"The Vow He Denied"

Chapter 4

"Bound in Shadows"

Isabella's POV

His words squished down on me, choking. My life in Paris had been calm—or so I had believed. Was it all a lie? Had I truly been living under the false sense of security while peril lurks in the background?

I shook my head and mumbled, "That's impossible." Nobody even knew who I was. I altered everything, including my name and look.

And it wasn't enough. Alessandro's voice broke through my denial, piercing. Isabella, you cannot run away from this. All along, they knew who you were.

"Why?." My voice broke, the uncertainty and anxiety pouring forth. "Why would they follow me?"

His jaw closed and he turned away, his quiet speaking volumes.

"You're not telling me something," I replied, approaching closely and my voice shaking with accusation. "What are you not saying, Alessandro?"

His eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and resolution, he turned back to meet me. "Because it goes beyond just you. It speaks to us personally.

Us? I went again, my heart thumping. "In years, Alessandro, there hasn't been a 'we.'. You confirmed that.

"Maybe I did," he said, his voice softer now and tinged with remorse. Whether you like it or not, it doesn't change the fact that our connection remains. And they are leveraging that relationship against us.

"Who are they?" I insisted, my terror giving way to rage. "Who's after us?"

He stopped, the words obviously weighing strongly on him. "Scorpios."

Though the name meant nothing to me, the way he phrased it chilled me down. "Who are they?" I asked, my voice starting to rise. And why are they seeking me?

"They are a subterranean syndicate," he remarked solemnly. "Beyond anything you have ever seen. And they want to demolish everything linked to me, not only bring me down. Including you.

As the weight of his comments sank in, the room seemed smaller. Alessandro approached, his presence overpowering. My breath stopped as he reached out, his fingertips lightly stroking my arm—a brief touch but sufficient to get my heart pounding.

His voice low and somewhat weak, he added, "I never wanted this for you." "I reasoned that they would leave you alone if I drove you away. With my distance, I thought I could shield you.

"Well, congrats," I said sharply, jerking my arm away. "You failed."

His eyes hardened, his discontent smoldering just below the surface. Do you find this easy for me? Would you say I like watching you dragged into this hell?

Then let me go, I said, my voice breaking. "Let me go and work this out on my own..."

His hand came out, grabbing my wrist—not strong but sufficient to halt me. "I am unable."

"Why not?" I murmured, the tears I had been stifling at last pouring over. "Why can't you let me go straight forward?"

"Because I love you," he whispered, the words striking between us like a thunderclap.

The sound of splintering wood rang from the corridor beyond before I could absorb his confession. Head pointed toward the door, Alessandro's whole body stiffened like a predator sensing danger.

He continued, his voice lowering to a lethal whisper: "They're here." He motioned for me to keep behind him and freed my wrist, drawing his revolver.

My heart pounded as the sounds intensified—footsteps, muted voices, the unmistakable metallic clink of firearms being loaded.

Alessandro said, "We don't have time for this," his eyes darting over the room. He pointed toward a small vent in the corner. Enter here.

"What?" I gasped, panic ringing my voice. "I'm not crawling into a vent!”

"You'll do it if you want to live," he said, his voice devoid of any space for debate.

The door burst open before I could argue any more, and a gang of masked guys rushed in with rifles aimed at us. Alessandro shot precisely, removing two of them before they could react, moving faster than I could have imagined.

But there were far too many. Grabbing me, Alessandro dragged me toward the vent. He yelled, "Go!" shoving me forward.

I hesitated; my dread anchored me. "What about you??"

"I'll hold them off," he responded, his voice firm in the middle of the turmoil breaking out around us. "Move now!"

Tears distorted my view as I ascended the vent; every second that passed broke my heart. I heard Alessandro yell just as I dragged myself inside, then a thunderous gunshot.

"Alessandro!..." I yelled, my voice resonating in the little room.

Nevertheless, there was no reply. Only quiet.

The stillness was intolerable. The anarchy I had just left behind hammered against every beat of my heart. I stopped in the small vent, the iron walls like a coffin pushing against me. My body objected to my head screaming for me to move.

"Alessandro!" I phoned once more, desperation shaking in my voice. The sole reply was the faint echo of my own scream.

I stayed with him, unable to go. Not like this.

I inhaled shakily, then turned back toward the opening of the vent. The weak glimmer of the flickering light from the room crept into the little area and created sinister shadows. I started to crawl back out, my fingertips gripping the edge of the vent, until I heard voices.

"She's gone," a man growled. His voice was sharp and frustrated. Still here, though, De Luca is. Finish him accordingly.

As the words set in, my blood froze. Complete him. Not sure. None could.

Another voice said, "Do it," this one cooler, more deliberate. "The manager requests evidence."

To stop the gasp trying to flee, I placed a hand over my mouth. I pushed ahead in the vent, searching without making a sound. The little apertures let one get a partial glimpse of the chamber below. On his knees, blood splattering his clothes and pooling around Alessandro. His gun vanished, thrown out of reach by one of the men in masks.

The first man taunted, "Any last words, De Luca," elevating his weapon and pushing it to Alessandro's temple.

Indeed, Alessandro rasped, his voice harsh but forceful. You are seriously making a mistake.

The man laughed. "I'm not sure."

Alessandro moved with incredible speed, catching the man's arm and whirling it before he could fire the trigger. The gun fired, the sound filling the space. As Alessandro tackled another assailant in the single second of diversion, he disarmed him fluidly.

Watching Alessandro struggle with the ferocity of a man without everything left to lose, my heart jumped. He was outnumbered, though, and I could feel his strength dwindling with every strike he made.

I owed it to someone. Anybody.

My fingers shook as I searched for anything—any weapon—that would fit. Except for rusted screws and dust, the vent was empty; I was not going to sit here and wait for him to pass.

"Move, nasty it!" I urged my body to move silently. Seeking an opening that would bring me closer to Alessandro, I crawled farther down the vent. Grunts of agony and screamed curses punctuated the increasing sound of the struggle.

One of the men asked, his voice desperate: "Where's the girl?" She could not have gone far!

Another snapped, "Forget her." "Give him your whole attention."

Directly over the group, I found a vent panel. Despite the small opening, if I managed to pass through, it would provide an element of surprise. My palms were moistened with sweat as I gripped the vent's edges and pushed with all my might. The panel crested but held fast.

I said, "Come on," bit my lip, and tried one again. This time the panel gave apart with a loud clang, and I fell out hard on the floor below.

Every head turned to look at me, clearly shocked.

One of the guys yelled, lifting his gun, "There she is!"

Alessandro pounced at him, though, pushing the weapon aside before he could fire. The shot flew wide, and I got to my feet while adrenaline raced through me.

"Isabella, run!" exclaimed Alessandro, giving a rough, desperate bark.

No! Holding the closest object—a big metal pipe—I flung it at the closest assailant. He staggered back from the collision, and Alessandro had the opening he required to remove another.