Isabella POV
The sack was ripped off my head.
I blinked against the harsh light in the concrete basement. My wrists burned from the zip ties. My lip was split from the backhand I’d taken when they grabbed me outside the safehouse.
Carlo DeLuca sat in a metal chair across from me, smiling like a snake. Antonio, his son — the man I was supposed to marry — stood beside him, eyes crawling over my body.
“Rossi’s favorite toy,” Carlo said. “We’re going to send him pieces of you until he bleeds out.”
They started torturing me. Cigarette burns on my thigh. Fists to my ribs. Questions about Lorenzo’s shipments, his safehouses, his plans. I gave them nothing. Every time they hit me, I pictured Lorenzo’s face and stayed silent.
“You’ll break,” Antonio sneered, grabbing my jaw. “Then I’ll f**k w
