Page 47 of Accidental Alliance

It sweeps over my face, my clothes, the keys still clutched in my hand, the tension bracing every line of my body. It feels like he is reading me down to my very bones, stripping away the years one quiet observation at a time.

When his lips finally part, the voice that comes out is the same timbre I remember falling in love with more than eight years ago.

“Hello, Isabella.”

This is not possible.

Not here.

Not after all these years.

Not after everything.

My eyes tear away from him and latch onto the figure standing nearest the couch, and the world suddenly shifts into a whole other nightmare. One of the men has a hand gripped tightly on Matteo’s shoulder, pinning him in place beside the armchair. His face is turned toward me, his honey-gold eyes wide and wild with confusion and fear, his chest rising too fast. His gaze darts around the room as he tries to understand why half a dozen strangers are in his house and why one of them just called his mother by a name he has never heard before.

Instinct surges through me like lightning. I lunge forward so fast, my vision narrows to that single point. “Get away from him!”

I do not think.

I move.

The first man reaches for me and I drive my elbow hard into his stomach with all the force I can gather, the keys in my hand stinging against my skin.

The impact jars up my arm with a brutal, satisfying thud, and he folds enough for me to break past him. A second body comes at my side and I throw my keys at his face before slamming my knee upward blindly, catching him hard enough that he curses and doubles over.

Someone grabs at my wrist, but I rip free and claw at the next one in my path.

A lifetime of training buried under years of civilian life comes roaring back to life within seconds. My father’s voice cuts through the chaos in my head, crisp as broken glass dragging against freshly exposed skin.

Never go quietly, Isabella. Make them bleed before they take you.

So I do.

I fight like a cornered animal.

But unfortunately, as I’ve come to learn time and time again, brute force overwhelms strategy as it does too often.

Bodies close around me faster than any openings appear. Someone catches my forearm and another blocks my path. Another moves behind me before I can turn, and I land one more hit before I feel a heavy body slam into me from behind.

The floor rises with sickening speed and I hit hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, pain bursting across my chest and cheekbone as the hardwood cracks against me. Air leaves me in one helpless rush and for a second, I cannot drag any back in.

Matteo’s terrified scream rips through the room.

“Mom!”

I lunge toward his voice on pure instinct, dragging in a ragged breath as I claw at the floor for purchase. I kick backward, twist viciously, bite down on the cry tearing up my throat only long enough to scream his name instead.

“Matteo!” Hands haul me back. I thrash against them, screaming until my throat feels flayed open. “Let him go! Don’t you touch him! Don’t you touch my son!”

A knee plants in the middle of my back, pinning me flat to the floor again. Pain shoots white-hot along my spine. My arms are yanked behind me so hard, it makes my shoulders scream, and a second later, plastic zip ties bite savagely into my wrists.

“Stop!” Matteo is crying now, his voice cracking apart. “Stop, you’re hurting her! Stop!”

I twist my head and catch a glimpse of him through the bodies crowding the room. He is trying to pull free, jerking under the grip of the man holding him and pulling him out of the living room to the now open door. Tears streak down his face in large rivulets. He suddenly looks so little, so young. Not my brave soccer player with grass on his knees and sundae plans on his mind. Just a child in a room full of wolves.

“Matteo, look at me!” I shout, fighting for breath, for control, for anything. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

It is the worst lie I have ever told.