Page 39 of The Scars We Keep
Another condescending smirk.“Everyone plays, Bella.Some just do it better than others.”
“Is that all you brought me here for was intel?”
His eyes are cold, calculating.“You live under his roof.You sleep in his bed.Don’t pretend you don’t hear things.”
All he sees is what advantage I can give him, a piece that I am on his fucked-up chessboard.
“Any word on Matteo?”he asks, like a shark circling its prey, looking for a weakness.
“No,” I say.
It’s not a lie; every lead has gone cold.Every whisper ends in nothing.Lorenzo’s hunt has taken him across cities, ports, and old contacts.I’ve seen the board in his office twice more since the first time, when I stumbled in drunk and reckless.Each time, it’s more cluttered and more desperate.Pins are scattered across maps with no pattern.Names are crossed out.Dead ends are stacking up.He’s chasing a ghost, and it’s eating him alive from the inside out.
“Nothing at all?”my father presses, leaning forward slightly.
I shrug, keeping my voice flat.“If I had something, you’d be the last person I’d give it to.”
A muscle jumps at his jaw, the only sign I’ve hit a nerve.
“Careful,” he warns.
“I am.”
I hold his stare because I know he’s planning something.This isn’t curiosity; it’s calculation.He wants something from Lorenzo, and I’m the thread he’s trying to pull to unravel it all.
But I won’t give him shit.
Even when I know Lorenzo wouldn’t do the same for me, even when he shuts every door behind him and locks them all, keeping me out of that part of his life, and even when he treats me as a means to an end—just a body in his bed and a name on a contract.Still, I won’t betray him.
Not to this man who killed the boy I loved and handed me over to a stranger without hesitation.
“Is that all?”I ask, voice cold as ice.
He observes me before he nods.“For now.”
I turn to leave, every muscle in my body crying out to get away, to put space between myself and this place that still has a hold on me.
I step into the hallway.The four guards straighten up immediately, falling back into formation around me.The creep’s eyes lock with mine, lingering just a second too long.I ignore him, wanting to get the hell out of here.To get back to the life I’m fighting hard to survive, one brutal day at a time.
Chapter Nine
Lorenzo
Thewhiskeyburnsasit goes down.
The glass is heavy in my hand as the amber liquid reflects the faint light.I sit in the armchair with one ankle crossed over my knee. My shirt sleeves are rolled up to my elbows, making me appear relaxed for the men stationed around the room.
It’s a lie, asevery muscle in my body is coiled tight.Every breath feels constricted and too shallow ever since I found out that Isabella went to see her father.
I didn’t receive that information from her.One of my men informed me.
I knew Isabella was capable of defiance.
Fuck, I even admired it.
Wanted it.
Fed off it.
