ISABELLE POV
Isabelle doesn't sleep.
She sits on her bed in the darkness, listening to Marco move through the house below. His footsteps are quiet but she's learned to hear everything in six months of captivity. Every creak. Every breath. Every sound that might mean danger.
At 4 AM, she can't take it anymore.
She slides out of bed and moves to the kitchen drawer where she saw the knives earlier. Her hands shake as she pulls one out. It's a steak knife. Pathetic. But it's something.
Marco is in the living room when she finds him. He's sitting on the couch with his gun on the coffee table and his head in his hands. He looks up when she enters.
His eyes go to the knife.
"That's not going to help you," he says quietly.
"Maybe not." She grips it tighter. "But it makes me feel better."
He nods like he understands. "Fair enough."
The distance between them feels electric. Dangerous. She wants to run but there's nowhere to go. She wants to scream but what would that accomplish? She's alone in this house with a killer who says he's protecting her.
"I need the truth," Isabelle says. Her voice barely works. "All of it. No more half answers."
Marco leans back against the couch. His hands are visible on his knees. Non-threatening. "What do you want to know?"
"Why are you really here?"
"I told you. My father sent me."
"To kill me."
"To silence you." He corrects her like the distinction matters. "There's a difference."
"Not to me there isn't."
Marco's jaw tightens. "My father doesn't care how I handle you. He just wants you gone before the trial. Dead is the obvious solution. But there are others."
"Like what?"
"Like making you disappear. Like convincing you not to testify. Like breaking you down until you're too scared to show up in court." His voice is flat. Clinical. "He gave me options because he wanted to see which one I'd choose."
Isabelle's stomach turns. "This is a test."
"Everything with my father is a test."
She moves closer, still holding the knife between them. "And what were you supposed to choose?"
"The easiest option." Marco meets her eyes. "Seduce you. Gain your trust. Make you believe I care about you. Then eliminate you when you're vulnerable."
The words hit like physical blows.
"That's sick."
"That's the Russo family." There's no emotion in his voice. Just fact. "We don't just kill our enemies. We make them love us first."
Isabelle thinks she might throw up. Six months of nightmares and now she's standing in front of the man who's supposed to make her fall in love before he murders her.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asks.
"Because I'm not going to do it."
"Why not?"
Marco stands. She backs up instinctively but he doesn't move toward her. He walks to the window instead, staring out at the dark street.
"I've been asking myself that since I got the assignment," he says. "My father thinks it's because I'm weak. That I don't have what it takes to be a Russo. Maybe he's right."
"Or maybe you're just not a complete monster."
He laughs. The sound is bitter. "Don't make me into something I'm not. I've killed people, Isabelle. More than you know. I've done things that would give you nightmares worse than the ones you already have."
"Then why won't you kill me?"
The question hangs between them.
Marco turns to face her. "Because you don't deserve it."
"The man in the warehouse didn't deserve it either."
His expression goes hard. "You don't know anything about what happened in that warehouse."
"I know what I saw."
"You saw one moment." His voice rises slightly. "You saw the execution. You didn't see the weeks before. You didn't see what that man did to deserve it."
"Nothing deserves murder."
"You're right." Marco runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing does. But in my world, justice doesn't exist. Only consequences."
Isabelle wants to argue but the exhaustion is crushing her. She's so tired of being afraid. So tired of trying to understand a world that makes no sense.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"Now we make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
Marco's eyes are steady on hers. "I keep you alive. I keep you hidden from my family and from anyone else who wants you dead. You stay in this house. You don't try to escape. You don't try to contact federal agents. You trust me to handle the threats."
"In exchange for what?"
"In exchange for your life." He pauses. "After the trial, you disappear. New identity. New city. I'll make sure the Russo family thinks you're already dead. They'll stop hunting you. You get to start over."
It sounds too good to be true. "And what do you get?"
"I get to not be the man my father wants me to be."
The answer is so simple it almost sounds honest.
Isabelle studies his face, looking for the lie. Looking for the moment when the mask will crack and she'll see the real monster underneath.
But all she sees is a man who looks as trapped as she feels.
"How do I know you won't change your mind?" she asks. "How do I know you won't wake up tomorrow and decide your father was right?"
"You don't." Marco's honesty is brutal. "You don't know anything for certain. You don't know if I'm telling the truth. You don't know if this is all part of the seduction plan. You don't know if I'll protect you or kill you."
"Then why should I agree to this?"
"Because the alternative is worse."
He moves closer. Not threatening. Just close enough that she can see the exhaustion in his eyes that matches her own.
"My father knows where you are," Marco says quietly. "The federal safe house program is compromised. He has people inside. If I walk away, he'll send someone else. Someone who won't hesitate. Someone who won't offer you deals."
"How do I know that's true?"
"You don't." He spreads his hands. "But think about it logically. If the safe house was actually safe, why would I be here? Why would a decorated detective with a perfect record suddenly show up to guard one witness?"
The logic cuts through her fear.
She's been thinking about this all wrong. She's been focused on Marco being the threat when really he's the symptom. The Russo family already found her. They already infiltrated the protection program. Marco being here means the game is already over.
"Oh God," she whispers.
"Yeah." Marco's voice is gentle. "Now you're getting it."
"I'm dead either way."
"Not if you let me protect you."
"You're a Russo. Why would you protect me against your own family?"
"Because I'm tired of being a Russo." The words come out harsh. Raw. "I'm tired of killing for my father. I'm tired of pretending I'm okay with the things we do. I'm tired of being a monster."
Isabelle sees something in his expression that looks like genuine pain.
"So this is your redemption," she says. "Saving me makes you feel better about all the people you killed."
"No." Marco shakes his head. "Saving you doesn't redeem anything. But maybe it makes me something other than what I was born to be."
The knife feels heavy in her hand. She looks down at it. Looks at the man in front of her. Looks at her options.
Trust a killer or die.
Those are her choices.
"I have conditions," she says finally.
Marco's expression shifts. "Okay."
"You don't touch me. You don't come into my room. You sleep downstairs and I sleep upstairs and there's a locked door between us."
"Agreed."
"You tell me the truth. All of it. No more games."
"Agreed."
"And if I think you're lying. If I think for one second that you're setting me up. I run."
Marco's mouth almost smiles. "Where would you run to?"
"I don't know. But I'd try."
"Fair enough." He holds out his hand. "Deal?"
Isabelle stares at his extended hand. This is insane. She's making a deal with the man who murdered someone in front of her. She's agreeing to trust a Russo.
But he's right about one thing. The alternative is worse.
She takes his hand.
His grip is warm. Firm. The handshake of someone sealing a business deal, not a death sentence.
"You can't trust me," Marco says as he releases her hand. "But right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a bullet with your name on it."
The words settle over her like a promise and a threat all at once.
Isabelle goes back upstairs with the knife still in her hand. She locks her bedroom door. She sits on her bed and tries to process what just happened.
She made a deal with a killer.
She's trusting a man who's supposed to destroy her.
And the terrifying part is that some small piece of her believes he might actually keep his word.
Morning light starts creeping through the barred window. Another day in captivity. Another day of fear.
But now the fear has a different shape.
She's not afraid Marco will kill her.
She's afraid of what it means that she's starting to believe he won't.