Page 72 of Silence and Surrender

Isabella shifted in her sleep, face contorting slightly as dreams or memories reached for her. I was halfway out of my seat before Cooper’s hand on my arm stopped me.

“Let her sleep if she can,” he advised. “There’ll be time for comfort when she’s ready for it.”

I settled back, recognizing the wisdom in his words even as every instinct screamed to go to her, to shield her from whatever darkness followed her into sleep. This protective urge was new for me—or perhaps not new, just stronger than it had ever been. Now all I wanted was to hold her close and never let go.

“You really love her,” Cooper said quietly. Not a question. An observation.

I didn’t bother denying it. “Yes.”

“Have you told her?”

“No.” The word felt heavy. “And I won’t. Not yet. Not until...” I gestured helplessly towards her sleeping form. “Not until she’s had time to heal. To choose.”

Cooper studied me over his glass. “That’s...surprisingly mature of you.”

“I learned from your mistakes,” I said, the ghost of a smile touching my lips.

That earned a soft chuckle. “Always the smarter twin.”

The Mediterranean gave way to the Italian countryside below, the moonlight casting silver shadows on the olive groves and vineyards as we began our descent. Isabella slept through the landing, the sedative working well. When the plane finally stopped, I gathered her carefully in my arms, her weight barely registering against my chest.

“The car’s waiting,” Stryker said, appearing from the cockpit where he’d been conversing with the pilot. His eyes lingered on Isabella’s sleeping form, rare emotion crossing his usually impassive face. “Steele will keep monitoring the situation in London. No one knows you’re here.”

I nodded my thanks, following Cooper down the aircraft’s stairs and into the Italian night. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of citrus and the distant sea. Isabella stirred slightly as the breeze touched her face, but didn’t wake.

The drive to Rome went quickly, broken only by Isabella’s occasional murmurs as her dreams claimed her. I held her against me in the backseat, whispering reassurances when she tensed, smoothing her hair when she whimpered. Every sound, every movement, made pressure build behind my ribs—a violent rage at what had been done to her, fear for the road ahead, and something deeper, something visceral that I couldn’t quite place.

By the time we reached the city center, the sun was rising, casting dappled patterns across the road. Allegra was waiting inside the hotel lobby, and Cooper gave her a quick peck on the cheek before shifting a small bag Steele had packed for me over his shoulder.

“The penthouse is ready,” Allegra said, leading us toward a private elevator. “I’ve had it stocked with everything Steele’s doctor recommended.”

Cooper rode up the elevator with me, his silence saying more than words could. The weight of what Isabella had endured hung between us. When the doors opened to reveal a spacious room overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea, the beauty of the azure waters seemed almost offensive against the reality of Isabella’s condition.

I carried her against my chest, her weight frighteningly insubstantial. The dawn bathed the room in warm hues, but I barely registered it. My entire world had narrowed to the woman in my arms, her shallow breathing against my neck the only thing that mattered.

Cooper followed behind and set my bag down by a large, cream sofa. He hesitated, concern etched in the lines around his eyes; my mirror image carrying the same weight. “If you need anything, just call.” His hand squeezed my shoulder, a rare moment of brotherly affection. Then he was gone, leaving us alone in our sanctuary.

Isabella remained unconscious as I moved to the bedroom and placed her carefully on the king-size bed. The sheets—crisp, white, expensive—seemed to swallow her diminished form. My heart constricted painfully at the sight. I started running a bath, grateful for the task to occupy my shaking hands.

The penthouse might have been modern and sterile, but the bathroom was luxurious, with soft lighting and warm marble. Steam rose from the oversized tub as I tested the water temperature for the third time—warm enough to chase the chill from her bones, but not hot enough to shock her system. Steele’s doctor had given me detailed instructions about her care, about the delicate balance of warming someone who’d been kept in cold conditions for so long.

A soft cry from the bedroom sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. I rushed back to find her stirring, her face contorted in distress. I scooped her up immediately, cradling her against my thundering heart.

“Hush now…” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion. Fear clawed at me that she might panic, might not recognize where she was or who I was.

Her eyes fluttered open, slightly dilated and rimmed with red. Relief flooded through me when recognition dawned in her eyes. “Colton?” My name on her lips was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

“I’m here, my Bella. I won’t leave you,” I promised, the words a vow more binding than any legal contract I’d ever signed. I brought her to the bathroom, the steam enveloping us in a protective cocoon. I helped her to stand, steadying her as she swayed slightly, dressed only in my tactical vest.

The harsh bathroom lights revealed what the dim lighting had masked—every rib visible beneath bruised skin, hip bones sharp enough to cut. Rage and tenderness warred within me, but I forced my expression to remain gentle. She didn’t need to see my fury now; she needed only to see my love, even if I couldn’t name it yet.

“Let me take care of you,” I said softly, approaching her like a wounded animal. When she nodded, barely perceptible, I helped her out of the vest. I’d dreamed of Isabella naked for months now, but arousal was the furthest thing from my mind. Each new injury I uncovered made me shudder with anger—infected sores from the restraints, raw patches where concrete had rubbed skin away, marks that spoke of rough handling and calculated cruelty.

“The water might sting,” I warned, lifting her as carefully as possible. She felt impossibly light, like a bird with hollow bones. A small hiss escaped her as the water touched her abraded skin, but then she relaxed slightly as warmth began seeping into her body.

I started with her hair, pouring warm water over the matted tangles with infinite care. The expensive shampoo Allegra had left filled the air with the scent of coconut as I worked it through her dark strands, section by section. My hands remained steady despite the fury building in my chest at each new mark I discovered—a cut behind her ear, bruising along her scalp where someone had pulled.

“Tell me if anything hurts too much,” I murmured, carefully working out a knot. “We can stop anytime.”

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