?"
He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What I always do, amore mio. End the threat."
Her pulse spiked. "You mean kill him?"
Damian tilted his head, studying her. "Would you rather I let him kill you?"
Tears filled her eyes, blurring the sharp lines of his face. "He's my father."
"He's a traitor," Damian snapped. "A man who puts a bullet through his own blood doesn't deserve mercy."
She shook her head, her voice trembling. "If you kill him, Damian, there's no coming back from that."
He stepped even closer until the air between them tightened, humming with anger and something else, something far more dangerous.
"I was never meant to come back, Isabella. You still think I'm the man who can be saved.
But you're the only good thing left in this house.and he tried to take that from me."
His hand rose, fingers brushing her jaw. His touch was possessive, almost reverent.
"I won't forgive that."
Her breath hitched. "You'll lose yourself."
He smiled faintly. "I already have."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Rain lashed against the windows like applause from the heavens.
The tension between them coiled tighter and tighter until Isabella felt her body trembling not from fear, but from something far more complicated.
"Damian…" she whispered. "Promise me you'll think before you do anything."
He leaned down, his lips ghosting over hers not touching, just enough to make her heartbeat stumble.
"You don't understand, Bella . When it comes to you, I stop thinking."
The space between them broke.
He kissed her rough, desperate, full of the violence that lived inside him.
She should've pushed him away, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers curled into his chest, clutching him like he was both her damnation and her salvation.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was ragged. "Go to your room. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me."
She blinked, dazed. "Where are you going?"
His eyes hardened against the soldier returning to the surface. "To remind Antonio Romano that the devil keeps his bargains."
Later That Night
Luca was waiting in the courtyard when Damian stepped out, fully dressed in black.
The rain had soaked the ground, turning the gravel to mud. The headlights of two armored cars cut through the fog.
"You're not thinking straight," Luca said calmly, lighting a cigarette. "This isn't a move. It's a reaction."
Damian's expression didn't waver. "He tried to have her killed."
Luca exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "Or someone wants you to think that."
That gave Damian pause. His hand tightened on the gun at his side.
"What are you saying?"
Luca tossed the cigarette away. "I'm saying whoever sent that assassin wanted to ignite this exact war. Antonio's crest could've been planted. A setup."
Damian's gaze flicked toward the mansion, where faint light glowed from Isabella's room upstairs.
If Luca was right… he'd be playing right into someone's hands.
He turned back to his second-in-command. "Find out who else had access to Antonio's men. Anyone with ties to the Romano estate."
"And if it was Antonio?"
Damian's eyes went cold. "Then I'll burn the Romanos to ash."
Luca nodded once and disappeared into the rain.
Upstairs
Isabella couldn't sleep.
Every shadow in the room felt alive, every whisper of thunder like the sound of boots approaching her door.
Her thoughts spiraled to her father, to Damian's promise, to the blood that would soon stain one of their hands.