OWNED BY MR MAFIA

Isabella's POV 

The automobile jolted me into the door with a strong swerve, and the tires screamed under us. As I grabbed the seatbelt across my torso and braced myself, my heart beat in my chest and adrenaline surged through me. The headlights behind us burned more brilliantly, following us over the little, dark alleyways like animals closing in on their prey.

"Enzo, what's going on?" Though I battled to keep the terror from seeping into my voice, it came out wobbly and terrified.

Enzo responded slowly, his attention fixed on the road front. I feared his tightly closed mouth may break. He swirled fiercely around another turn, the vehicle straying under the weight of the speed. The weight of all that had been left unsaid between us was palpably filling the automobile.

"They have located us," he murmured at last, his voice low and tinged with controlled fury. Vitale's men.

I pushed hard, my pulse pounding. From the phone, Luca's voice mocking and arrogant reverberated in my brain reminding me we were under hunt. The awareness rested mostly in my chest. This went beyond mere power play. This was a fully raging conflict.

"How did they overcome your security?" Trying to keep my voice calm, I asked.

"They didn't," Enzo said, white knuckles as he held the steering wheel. "They received assistance from someone inside. a traitor."

It hit me like a gut strike. Though my father had sold me into this marriage without thinking twice, betrayal was not something I knew about. This was computed to be fatal. Knowing exactly what it would mean, someone had let Vitale's men pass through.

My head ran with all the possibilities. Who would it be? Among Enzo's reliable guys is one? Is someone from the family here? As the automobile behind us turned on more lights, my mind whirled, the boom of their engine drawing closer.

Gunfire tore across the air.

I flinched automatically, ducking deeper in my seat as the rear window burst in a shower of broken glass. Hearing Enzo mutter beneath his breath, my breath seized in my throat. Once more swerving, the automobile barely avoided another gunfire assault.

"Get down!," said Enzo growled, his voice clear and keen.

Twice of telling was not necessary. My body curling into the footwell, I scrambled lower, trying to make myself as tiny as possible. The sound of the shooting was muffled out in my ears by my heart hammering so loudly.

This was survival, not only anxiety now. Though there was nowhere to go to, every instinct shouted at me to flee. Nowhere was safe. The stakes were larger than I had ever dreamed, and I was caught in the heart of a universe I did not really grasp.

Enzo jerked the car into a fast curve, the tires screeching as he drew us down a small, empty street. As we whirled between buildings, the headlights of the vehicle behind us disappeared for a time. My pulse surged as my head still whirled from the bullets fired at us.

Bella, stare at me. Enzo's voice emerged from the tumult, cool yet forceful.

I turned to face him, sitting slowly and raggedly breathing. His eyes flicked to mine for the shortest of a moment—just long enough for me to catch a glimpse of something I had not seen before—concern.

"Are you hurt?" he questioned, his voice softer now, a fracture in the tough outside.

I shook my head; my throat was too tight for speech. Though I was shocked, I was not wounded. Though I still felt afraid, there was also something more that surprised me. Enzo's presence seemed to anchor me somehow. I trusted him to guard me among all the turmoil and risk. And that awareness terrified me more than anything else.

Before I could focus on anything, the sound of the chasing automobile roared again, louder this time. Enzo's face darkened, the kind concern replaced with sharp will.

He said, "We need to lose them," and turned back toward the road.

We flew across a maze of side streets, Enzo guiding the vehicle through tight lanes and sharp twists, trying all he could to dislodge the car on our tail. But they stayed with us like a shadow, unrelenting.

Although the gunfire had ceased temporarily, this just made the stillness worse. Every instant seemed to be a ticking clock, running down to the next ambush or bullet attack.

Then suddenly another set of headlights emerged in front of us, obstructing the little street.

Enzo snarled, his hold on the wheel tightening. "Hold on."

As he applied the brakes, the car shook violently; the tires squealed as we stopped barely feet apart from the other car. As I watched them—more of Vitale's men emerging from the car ahead, pistols drawn and pointed squarely at us—my breath seized in my throat.

My heart hammered in my chest as terror crashed over me like a tsunami. This was it. We were imprisoned.

But Enzo's head was already in motion. His eyes strayed to a little alleyway immediately to our left, hardly large enough for the automobile.

"We're not done yet," he said quietly.

He wrenched the steering wheel to the left and kicked his foot on the throttle before I could inquire what he intended. The automobile jerked forward, snatching into the alley. As the side mirrors slid against the stone walls, sparks erupted and I gasped. Although the alley seemed to be closing in on us, Enzo did not slow down.

I heard motors roaring once again behind us—our attackers were not stopping. Though they would be waiting for us on the other side, they followed us into the alley.

The street expanded into a little plaza, silent and vacant when we came out of the alley. I understood, though, that this would not remain that way for very long.

"We cannot keep running like this," I said, my voice shaking. "They will find us at last."

Enzo's mouth tightened, but he did not react immediately. His gaze looked around the area in quest of anything. an escape route.

Then I noticed it: his face changed to reflect a fresh will.

He said gently, "We're not running." "NOT anymore."

I scowled at the abrupt shift in his voice. "What are you implying?"

He turned to face me, his eyes focusing on mine with a force that shivered my spine. "We're going to stop this."

He drove the car into a secret underground garage under one of the buildings before I could register what he intended. We stopped, and Enzo jumped out right once, pulling out his phone and quickly calling. His voice was urgent but subdued.

I sat there as my mind flew. His idea was what? How could we possibly wrap this up? We were only two people; the Vitale family possessed an army.

Enzo came back with a set face and colder than ever eyes.

Tight in voice, he replied, "I've called in reinforcements." We are not alone in this. My guys are on their way.

It did not much console me to think about Enzo's soldiers entering the fight. This exceeded a mere territorial conflict in scope. It had personal significance. And personally meant perilous.

With a shaking voice, "I don't understand," I said. "Why are they seeking after me? Their desire is what?

Enzo stopped only momentarily, his eyes flashing with something like shame before they hardened once more. "It goes beyond you as well. It revolves on control. authority.

I pushed back fiercely. Power. That term kept coming back to me, reminding me of the reason I had originally been driven into this marriage. I was simply another item on the board, another negotiating chip in a game I wanted not to participate in.

But something in Enzo's eyes said it was more than that. This had more to do—something deeper. Not anything he was sharing with me.

Footfall reverberated in the garage before I could press him more. My heart surged into my throat as I went for Enzo's arm, fingers clutching his sleeve's fabric.

He said in a whisper, "They're here."

Not only were his men, though.

A towering, commanding man appeared from the far side of the garage as we got out of the car, chilling me down from the spine.

Marco Vitale personally.

With his arms crossed, he stood there grinning twistedly. "You thought you could run away from me, did you?"

Enzo came in front of me, his body stiff and poised for conflict. But Marco was not by himself. More of his troops encircled us, obstructing every conceivable exit.

We were stuck. Again.

And this time I worried about whether we would survive.