Page 206 of The Devil's Thorn
Short. Efficient. That was Matteo for you.
He didn’t waste words unless they had weight behind them. If he said he’d dig into it, he meant it. And if something was buried beneath Lorenzo’s estate—hidden names, bloodlines, the kind of secrets that only surface when it’s too late—he’d bring it to light.
Still… I sat with the message for a long moment, rereading it. No whispers. No trace. No record. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. It only meant it had been well hidden. Deliberately.
And that made sense, didn’t it?
If Lorenzo had a daughter by a woman who defied him… If that woman ran… If she died trying to stay hidden…
He’d erase all trace. Erase the scandal. Erase the weakness. Erase her.
But Isabella had survived. And now—without knowing it—she was walking straight back into the lion’s den.
I gripped the phone tighter. Did she know?
No. I didn’t believe she did. She looked for her family’s killer like someone who still had no answers. She didn’t walk around like the daughter of a Don. She didn’t act like a woman backed by a kingdom of men.
But blood didn’t lie. Even if you never knew where it came from, it spoke.
In your instincts. In the way you carried yourself. In the way you turned pain into armor.
I stared down at the message again, then dropped the phone back on the table with a dull thud and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
This could change everything. Not just for me. Not just for her. But for Naples. For the balance of power. For the kind of war Viktor wanted to start. He was playing both sides, feeding breadcrumbs to me and the Italians, watching who would tear the other apart first.
And we were walking straight into it.
A smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth, but it didn’t hold humor. It was instinct. That old Bratva edge kicking in. The one that came before the kill.
I stood slowly, walking back toward the balcony, the heat of the city washing over me as I opened the door.
Naples.
Viktor.
Lorenzo.
Isabella.
Four triggers. One match.
And I was going to strike it myself.
CHAPTER 17
ISABELLA
The soft hum of the ceiling fan above was the only sound filling the silence as I sat curled up on the worn armchair near Anna’s window. The morning light poured through the glass, brushing the floor in slanted gold, but it didn’t do much to ease the tightness coiled in my chest. My suitcase was by the door, already packed. Kellan and Ash were downstairs, waiting in the car. But I wasn’t ready to leave—not just yet.
Anna moved around the kitchen with quiet precision, the scent of coffee drifting into the room like a slow tide. Her silence felt different today. Not the comforting kind we often shared. This one was taut, like something unsaid was pressing against the walls between us.
I watched her, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’ve been weird all morning.”
She didn’t turn around. Just reached for two cups and poured the coffee like nothing was off. “Weird?” she repeated, her tone light, even amused.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Weird. Quiet. Like… more quiet than usual. And you keep looking at me like you’re memorizing me or something.”
Anna finally turned, her warm eyes landing on me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she crossed the small space and handed me one of the cups. “Maybe I’m just going to miss you.”
