She pressed her palms together, whispering a prayer she wasn't sure anyone could hear anymore.
"Please… don't let him become the monster they say he is."
Her words were swallowed by the storm.
Downstairs, Damian's car engine roared to life, cutting through the rain as he drove toward the Romano estate toward a confrontation that would change everything.
And high above them, unseen through the storm, a red laser flickered across the glass window of Isabella's room…
A sniper's scope.
The crosshairs settled directly over her heart.
The rain came down hard that night, slicing through the dark like liquid glass.
Damian stood by the tall window, his white shirt half undone, the faint glow from the city outlining his form like a fallen god drenched in sin.
He hadn't spoken since the dinner since the moment Antonio's men tried to take Isabella away.
Now, silence filled the mansion like poison.
Isabella sat on the edge of the velvet couch, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed the edge of a towel to her wet hair. The clock ticked. Her heartbeat echoed louder.
Finally, he spoke.
"You shouldn't have looked at him like that."
Her head snapped up. "Like what?"
His eyes cut to her sharp, stormy, unforgiving. "Like he still owns a part of you."
Her breath hitched. "He's my father, Damian."
"That stopped mattering when he sold you."
The words hit like a slap. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger and pain battling behind her eyes. "You think I wanted any of this? You think I…."
He moved before she could finish,crossing the room in two strides.
His hand caught her wrist, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You think I don't know what it feels like to be betrayed by blood?" His voice dropped to a whisper, raw and dangerous.
"I know what it's like to be owned, Isabella. I won't let it happen to you again. Even if I have to be your cage to keep you safe."
Her lips parted, a protest, a plea, but it died when his thumb brushed the pulse at her throat.
The warmth of his touch burned through her skin, scattering her thoughts. "You don't have to protect me," she whispered, voice trembling. "You just have to let me breathe."
He hesitated. And for a heartbeat, the mask cracked.
Then the phone on the table buzzed.
He released her and turned away, jaw tight. "Luca?"
Luca's voice came through the speaker, tense.
"We've got movement. Antonio's men they're not backing off. They've been seen near the south docks."
Damian's eyes darkened. "He's pushing me."
"He's trying to pull her back," Luca replied. "You know how far he'll go."
A beat of silence.
Then Damian's voice, calm and lethal: "Then I'll go farther."
Isabella's breath caught. "Damian, please.."
But he was already walking away, grabbing his coat. "Stay inside. Don't open the door for anyone. Luca will be downstairs."
"Damian…"
He paused at the doorway, rainlight catching the edge of his jaw. "If he wants a war," he said, voice like steel, "he just found one."
The door slammed shut behind him, and Isabella was left staring at the empty space where he'd been torn between fear for the man she hated and the ache she couldn't silence.
Outside, thunder rolled.
And somewhere in the distance, a single gunshot broke the night.
The sound of the gunshot echoed long after it ended swallowed by the storm but still burning in Isabella's chest.
She shot to her feet, her towel slipping from her fingers, heart pounding so loud it drowned the thunder.
The mansion's windows rattled as wind howled through the cracks.
Then came the footsteps.
Heavy. Rushed. Coming closer.
"Luca?" she called out, voice trembling.
No answer.
The silence stretched, sharp as a blade. Then the faintest creak of the door.
Her pulse spiked. She backed away slowly until her knees hit the edge of the couch. Her fingers closed around the only thing near her a glass vase. She lifted it, knuckles white.
"Isabella."
She froze.
Luca stepped into view, rain dripping from his jacket, his face tense and unreadable. "It's me," he said quickly, hands raised. "Put that down before you hurt yourself."
Relief flooded her so fast it hurt. "What happened? That shot…"
"It wasn't Damian," he cut in. "Not yet, at least. But he's out there, and Antonio's men are everywhere."
Her chest tightened. "We have to go after him."
"No." Luca's tone was sharp. "He told me to keep you here. He meant it."
"Luca…"
"Do you have any idea what's happening out there?" he snapped, moving closer. "Antonio didn't send a message, he sent a declaration.
You're not just a daughter anymore, Isabella. You're the spark he's using to light a war."
Her voice faltered. "A war between my father and Damian…"
He nodded grimly. "And everyone caught in between."
For a moment, the room fell silent except for the storm beating against the glass. Luca looked at her and really looked at her and the edge in his voice softened.
"You shouldn't have been dragged into this."
Her throat tightened. "It's too late for shouldn't."
He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the tension in his jaw. "If things go wrong tonight, Damian won't forgive himself."
"What about you?" she asked quietly.
His eyes flickered something raw, something unspoken then he looked away. "I'm used to losing things I can't protect."
The air between them thickened, full of something fragile and dangerous. For a heartbeat, the war outside didn't exist.
There was only the sound of rain, and the way Luca's gaze lingered on her lips before he turned sharply away.
He cursed under his breath. "Stay here, Bella. Promise me."
She wanted to but the image of Damian walking into the storm alone wouldn't leave her.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Isabella…"
But she was already moving, pulling open the drawer beside the couch and snatching the small pistol she'd hidden days ago one Damian didn't know she'd found.
Her voice trembled, but her resolve didn't. "If I'm the spark," she said, meeting Luca's eyes, "then maybe I can stop the fire."
Before he could stop her, she ran. Barefoot, breathless, straight into the storm.
And behind her, Luca cursed again this time softer, almost broken before grabbing his gun and following her into the night.