Isabella POV
"No."
Enzo doesn't even look up from loading his gun. "This isn't a discussion."
"I said no." My voice shakes but I don't back down. "You can't just leave me here while you walk into a trap. They'll kill you."
"They'll try." He slides the gun into his jacket. "Marco, get her to the safe room."
Marco reaches for my arm. I jerk away.
"What about your daughter?" I demand. "You haven't seen her in ten years and now you're just going to—what? Trade yourself for her? That's stupid. That's exactly what they want."
Enzo finally looks at me. His eyes are dead. Empty. The man who held me an hour ago is gone.
"Sophia is my blood," he says quietly. "Arthur is my blood. You think I won't burn alive to save them?"
"And what happens to me when you're dead?"
The question hangs in the air. Marco shifts uncomfortably.
Enzo crosses the room in three steps. Grabs my face between his hands. Not gentle. Not rough. Just desperate.
"You hide. You survive. You take everything I built and you live." His thumb brushes my cheek. "That's what happens. You live, Isabella. Even if I don't."
"I don't want—"
He kisses me. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to taste like goodbye.
Then he's gone.
The door slams. His footsteps echo down the hall. A car engine roars to life outside.
I stand there, frozen, while Marco stares at his phone.
"He's really going alone," Marco whispers. "That idiot is really going alone."
Something breaks inside me. "Then we follow him."
"What?"
"You heard me." I grab my jacket. "We follow him. We help him. We don't just hide and wait to see if he comes back in a body bag."
Marco's eyes go wide. "Isabella, he'll kill us—"
"He'll kill us if we let his kids die." I'm already moving toward the door. "Arthur is your boyfriend. Are you really going to sit here while he gets executed?"
That does it. Marco's face hardens. "Fine. But we need weapons. And a plan. And probably therapy after this."
"Weapons first. Therapy later."
We run.
Twenty minutes later, we're in Marco's car, racing through dark streets. I'm holding a gun that feels too heavy in my hands. Marco keeps checking his phone.
"The tracker says Enzo's heading to the old warehouse district," he says. "That's Russo territory. Of course it is."
"The Russos?" My stomach drops. "My father's working with the Russos?"
"Your father's working with whoever pays him." Marco takes a corner too fast. "The Russos have wanted Enzo dead for years. Your dad just gave them the perfect bait."
I think about my father. The man who used to read me bedtime stories. The man who taught me to ride a bike. The man who sold me to save himself.
The man who tried to have me murdered tonight.
"I hope Enzo kills him," I say softly.
Marco glances at me. "You mean that?"
"Yes." And I do. God help me, I do.
We arrive at the warehouse ten minutes after Enzo. His car is parked outside, empty. No guards. No backup.
He really came alone.
"This is insane," Marco mutters as we sneak toward the building. "We're going to die. We're absolutely going to die."
"Probably." I check my gun like Enzo taught me last week. "But at least we'll die doing something instead of hiding."
We slip through a side door. The warehouse is huge and dark and smells like rust and blood. Voices echo from somewhere deep inside.
We follow them.
We find them in the center of the warehouse. Arthur and a girl I don't recognize—must be Sophia—are tied to chairs. Blood on their faces. Guns pointed at their heads.
Enzo stands fifteen feet away, hands raised, surrounded by at least twenty armed men.
My father stands beside the Russo boss, smiling.
"So predictable," Dad says. "I told them you'd come alone. I told them you'd do anything for your brats."
"Let them go, Victor." Enzo's voice is calm. Too calm. "This is between us."
"No." The Russo boss steps forward. "This is about you dying. Finally. After all these years."
"Then shoot me." Enzo spreads his arms wider. "I'm right here. But let my kids walk first."
The Russo boss laughs. "You think I'm stupid? The second they're free, your guards will storm this place."
"I came alone."
"Liar."
A gunshot cracks through the air.
Everyone freezes.
Sophia screams. Arthur jerks against the ropes.
But nobody's been hit.
My father is the one who fired. He's pointing his gun at Enzo now, hand shaking.
"I should've killed you years ago," Dad says. His voice breaks. "You took everything from me. My business. My reputation. My daughter."
"I took nothing you didn't sell first," Enzo replies.
"Shut up!" Dad's finger tightens on the trigger. "Shut up, shut up—"
"Dad, stop!"
The words burst out of me before I can stop them.
Every head turns. Twenty guns swing toward me and Marco.
