Isabella POV
I was in the kitchen grabbing water when the back door exploded inward. A man I didn’t recognize lunged at me, knife in one hand, the other grabbing my throat.
“DeLuca sends his regards, Rossi’s w***e,” he snarled, slamming me against the counter. His breath stank of cigarettes and rage. “Gonna f**k you bloody before I cut your throat.”
Terror spiked through me. I fought, clawing at his face, but he was stronger. He ripped at my shirt, exposing my breasts, his filthy hand shoving between my legs.
A single silenced gunshot rang out.
The man’s head jerked back. Blood sprayed across my chest as he collapsed like a sack of meat.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway, gun still raised, eyes black with fury. Two more shots — chest, head — just to be sure. The traitor’s body twitched on
