I stumble. Tristan comes forward. He splits in two, three, then four and I look around frantically for some escape.
My legs feel like jelly. When I take another step my knees cave. He catches me.
“Don’t take me, please…” I beg, but my voice comes out a whisper.
I think of Sacha. Sacha will suffer for this. I can’t even think of myself.
“Please don’t take me. Please … people will die.”
“Mne zhal',” he says.
He’s sorry?
So am I.
Everything goes dark and the darkness takes me.
Chapter Nine
Tristan
I lift Isabella’s lifeless body into the truck while Dominic holds the door open.
His face speaks of what I feel as he looks at her lying on the soft leather of the back seat.
I’m on autopilot as I get in, but as I look at my brother emotion seeps in and I wonder when I truly became a monster.
I’ve been so consumed with vengeance I never thought about this part, and how I’d truly feel about what I’m doing.
When Pa announced he was retiring after our grandfather’s death he gave us all a chance to be boss of the family. His four sons had a shot at power. He knew though who he was going to choose because he saw something in each of us that made us who we are. He picked right when he chose Massimo because he’s the epitome of my mother and father.
Me though, no. I’ll always believe I wasn’t chosen because Pa saw this side of me. The beast.
What else am I if I can do this to an innocent woman?
An innocent woman who trusted me.
I look down at her and I find I can’t take my eyes off her. That last kiss I gave her was my sorrow for what was about to happen. The first kiss was me … the real me giving into the call to explore her. It wasn’t an act.
“Tristan,” Dominic says, pulling me from my thoughts. “You have to strip her clothes. We can’t take the risk.”
Fuck…
Dominic’s right. We can’t take any risk whatsoever. I wouldn’t put it past Mortimer to put trackers in her clothes. I look at him as he hands me a plain white gown comparable to what you’d get in a hospital.
“I need some privacy,” I say taking the gown. I don’t want anyone seeing her but me.
He nods agreement and when he closes the door, I start undoing the buttons to her romper. She’s weightless so it’s not hard to lift her and slip her clothes off.
Her head lulls back when I take off her bra and panties exposing her perfect naked form. Not wanting to be more than the bastard I am, I keep my eyes on her face. Her soft, vulnerable, angelic face.
I know Alyssa’s captors didn’t pay her the same respect. She looked like an angel too. The devil messed her up and allowed his animals to butcher her. They sent me her head in a box but I found parts of her scattered all over L.A.
There was never any sign of her clothes anywhere. What I buried were parts of the woman I loved. It was the worst experience of my life.
My father’s killing was enabled by Mortimer’s hand, but there was more at work when it came to Pa. Alyssa died because of Mortimer’s greed and selfish desire to teach a lesson because we crossed him.
I want to compare and contrast the violent death Alyssa suffered to what I’m doing to Isabella to justify my actions. I want to see myself as better because I’m allowing her to live. I want to think of this pursuit as a means to an end because Mortimer Viggo took so much from me and he needs to be wiped out. But I can’t do any of that because this doesn’t feel fucking right.
Nothing in my world feels right and this is just one more thing.
Confliction roils within me and I fight to remember the reasons why this has to happen. No matter how right or wrong this feels, Isabella Viggo is collateral damage and leverage. What I’m doing now is a giant step for all of us.
Mortimer Viggo is a man who is deemed untouchable and the woman before me is a way to touch him. That is what she is.
I put the gown on her and shuffle to sit so I can hold her to my chest. It’s gonna be a long night but she’ll be out for several hours. The tranquilizer I used on her is the type