chapter 4: no turning back

Her surroundings pulsed with life, but for Isabella Rossi, it felt suffocating.

No matter how much she tried to distract herself—working at Carmine's Café, pretending she still had a normal life—her mind kept drifting back to that night.

To him.

To Luca.

Her body had healed, but her thoughts refused to settle. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him again—standing in the shadows, watching as his men tried to kill her.

She needed to move forward.

But first, she needed answers.

And she knew exactly where to get them.

The underground club was packed, filled with the usual mix of criminals, mercenaries, and gangsters drowning their sins in overpriced liquor.

Isabella slid onto a barstool, keeping her hood low.

She wasn't here for drinks.

She was here for Marco, a mid-tier informant in the Moretti family—someone who owed her a favor.

Marco glanced at her warily. "This isn't a good time, Isabella."

She ignored him, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "Then make it quick."

Marco exhaled, running a hand through his graying hair. "There's a contract on your head."

Her grip on the glass tightened.

"I need to know who signed off on it," she said coolly.

Marco hesitated.

Then he sighed. "Luca."

A slow chill crawled up her spine.

"So it's true. He didn't stop them. He's the one hunting me now."

She had suspected it.

But hearing it out loud?

It made her blood turn to ice.

That moment shattered everything for Isabella. The warmth of their past, the stolen moments of happiness—they all felt like a cruel joke. Had Luca ever truly cared? Or had he been playing her all along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

Her heart pounded with fury, her breath ragged. She saw red. A bounty. He didn't just want her gone—he wanted her hunted, like an animal, like she was nothing.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. She would not be his victim. If Luca wanted her dead, she would make sure he regretted ever crossing her.

She wanted revenge. Not just survival—revenge.

Marco shifted in his seat. "He's not the same guy you used to know, Isabella. You should disappear before this gets worse."

Isabella threw back the whiskey, savoring the burn.

"Disappearing isn't an option."

She placed the glass down, stood, and walked out.

She had work to do.

That night, Isabella stood on the rooftop of her safe house, the city sprawling beneath her feet. The cold air bit at her skin, but she barely felt it.

She had told herself that she wouldn't let this affect her. That it didn't matter.

But it did.

Because for the first time in years, she felt something other than numbness.

Not just anger.

Not just hatred.

Something else.

Something far more dangerous.

And that terrified her more than anything.

------

Even at night, the distant hum of cars, the occasional sirens, and the murmurs of the underworld filled the air. For most, it was just background noise.

For Isabella Rossi, it was a reminder that she had no time to rest.

Not when her family had just given an order she couldn't refuse.

Isabella adjusted the sniper scope on the rooftop, keeping her breathing steady.

She had followed Luca's men to their latest weapons shipment—a perfect opportunity to hit them where it hurt.

Her orders were clear: Disrupt the Morettis. Send a message. Make them bleed.

And yet—

As she locked onto Luca's silhouette below, something inside her twisted.

She pulled the trigger.