ISABELLA
I wasn’t sure why I agreed. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the way Enzo had covered for me in the alley — quick, smooth, almost protective. Or maybe I just wanted one night where I didn’t feel like prey.
Enzo’s invitation came through Adrian’s phone, not mine.
Just a simple message for us to get a drink. Just the four of us. Neutral ground. Enzo said we needed a break.
Adrian didn’t like it. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his thumb hovered over the screen like he wanted to crush the phone in his hand. But he agreed. And that alone told me how much he needed to appear calm.
So now we were here. At The Black Viper.
A bar owned by the Colombo family — one of the oldest allied families in the city. The place was infamous: a high‑end, members‑only lo
