Chapter 270: I Own Her

Dante felt something twist in his chest.

He reached for one of the bottles and opened it. Counted the remaining pills carefully. Based on the prescription date and the amount missing, she’d been taking approximately 20 pills per day when the recommended dose was 10.

Isabella had been medicating herself. Heavily. Which meant something about this situation, about him, about what he’d done to her, about her life in general, was affecting her enough that she needed chemical intervention to function.

For just a moment, Dante felt something that might have been guilt. Or concern. Or something equally inconvenient.

Then he pushed it down.

He pocketed three of the pills, enough to get a complete analysis without her noticing they were gone. He’d have them tested in his lab. Would find out exactly what she was taking and why.

And if she was taking them because of what he’d done, because of the way he’d used her, because she was suffering in some way that went beyond emotional betrayal....then he would deal with that.

He would fix it.

Because Isabella Russo was his, and damaged property wasn’t acceptable.

Dante looked at her one last time, her sleeping face, her marked body, her vulnerability, and felt the obsession settle deeper into his bones.

Then he turned and walked out of her apartment.

His second-in-command was waiting in the black car parked on the street below.

Luca had been Dante’s right hand for twelve years. They’d grown up together in the same streets of Rome, had fought the same wars, had buried the same bodies. Luca was the only person Dante actually trusted.

When Dante climbed into the back seat, Luca handed him a cigarette without being asked.

"How is she?" Luca asked, his eyes on the road.

"Complicated," Dante said, lighting the cigarette. "And medicated. Heavily medicated, based on what I saw."

He passed the small plastic bag with the three pills to Luca, who took them without question.

"What am I looking for?" Luca asked.

"Complete analysis," Dante said. "I want to know the exact compound. The concentration. Why she’s taking it. Everything. I want the results in 48 hours."

Luca nodded and pocketed the bag.

"She’s been taking double the recommended dose," Dante continued, his voice quiet but dangerous. "Which means something is affecting her significantly. I want to know what."

"You care about her," Luca observed. It wasn’t a question.

"I own her," Dante corrected. "Owners take care of their property. Find out what’s wrong with her. I want to know if this is something new or if she’s been like this for a while."

"And if she is?" Luca asked.

"Then I fix it," Dante said simply. "Whatever it is, I fix it."

Luca was quiet for a moment. "That’s not ownership, boss. That’s something else."

Dante didn’t respond. Just looked out the window at Rome passing by, the ancient streets, the modern buildings, the city that had shaped him into what he was.

"What about Valentino?" Dante asked, changing the subject.

"My men are in position," Luca said, his hands steady on the wheel. "The island is isolated, but not impenetrable. We’re sending the full team tomorrow night. Arrive under darkness. By the time the sun comes up, he won’t be a problem anymore."

"The woman?" Dante asked.

"Collateral damage, most likely,"Luca said. "Unless you want us to...."

"No," Dante said sharply. "Valentino dies. But Eve Thorne lives. Make that clear to everyone on the operation. If she’s harmed in any way, the people responsible will answer to me personally."

Luca nodded, accepting this without question. He knew his boss well enough to understand that some decisions weren’t up for debate.

"What about the woman?" Luca asked, gesturing toward the apartment building they’d just left. "Isabella. If she finds out about this, if she learns that you killed Valentino while you were fucking her...."

"Then she’ll understand what she’s dealing with," Dante said. "She’ll understand that I’m a man of action. That when I want something, I take it. That resistance is pointless."

But even as he said it, he thought about her face. About the tears in her eyes. About the way her body had responded to him even while her mind was screaming at him to leave.

She was breaking. He could see it. The medication, the isolation, the fact that she’d been sitting alone in that apartment for three days, all of it suggested that Isabella Russo was reaching her breaking point.

Which meant he needed to be careful. Needed to handle her like the fragile thing she was becoming, even while he was destroying everything around her.

"Do it," Dante said finally. "Send the team tomorrow night. I want Valentino dead by sunrise. And Luca?"

"Yes, boss?"

"Make sure it’s clean. I don’t want any complications. I don’t want any witnesses. I don’t want anything that could be traced back to us."

"Understood."

They drove through Rome in silence, and Dante thought about the pieces on the board. Valentino on his island with his woman, thinking he was safe. Isabella in her apartment, medicated and vulnerable and completely his.

Three months ago, he’d been a man seeking revenge. A man driven by the need to avenge his brother’s death.

Now, he was becoming something more complex. Something darker. A man who wanted power, yes. But also a man who wanted to possess one specific woman completely. To own her. To protect her. To make her understand that she could never leave him.

Even if it meant destroying everything else to keep her.

By the time they pulled up to Dante’s compound on the outskirts of Rome, the sun was setting. The sky was turning orange and red, painting the city in shades of fire.

Tomorrow, Dimitri Valentino would burn.

But tonight, Dante had other things on his mind.

He pulled out his phone and opened his encrypted messaging app. He sent a single message to one of his men who was still monitoring Isabella’s apartment:

"If she leaves, follow her. I want to know everywhere she goes. Everyone she talks to. Send me hourly reports."

The response came back immediately:

"Yes, boss."

Dante set down his phone and leaned back in the car seat.

Isabella thought she could block him. Thought she could close the door on what they had. But she was his now. Marked by his hands. Owned by his cock. Addicted to the way he made her feel even while she was telling herself she hated him.

She would come back to him.

They always did.

And when she did, he would be waiting.