Isabella POV
"Stop!"
I tackle Enzo before he reaches the north wing hallway. We crash to the floor hard. His elbow hits marble. I hear the air whoosh out of his lungs.
"What are you doing?" He tries to push me off.
"Saving your life, you idiot!" I pin his arms. Not easy—he's strong. "They want you to run up there. They want you to trigger it."
Another explosion shakes the house. Closer this time.
Enzo stops fighting. His eyes meet mine. "You're right."
"I know I'm right."
"You're also on top of me."
Heat floods my face. I roll off him fast. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He stands, pulls me up. "You think like they do now. That's good. That's how you survive."
I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult.
We hear sirens in the distance. Fire trucks. Police. Someone called them.
"We have maybe five minutes before authorities arrive," Enzo says. "If they find us here with bombs, there will be questions. Investigations. The Russos will disappear and we'll be the ones in prison."
"So we leave."
"Not without finding that bomb." His jaw sets. "They put it in my bedroom. Where you sleep now. That's personal. That's a message."
"What message?"
"That they know about us." He starts moving, but carefully now. Checking corners. Testing floorboards. "They know I care about you. They're making sure the bomb kills you too."
My stomach drops. "But I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to evacuate."
"Exactly." Enzo's voice goes cold. "Which means someone told them you'd come back. Someone who knew you wouldn't leave me."
We stare at each other.
"Sophia," I whisper.
"Maybe. Or someone else in the house. Someone who's been watching us."
The thought makes my skin crawl. Someone's been spying on us. Reporting our every move.
We reach the north wing. Smoke fills the hallway from the other explosions. Hard to breathe. My eyes water.
Enzo pulls his shirt over his nose. Gives me his jacket to do the same.
We edge toward his bedroom door. It's closed. Untouched.
"Could be rigged," Enzo says. "The door handle might be the trigger."
"Then how do we get in?"
He thinks for a second. Then kicks the door off its hinges.
The boom echoes through the mansion. But nothing explodes.
We step inside carefully.
The bedroom looks normal. Bed made. Curtains drawn. Nothing obvious.
"Where would you hide a bomb?" Enzo asks me.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because you're smart. And you're not thinking like a killer yet. You're thinking like someone who wants to hurt someone they love." He looks at me. "Where would you put it?"
I scan the room. Bed? Too obvious. Closet? Maybe. Bathroom? Possible.
Then I see it.
The connecting door. The door between his room and mine. The door I stare at every night.
"There." I point. "They put it in my room. On my side of the door. So when you came to check on me—"
"I'd trigger it." Enzo's face goes pale. "Jesus. If you'd been in there sleeping—"
We move to my door. Enzo presses his ear against it. Listening.
"Ticking," he confirms. "Definitely a bomb."
The sirens are louder now. Maybe two minutes away.
"We have to disarm it," I say.
"No time. We run."
"It'll destroy everything."
"I don't care."
"I do!" The words explode out of me. "This house is all you have left of your wife. These rooms, these things—they matter. You can't just let them burn."
Enzo grabs my shoulders. "Things can be replaced. You can't."
"But—"
"No." His grip tightens. "I lost Lucia to cancer. I watched her die slowly for two years and couldn't do anything. I won't lose you to a bomb because I was too stubborn to run." He pulls me toward the hallway. "We're leaving. Now."
I let him drag me three steps.
Then I hear it.
Crying.
Someone's crying in my room.
"Wait." I freeze. "There's someone in there."
"Impossible. Everyone evacuated—"
"Listen."
We both go silent.
The crying continues. Soft. Muffled. Definitely human.
"One of the staff," I breathe. "Someone didn't make it out."
Enzo's face hardens. "Or it's a trap. A recording to lure us in."
"What if it's not?"
We stare at each other. The sirens wail outside. The bomb ticks inside. Time bleeds away with every heartbeat.
"If I open that door," Enzo says slowly, "and there's really a person in there, I have maybe thirty seconds to get them and the bomb out before it explodes."
"Then we do it together."
"Isabella—"
"Thirty seconds for one person is impossible. Thirty seconds for two people is hard but possible." I grab the door handle. "On three. One—"
"Wait." Enzo positions himself beside me. "If this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"If it does, I want you to know—" He stops. Struggles with words. "You're the first thing I've cared about since Lucia died. The first person who made me feel human again."
My throat closes up. "Enzo—"
"Three," he says.
We kick the door open together.
The room is full of smoke. Can barely see anything. But there—huddled in the corner—is a woman.
Not staff.
My mother.
"Mom?" I can't believe it. "What are you—I thought you evacuated—"
She looks up. Her face is wrong. Blank. Empty.
"I'm sorry, baby," she whispers.
That's when I see the detonator in her hand.
"No—" I start.
Mom presses the button.
The world explodes.
I feel Enzo grab me. Feel him throw both of us backward through the door. Feel the heat and force of the blast hit like a wall.
We fly through the air. Crash into the hallway. My head cracks against something hard.
Everything goes fuzzy.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Enzo shouting my name. Feel his hands on my face. Taste blood in my mouth.
"Stay with me," he's saying. "Isabella, stay with me—"
I try to answer but can't.
The last thing I see before everything goes black is my mother.
Still sitting in the burning room.
Not moving.
Not running.
Just sitting there as flames swallow her whole.
She chose this.
She chose death.
And she almost took me with her.
I wake up in a car. Moving fast. Enzo driving with one hand, the other holding mine.
"You're awake." His voice cracks with relief. "Thank God, you're awake."
"Mom—" I croak.
"Don't." His hand tightens on mine. "Don't think about it right now."
But I have to think about it. My mother just tried to kill us both. My mother worked with the Russos. My mother was the spy in the house.
Both my parents betrayed me.
"Why?" The word comes out broken. "Why would she—"
"I don't know." Enzo's jaw clenches. "But we're going to find out."
We pull up to a building I don't recognize. Enzo helps me out. I'm dizzy. Everything hurts.
We go inside. It's a hospital. Private. Guards everywhere.
"Where are we?" I ask.
"Safe house medical facility." Enzo guides me to a room. "Doctor's going to check you out. Make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You have a concussion and burns and—" His voice breaks. "You almost died."
"So did you."
We stare at each other. Both alive. Both damaged. Both confused.
The doctor comes. Examines me. Says I'll live but need rest.
Enzo doesn't leave my side the whole time.
After, we sit in the hospital room in silence. I'm trying to process everything. My father's death. My mother's suicide. The bombs. The betrayal.
"Why did they want me dead so badly?" I finally ask. "I'm nobody. I don't know anything important. Why go through all this trouble?"
Enzo is quiet for a long moment.
Then he says, "Because you're not nobody. You're Victor Romano's heir. When he died, everything he owned—all his debts, all his secrets, all his deals—transferred to you legally."
I blink. "What?"
"Your father owed the Russos three million dollars. Now you owe them three million dollars." Enzo's eyes are dark. "And they have a signed contract from your father. A contract that says if he can't pay, they own his daughter instead."
The room spins.
"You mean—"
"You're collateral, Isabella. And the Russos are coming to collect."