Chapter 7 I'M GOING TO BED.

CHAPTER 7

Isabella didn't sleep that night.

Her mind spun endlessly-rage, fear, confusion. The words echoed like a curse in her skull: We're getting married tomorrow. She replayed his smirk, his casual tone, the way he walked out like it was just another business deal.

Married?

To the same man who barged into her room, violated her space, played god over her life?

She wanted to scream. Scratch the walls. Set the entire mansion on fire.

Instead, she stared at the ceiling until dawn, hands clenched tightly in the sheets, trying to control the storm brewing in her chest.

If there was any hope of escaping this place, it had to be soon-before vows were exchanged and chains became legal.

But escape how? She'd seen the guards. The cameras. The absolute loyalty these men had to Dante.

Her only real asset was her mind-and maybe, if she played it right, Dante's overconfidence.

She needed a plan.

And fast.

-

By evening, the crew assembled once more-this time in full tactical gear. The tension in the air was palpable. Tonight was a hit.

Dante stood at the front, dressed in black from head to toe, his expression unreadable. His usual air of arrogance was replaced by quiet intensity. He wasn't just a leader now-he was a weapon about to be unleashed.

"Eyes up," he commanded.

Everyone straightened.

"This isn't just another job. Cassano is a name that carries weight. You slip up, you disappear."

He turned to Matteo. "Assignments."

Matteo stepped forward and handed out earpieces, small encrypted drives, and forged credentials.

"Blue, you're spa staff. You've memorized his preferences-use them."

"okay." She replied, yanking the earpiece from him.

They aren't on good terms.

"How rude." Matteo murmured.

"Gio and Ray, EMT disguises. You strike during the Club Medusa evacuation."

They nodded.

"Steel, surveillance van. Eyes everywhere."

"And me?" asked Cole.

"You're back up," Dante said without looking at him. "Only interfere if things go south."

"What about you, boss?" Gio asked. "Where will you be?"

Dante's lips curled. "Such gut."

Then his eyes landed on Isabella-uninvited, standing in the doorway.

The room grew still.

"Hello bride to be, shouldn't you be getting ready for our wedding?" he said, tilting his head.

"Bride to be?" Matteo thought curving his brow in confusion.

"I'm not marrying you," she said, voice calm but defiant. "You can't make me."

A few of the crew glanced at each other, unsure whether to laugh or duck for cover.

"I wasn't asking, Isabella."

"You can't own me like one of your weapons," she snapped. "I'm not a trophy."

He paused inches away from her. "No, you're not a trophy. You're leveraged."

Her breath caught.

"You'll marry me, wear the ring, smile for the cameras. And when it's done, your father's mistakes will finally be paid for-with your obedience."

She flinched.

"And what happens when I stop obeying?"

"You know what's at stake, your mother."

He turned away from her like she was a servant dismissed.

She stood frozen, heart racing. The weight of her position had never felt so real. She was a pawn in a world far bigger and darker than she'd realized.

And Dante-he wasn't a man. He was a system. A trap wrapped in designer suits and cold smiles.

-

Later that night, the mission began.

The crew moved like shadows through the city, sleek vehicles blending into traffic, whispers over radios, a symphony of chaos choreographed by experience.

At Luna Regal, Blue delivered towels with a smile, her earpiece humming updates.

"He's arrived. Checked in. Guards in position. He's having drinks."

At Club Medusa, Gio and Ray took their posts inside the fire escape stairwell. Their kits were loaded. No syringes-just a single drop of poison inside a breath mint.

Matteo's voice buzzed in their ears. "Fire alarm in three... two... one-now."

Screams. Music cut. Strobe lights flashed.

Philip Cassano's guards pushed through the crowd, flanking their boss. EMTs waved from the corner, offering masks and air filters.

He accepted without hesitation.

One drop. One breath.

By the time the fire trucks arrived, Cassano was slumped in the VIP booth. No pulse. No wounds.

Just another heart attack in the city of sin.

-

Back at the mansion, Dante returned victorious, jacket slung over his shoulder. Bloodless. Clean.

He found Isabella in the lounge, still in her robe, arms folded tightly.

"You have to be on your best behavior for tomorrow's occasion, even if it's only within the mansion." he said casually.

She didn't respond.

He sat beside her, close but not touching. "I hate when people don't answer to my words. Speak Isabella." He roared fearing the hell out of her.

"O...okay."

"Good girl. Your dress will be brought tomorrow morning. It's a nice dress, you will really love it."

"I don't need any fucking dress." She murmured.

"My bride to me is demanding punishment. Haven't I told you never to talk back to me?" He gripped her neck to the chair.

"You're choking me Dante." She coughed tapping his hand.

He released his grip from her violently making her neck shit.

"You're disgusting."

"You're still saying that," he said, turning to face her, "but you're still here."

She stared at him, tears burning in her eyes.

"I'm here because you locked every door. Because there's no exit."

He reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Then stop fighting and make it easier for yourself."

His voice was soft now, almost kind.

And that scared her more than the threats.

Because it meant he didn't just want power over her body.

He wanted her to surrender.

Mind and soul.

She stood quickly. "I'm going to bed."

Dante watched her leave, eyes calculating.

He didn't need her love.

Just her silence.

Just her name beside his.

For now.