A week.
Seven agonizing days.
That’s how long Isabella had been lying in this damn hospital bed, trapped in the kind of silence that was slowly killing me.
I sat in the chair beside her, my fingers tangled in my hair, elbows braced on my knees. The room smelled sterile—disinfectant mixed with the faint scent of the flowers mom had brought in yesterday. But no amount of fresh flowers could cover up the stench of helplessness that hung in the air.
I was losing my mind.
No leads. No answers. No damn clue about who was behind the threats.
I had put every single one of my men on it, had ripped apart every possible angle. Yet… nothing.
The security footage from the accident had been useless. The brakes had been tampered with, but no clear evidence pointed to the bastard responsible.
And
