ASHES AND OATHS : A MAFIA LOVE STORY (BOOK 1)

Chapter Three (Part 3) – Blood in the Market

(Isabella’s POV)

The drive out of the city felt endless. Barcelona blurred past — the glowing signs, the crowded streets, the chaos we’d left behind. Damian said nothing, his jaw set, his shirt still pressed tight against the wound I’d tried to bandage.

I wanted to ask where we were going, but the words stuck in my throat. Every question seemed to tighten the invisible wall between us.

After nearly an hour, we left the city lights behind and climbed a narrow mountain road. The sea shimmered faintly below. Finally, Damian stopped in front of a secluded villa — tall iron gates, no lights, surrounded by cypress trees whispering in the wind.

“Whose place is this?” I asked.

He stared straight ahead. “My brother’s.”

The gate opened before he even touched the intercom. Someone had been watching.

Inside, the villa was half-lit, elegant in an old-world kind of way — marble floors, dark wood furniture, a scent of cigar smoke and salt.

Then I saw him.

Luca Moretti.

If Damian was shadow and restraint, Luca was all light and danger. Dark blond hair, an easy smirk, eyes like gold that didn’t quite hide the madness behind them.

“Well, well,” he said, spreading his arms. “The prodigal brother returns. And he brought company.”

“Don’t start,” Damian warned.

“Oh, I’m not starting. I’m just… impressed.” Luca’s gaze slid to me, sharp and amused. “You must be the journalist. Isabella, right?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

He gave a low whistle. “You’ve got courage, showing up here. Or maybe you’re just stupid. Hard to tell with beautiful women.”

“Luca.” Damian’s voice hardened.

Luca laughed, lifting his hands. “Relax, brother. I’m only saying she’s got a type — the kind of man who brings bullets to dinner.”

Damian stepped forward. “We need a place to lay low. Just a few days.”

“You sure you’re not bringing the storm to my door again?”

Damian’s silence was answer enough.

Luca sighed, then turned toward me. “He doesn’t tell you much, does he?”

I met his gaze evenly. “Enough to know you’re not the kind of man I should trust.”

For a moment, surprise flickered in his eyes — then he smiled wider. “Smart girl. That’s good. You’ll need that.”

He walked past us toward the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Guest room’s down the hall. Try not to bleed on the furniture, Damian. You always were the messy one.”

When he disappeared upstairs, I turned to Damian. “He doesn’t like you.”

“He doesn’t like anyone,” Damian muttered. “But he’s all we have.”

I studied him — the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. For the first time since meeting him, he looked… human.

“Why did you leave?” I asked quietly. “Your family.”

His jaw tightened. “Because my father made monsters out of his sons. One of us escaped. The other stayed.”

“Which one are you?”

He looked at me then, something dark and fragile flickering in his gaze. “The one still deciding.”

Outside, thunder rolled over the hills. Inside, silence stretched thick with things unspoken.

I didn’t know what scared me more — the men hunting us, or the feeling that the real danger was already in this house.