Chapter 6

Isabella Pov

The air in the safe house felt heavier than before, weighed down by tension and unanswered questions. I sat on the sleek leather couch, staring blankly at the coffee table. My hands trembled slightly as I twisted the edge of my jacket between my fingers. The events of the night replayed in my mind like a broken record, and no matter how much I tried to piece them together, they refused to make sense.

Tony was gone.

Enzo's voice echoed in my head: "If he's innocent, why would he run? And if he's guilty, what's his endgame?"

Neither possibility made me feel any better. If Tony had betrayed us, it meant everything we thought we knew about loyalty and trust was a lie. If he was innocent, then someone was playing us all-and they were doing a damn good job of it.

Enzo was pacing near the window, his movements restless, agitated. He hadn't spoken much since the call about Tony. I could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment. I wanted to say something, anything, to ease the weight pressing down on both of us, but I couldn't find the words.

Finally, he stopped and turned to me, his dark eyes piercing. "We need to figure out where Tony is, Bella. If he's working with Marco and the Morettis-"

"Or if he's not," I interjected softly.

Enzo's jaw tightened. "Or if he's not," he conceded. "But either way, we can't move forward until we know the truth."

His words made sense, but they did little to calm the storm inside me. The truth. That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? Everyone seemed to have their own version of it, and right now, I didn't know who or what to believe.

I stood and began pacing the room, mirroring Enzo's earlier movements. "What if this is exactly what they want? Whoever's behind this-they're setting us up to turn on each other. First the note, then the ambush, now Tony disappearing" I shook my head, my frustration boiling over. "It's too convenient."

Enzo watched me, his gaze unreadable. "You think someone's playing us?"

"I don't just think it," I snapped, my voice rising. "I know it. This whole thing feels like a trap, and we're walking right into it."

He crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "If you're right, then the question is: who's pulling the strings? Marco? The Morettis? Someone else entirely?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn't have an answer, and that terrified me.

Enzo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the frustration clear in his every movement. "We don't have time to second-guess everything. Tony's disappearance changes everything. We need to move fast before we lose our chance to get ahead of this."

I nodded reluctantly, knowing he was right. As much as I hated the idea of rushing into the unknown, we didn't have a choice. Whoever was behind this wasn't going to wait for us to catch up.

Enzo pulled out his phone and made a quick call, his voice low and clipped as he gave instructions. I couldn't make out every word, but I caught enough to know he was mobilizing some of our men to start tracking Tony.

When he hung up, he turned back to me. "We'll head out in ten minutes. Pack light. We can't afford to stay here any longer."

I didn't argue. The safe house, with its sterile walls and cold design, felt anything but safe now. I grabbed my bag and began stuffing it with the essentials, my mind racing as I tried to anticipate what was coming next.

Ten minutes later, we were back in the elevator, descending into the underground garage. My heart was pounding, a steady drumbeat of anxiety that refused to let up. I could feel Enzo's tension beside me, his silence more telling than any words he could have spoken.

When the elevator doors slid open, I froze.

A shadow moved in the far corner of the garage, just out of reach of the overhead lights. My breath hitched as my eyes locked onto the figure stepping forward.

It was him. The man who had saved us at the Viper's Den.

"Stay behind me," Enzo ordered, his voice a low growl. He moved in front of me, his body taut and ready for a fight.

The man raised his hands in a gesture of peace, though the smirk on his face suggested anything but. "Relax," he said, his voice smooth and unbothered. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have saved you earlier."

"Who are you?" I demanded, stepping out from behind Enzo despite his warning glare. My fear was quickly being replaced by anger. This man had been pulling the strings all night, and I was done being kept in the dark.

"Someone who's on your side," he replied cryptically.

"That's not an answer," Enzo snapped, his fists clenching at his sides.

The man's smirk widened. "I'm afraid that's all you're going to get for now. But trust me, you'll thank me later."

I stepped closer, my hands balled into fists. "You expect us to trust you? After everything you've done?"

"What I've done," he echoed, his tone suddenly sharper. "If I hadn't stepped in, you'd both be dead. Or did you forget about the little welcome party Marco and the Morettis had waiting for you?"

His words stung, mostly because they were true. Still, that didn't mean I was ready to trust him.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice hard.

"To help you," he said simply. "Whether you believe me or not, we're on the same side. And if you want to survive what's coming, you're going to need me."

Enzo scoffed. "We don't need anyone but ourselves."

The man chuckled, a low, almost mocking sound. "You're wrong. But you'll figure that out soon enough."

Before either of us could respond, he turned and disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.

I stared after him, my mind spinning. Enzo swore under his breath, his anger barely contained.

"We can't trust him," he said firmly, his eyes still scanning the garage.

"No," I agreed. "But we can't ignore him either."

Enzo didn't respond, but the tension in his jaw told me he was thinking the same thing.

As we climbed into the car and drove away from the safe house, I couldn't shake the feeling that we had just crossed an invisible line-one we couldn't come back from.

And whoever that man was, he held all the cards.