Chapter 47: A New Target
The war with Nico had only just begun, but now, the battlefield had shifted.
This wasn't just about Dante's empire anymore.
Now, it was about her.
A Warning in Blood
The morning after Dante's brutal attack on Nico's club, Isla woke to the sound of distant shouting. She sat up in bed, the silk sheets pooling around her naked body, and listened. The voices were sharp, angry.
Something was wrong.
She slipped out of bed, grabbing the robe Dante had left for her, and padded toward the balcony. From there, she could see the front gates of the estate, where a group of Dante's men had gathered.
Luca stood in the center, his face grim as he examined a package wrapped in black cloth. Dante was there too, his shoulders tense.
A bad feeling coiled in Isla's stomach.
Before she could think twice, she grabbed a gun from Dante's bedside drawer and made her way downstairs.
The Message
Dante looked up the moment Isla stepped outside. His eyes darkened when he saw her in only a robe, but his focus quickly shifted back to the package in Luca's hands.
"Go inside," Dante ordered, his voice firm.
Isla ignored him and walked closer. "What's going on?"
Luca sighed, rubbing his temples. "You don't want to see this."
"Too late." She stepped beside Dante and peered down at the package. The second Luca unwrapped it, she understood why they had been so tense.
Inside was a severed hand.
A woman's hand.
Isla inhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. The fingers were slender, the nails manicured. She knew, without a doubt, that the hand had belonged to one of Dante's informants.
Tucked beneath the hand was a small, bloodstained note.
You took from me, DeLuca. Now I take from you.
- Nico.
Dante's fingers curled into fists. His rage was a tangible thing, crackling in the air like a storm ready to break.
Isla exhaled slowly. "It's a warning."
Luca nodded. "And a declaration." He turned to Dante. "Nico's not backing down. He's making this personal."
Dante's jaw tensed. "It was already personal."
Luca hesitated. "That's not all."
Dante's eyes snapped to him. "There's more?"
Luca pulled out his phone and tapped on a message. Then he handed the device to Dante.
Isla watched as Dante's expression darkened. His lips thinned, and his grip on the phone tightened.
"What is it?" she asked.
Dante turned the screen toward her.
A video played—grainy footage taken from a security camera. Isla squinted, her heart stopping when she recognized what she was looking at.
It was a street. A familiar one.
And standing on the sidewalk was her.
The footage showed Isla leaving a boutique two days ago. She was alone, walking toward a waiting car.
But she wasn't the only one there.
In the corner of the screen, partially obscured by shadows, was a man watching her.
Nico's man.
Her blood ran cold.
The Hunt Begins
"He's been following me," Isla murmured.
Dante's jaw clenched. "And I didn't see it."
She turned to him. "He's not going to stop, is he?"
Dante didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at Luca. "I want every entrance to this estate locked down. No one gets in or out without my permission."
Luca nodded. "Understood."
Dante then turned to his other men. "Double the guards. I want snipers on the rooftops, and I want eyes on every single one of Nico's men. If they so much as breathe near this property, I want them dead."
His men scattered, moving quickly to carry out his orders.
Isla crossed her arms. "You can't just lock me up here like a prisoner."
Dante's eyes snapped to hers, dark and unreadable. "You're not a prisoner."
"Then let me leave."
His gaze hardened. "No."
Isla exhaled sharply. "Dante—"
"No." His voice was like steel. "You don't understand what kind of man Nico is. He doesn't just want revenge—he wants to break me. And he knows the best way to do that is through you."
She swallowed. "So what now?"
Dante stepped closer, his fingers gripping her chin. "Now, I protect what's mine."
A Target on Her Back
The next few days were tense.
Dante kept Isla inside the estate, surrounding her with guards at all times. She was never alone—not even for a second.
But even with all the security, Isla couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
It wasn't paranoia. It was something real.
One night, as she sat in the study, she heard a noise outside her window. A shadow moved beyond the glass, and for a split second, she thought she saw someone standing there.
Watching.
Waiting.
She grabbed the gun Dante had given her and moved toward the window.
The second she reached for the curtain, the door burst open.
Dante was there, his face carved from stone.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
Isla stepped back. "I thought I saw someone."
Dante's eyes flickered to the window. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled out his gun and threw the curtains open.
Nothing.
But that didn't mean no one had been there.
Dante turned back to her, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the room.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
Dante didn't answer.
Not until they reached his bedroom.
He pushed her inside, then locked the door behind them.
She narrowed her eyes. "You're locking me in?"
"Yes."
She crossed her arms. "And what about you?"
Dante stepped closer, his voice low. "I'm staying right here."
Her breath hitched. "You don't have to—"
"I do." His gaze was fierce. "Because I'll be damned if I let that bastard take you from me."
Something inside her cracked.
Despite everything—despite his possessiveness, his cruelty, his obsession—there was something terrifyingly real about the way Dante looked at her.
Like he would kill for her.
Like he would die for her.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure she wanted to stop him.