"Isabella?" My father's face goes white. "What are you—how did you—"
"I followed him." I step into the light, gun raised even though my hands won't stop shaking. "And if you shoot Enzo, I'll shoot you."
"Baby, no—" Dad lowers his gun slightly. "You don't understand—"
"I understand you tried to have me killed tonight." My voice cracks. "I understand you sold me. I understand everything, Dad. Finally."
The Russo boss grins. "Well, this is touching. Victor, want to kill your daughter yourself? Or should we?"
My father's gun wavers between me and Enzo.
Time freezes.
I see the choice on his face. Save himself or save me.
He raises the gun.
Points it at me.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers. "But they'll kill me if I don't—"
Three things happen at once.
Enzo lunges forward.
Marco shoots one of the guards.
And my father pulls the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening.
I feel the bullet pass so close to my head that my hair moves.
Then chaos explodes. Everyone's shooting. Enzo reaches Arthur and Sophia, cutting their ropes with a hidden knife. Marco drags me behind a crate.
"Stay down!" he yells.
But I can't. I can't hide anymore.
I peek around the crate and see my father running for the exit. The coward is running while everyone else fights.
Something inside me snaps.
I chase him.
"Isabella, no!" Marco's voice fades behind me.
I catch Dad at the side door. Grab his jacket. Spin him around.
"You shot at me," I say. Can't believe the words. "You actually shot at me."
"They made me—" Tears stream down his face. "The Russos said they'd torture me—"
"So you chose yourself. Again." I raise my gun. Point it at his chest.
My father's eyes go wide. "You won't. You're not a killer."
"Maybe I am now." My finger touches the trigger. "Maybe that's what you made me."
"Isabella, please—"
A hand grabs my wrist. Gentle but firm.
Enzo.
He's covered in blood. Breathing hard. Behind him, I hear more fighting. More screams.
"Don't," he says softly. "Not like this. Not him."
"He tried to kill me." Tears burn my eyes. "He tried to kill all of us."
"I know." Enzo takes the gun from my shaking hands. "Which is why I'll do it."
He shoots my father.
Three times.
Center mass. Just like he taught me.
Dad drops. Eyes wide. Blood spreading across his chest.
"Why?" he gasps at me. Last word. Last breath.
Then nothing.
I stare at the body. The man who raised me. The monster who betrayed me.
I feel nothing.
That's the scariest part.
I feel absolutely nothing.
"Isabella." Enzo pulls me away. "We need to move. Now."
He drags me back toward the others. Arthur and Sophia are free, helping Marco fight. The Russo boss is dead. His men are retreating.
We won.
But it doesn't feel like winning.
We pile into cars. Speed away before police arrive. Nobody talks.
Back at the mansion, Enzo sits me down in his office. Pours whiskey. Makes me drink it.
"Your father's death will be ruled a gang shooting," he says. "You were never there. Understand?"
I nod.
"And tomorrow, you move into the room next to mine. No arguments. No discussion. You're staying where I can protect you."
"Okay."
He studies my face. "You're in shock."
"Probably."
"It'll hit you later. When it does, you come find me. Day or night. Understand?"
I nod again.
Enzo kneels in front of me. Takes my hands. They're still shaking.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he says quietly. "I'm sorry about all of it."
"Are you sorry you killed him?"
"No."
"Good." I squeeze his hands. "Because I'm not either."
Something changes in his eyes. Respect maybe. Or recognition.
He sees what I'm becoming.
What he's made me.
"Get some sleep," he says. "Tomorrow's going to be—"
The office door slams open.
Arthur stumbles in, supporting Sophia. She's pale. Shaking. There's blood on her dress.
"She's been shot," Arthur says. Voice panicked. "The bullet grazed her side. She needs a doctor—"
"No doctors," Sophia gasps. "No hospitals. They'll ask questions—"
"I don't care—" Arthur starts.
"There's something else." Sophia's eyes find Enzo. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you. About why I really came back. About who sent me."
Enzo goes very still. "What are you talking about?"
Sophia's laugh is bitter. Broken. "The Russos didn't kidnap me tonight. I was already working with them. They sent me here six months ago to get close to you. To find your weaknesses." She looks at me. "And then you married her, and everything changed, and I tried to get out but—"
"But what?" Enzo's voice could freeze hell.
"But there's still one more part of their plan." Sophia sways. "The bomb. They planted a bomb somewhere in this house. Set to go off in—" She checks her watch. "Twenty minutes. I don't know where. They never told me where."
Silence.
Then everyone starts shouting at once.