Chapter Four – The Escape Attempt
1147 Words
The whisper froze Isabella’s blood.
“Isabella… don’t scream. I’ve come to help you escape.”
Her eyes darted to Dante. He lay still, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, one arm draped carelessly over the sheets. The firelight threw shadows across his face, making him look less like a sleeping man and more like a carved statue of some ancient, merciless god.
Her heart pounded so loudly she feared it would wake him.
The intruder crept closer, a dark figure moving with practiced silence. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice was urgent, low.
“You don’t belong here,” he whispered again. “Come quickly, before he wakes.”
Isabella’s breath caught. Her body screamed to move, to seize the chance, to run. And yet… something rooted her to the spot.
“Who are you?” she breathed, barely audible.
“A friend. That’s all you need to know for now. I can get you out. But we have to go now.”
She glanced again at Dante. Even in sleep, he seemed aware, powerful, like the kind of man who could sense betrayal in his dreams. If he woke and found her missing…
Her mother’s face flashed in her mind. If I leave, will he hurt her?
The intruder seemed to sense her hesitation. “Your mother is safe if you come with me. Dante only keeps her under watch because of you. Once you’re gone, she’s free. Don’t waste this chance.”
Her pulse spiked. A door to freedom stood open before her, however fragile.
Slowly, carefully, Isabella slid out from beneath the sheets. Her bare feet touched the cold marble floor. She tiptoed toward the shadow, her heart in her throat.
The intruder reached out, gripping her wrist firmly. His touch was steady, grounding. “This way.”
He led her toward the balcony doors. The curtains fluttered in the night air, and beyond them lay the sprawling gardens, lit faintly by the moon. A rope ladder dangled over the stone railing.
Isabella swallowed hard. “Who sent you?”
His voice was tight. “A man who wants to see Romano fall. That’s all I can say.”
Every instinct screamed not to trust him. But trust wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was survival.
She gripped the ladder, her knuckles white. The ground seemed impossibly far below, but freedom shimmered at the edges of the night.
Then—
“Going somewhere?”
The voice sliced through the darkness like a blade.
Isabella’s heart plummeted. She turned slowly, dread coiling in her gut.
Dante stood in the doorway of the bedroom, awake, fully dressed, his storm-gray eyes fixed on her. The fire behind him lit the sharp planes of his face, and though his tone was calm, his presence radiated danger.
The intruder cursed under his breath. “Run!”
He shoved Isabella toward the ladder. She stumbled, clutching the rope.
But Dante moved with lethal grace. In three strides, he was across the room. A gun appeared in his hand as if conjured from thin air. He fired once, the sound deafening.
The intruder cried out, collapsing to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers.
Isabella screamed, spinning back toward Dante. “Stop! Don’t kill him!”
Dante’s eyes burned into hers, hard as steel. “Step away, Isabella.”
Her chest heaved. “Please—he was trying to help me!”
His jaw tightened. “He was trying to steal what belongs to me.”
The words landed like shackles. She shook her head furiously. “I don’t belong to you!”
For a moment, silence hung heavy, broken only by the intruder’s labored breathing.
Then Dante holstered his gun and strode forward. He grabbed the man by the collar, hauling him upright as though he weighed nothing.
“Who sent you?” Dante’s voice was deadly calm.
The intruder spat blood onto the marble. “Your reign won’t last forever, Romano. Someone’s coming for you.”
Dante’s lips curled in a cold smile. “Then let them come.”
With brutal efficiency, he struck the man across the temple with the butt of his gun. The intruder crumpled, unconscious. Two guards rushed in at Dante’s signal, dragging the limp body away.
Isabella stood frozen, her hands trembling.
When the room was empty again, Dante turned to her. His gaze was unreadable, but the storm behind his eyes told her she had crossed an invisible line.
“You disappoint me, cara mia,” he said softly.
Tears stung her eyes. “You gave me no choice. I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”
He moved toward her, slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in. “And yet, here you are. In my house. In my bed.”
“I’ll never stop fighting you,” she spat, her voice breaking.
Dante stopped just inches away, his hand lifting to brush a tear from her cheek. The gesture was so gentle it broke her resolve.
“I don’t want your surrender,” he whispered. “I want your fire. But fire can be dangerous… if not controlled.”
Her chest ached as his thumb lingered against her skin. She hated the way her body betrayed her, the way her heart raced under his touch.
“Tonight,” Dante continued, his voice low, “you almost burned the wrong bridge. Remember this, Isabella. I don’t forgive betrayal. Not from my enemies. Not from my wife.”
He turned, heading toward the door. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss loyalty.”
The door shut behind him with a finality that stole her breath.
Isabella collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her body shaking. The memory of the intruder’s words echoed in her mind. Someone’s coming for you, Romano.
Who was he? Who wanted Dante’s empire to fall? And more importantly… could she find them again?
Her gaze fell to the balcony, the rope ladder still swaying in the night breeze. Freedom had been within her grasp, only to slip away like smoke.
She clenched her fists, a spark of defiance igniting once more. Dante Romano might have her trapped, but she would never stop looking for a way out.
Far below in the gardens, hidden from Isabella’s view, two men dragged the unconscious intruder into the shadows. One of them leaned close, speaking into a phone.
“We found him inside. He tried to take her. Orders?”
A pause. Then a low, chilling voice replied:
“Don’t kill him yet. Use him. Through him, we’ll send a message Dante Romano can’t ignore.”
The line clicked dead. The men exchanged grim looks before hauling the intruder into the darkness.
And upstairs, Isabella lay awake, unaware that the war for her soul—and for Dante’s empire—had already begun.
- Writer
