Chapter 9

As the night wore on, the once boisterous laughter of Dominic’s men faded into tired yawns and murmured goodnights. Isabella was about to retire to her quarters, having just waved goodbye to Dominic's little sister. She walked down the dimly lit hall, her thoughts on the events of the day, when she heard hushed voices emanating from a room nearby.

Normally, she would have walked by without a second thought, but something deep inside urged her to listen. She pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear the conversation.

“You seem really interested in her, Dominic,” a woman’s voice said, laced with anger and jealousy.

Dominic’s husky chuckle followed, a sound that both comforted and now, unexpectedly, hurt her. “She’s just an ally. That’s it. I’m simply using the family for my benefit, Syrian.”

The words stung more than she expected. Isabella had started to see Dominic in a different light, thinking maybe he saw her as more than just a pawn in their dangerous game. But now, hearing him so callously dismiss her, she felt a pang of betrayal and sadness.

Isabella sighed softly, pushing herself off the wall and continuing down the hall toward her room. As she passed the room, she didn’t spare Dominic a glance, but she could feel the woman’s eyes on her. Curious and resentful, she turned her head to get a better look.

Syrian was stunning. Long, platinum blonde hair cascaded in waves down her back, framing a face with high cheekbones, piercing green eyes, and perfectly pouty lips. She was the epitome of elegance and beauty, her posture exuding confidence and entitlement.

Isabella scoffed softly, turning away and heading to her room. She felt the weight of Syrian’s gaze on her back until she closed the door behind her. Alone in her room, she leaned against the door, taking a deep breath to steady her emotions. The day’s events had been exhausting enough without this unexpected emotional blow.

She crossed the room to the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds. Dominic’s words echoed in her mind, mingling with the lingering image of Syrian’s perfect face.

“Just an ally… using the family for my benefit…”

Isabella shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She had to focus on the bigger picture, the mission, and the safety of her family. Whatever Dominic’s true intentions were, she had to stay strong and not let his words get to her.

But deep down, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss for something she hadn’t even realized she wanted – his genuine respect and perhaps even something more. As she got ready for bed, Isabella vowed to herself to keep her guard up and not let Dominic or anyone else see her vulnerabilities. She would fight just as hard emotionally as she did physically, proving that she was more than just a pawn in this deadly game.

Isabella woke up to the persistent buzzing of her phone on the nightstand. She groaned, her hand fumbling for the device before bringing it to her ear. “What,” she growled into the phone, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Piccola, that’s no way to talk to your father,” Don’s voice growled back, filled with authority.

Isabella instantly sat up, her eyes wide with realization. “Papa, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her tone shifting to one of respect and apology.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Don spoke again. “We’ve had a sighting of Russo. I need you to let Dominic know immediately.”

Isabella nodded, even though her father couldn’t see her. “Yes, Papa,” she said, her voice subdued.

Don’s tone softened. “Piccola, if there is anything wrong, you know I would fix it.”

Isabella chuckled faintly, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Yes, Papa, I know,” she whispered.

She clung to the phone tightly, her heart aching with homesickness. She missed her family and was growing weary of the constant tension and isolation. “Papa…” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Before she could say more, she heard her mother’s voice in the background through the phone. “Oh, is that my baby?” her mother shouted excitedly. Don laughed, handing the phone over.

“Hi, baby!” her mother’s cheerful voice rang through the phone, lifting Isabella’s spirits slightly.

Isabella sighed, feeling a bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness. “Hi, Momma. I love you. I have to go,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” her mother replied warmly.

Isabella hung up the phone, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away, steeling herself for the task at hand. She walked out of her room, her steps determined as she made her way to Dominic’s quarters to relay her father’s message.

As she reached Dominic’s door, she paused, hearing muffled noises coming from inside. Her heart sank as she recognized the unmistakable sounds of intimacy. Disgust and frustration bubbled up inside her, and she turned on her heel, walking away swiftly.

Russo had to be taken down, even if she had to do it herself. She couldn’t stand being here any longer, feeling like a pawn in a game where she was constantly underestimated and dismissed.

She walked briskly through the corridors, her mind racing. How could Dominic be so careless, so indifferent? Anger fueled her steps as she made her way to the training area. She needed to channel her emotions into something productive, something that would help her feel in control again.

As she entered the training room, she spotted a punching bag in the corner. Without hesitation, she began to pummel it, each strike releasing a bit of the frustration and sadness that had built up inside her. The room echoed with the sound of her fists hitting the bag, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Minutes turned into hours as Isabella trained relentlessly, pushing her body to its limits. She could feel the sting of blisters forming on her knuckles, but she didn’t care. She needed this outlet, this release.

Finally, exhausted and drenched in sweat, she leaned against the wall, catching her breath. Her thoughts returned to Russo and the danger he posed to her family. She couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment. She had to stay focused and find a way to help Dominic and her father bring him down.

As she stood there, she realized that her determination and strength were her greatest assets. She wouldn’t let Dominic’s dismissive attitude or the challenges she faced break her spirit. She was Isabella, daughter of Don, and she would prove herself worthy of her family’s legacy.

With renewed resolve, she wiped her brow and headed back to her room to clean up. She needed to be ready for whatever came next, whether it was facing Dominic or taking on Russo herself. She would do whatever to protect her family.