Page 263 of The Devil's Thorn

I picked it up. Cold metal. Heavy. It didn’t feel strange in my hand. That scared me more than anything else.

I checked the clip. Loaded. Clean. Safety on. I shoved it into the side pocket of my bag and zipped it halfway, just enough to keep it hidden, but easy to reach.

My keys were on the kitchen counter. I grabbed them without a second thought, the familiar jingle sounding far too normal in the quiet of the apartment that no longer felt like mine.

I didn’t turn off the lights. Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t second guess myself. I walked out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator without stopping.

The doors closed. I watched my reflection in the mirror as the numbers ticked down. My face was pale. Tired. But not weak. Not anymore.

The garage was almost empty when I stepped out, my footsteps echoing off the concrete like the world had cleared a path for me. I walked to my car and slid inside, gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers ached.

I didn’t waste time. I started the engine and pulled out.

The city outside was muted—headlights, shadows, the low hum of music from someone’s open window as I passed. But I didn’t hear it. Not really.

All I could hear washisvoice in my head. Every lie. Every look. Every touch.

Was it all a game?

Was I just a piece on his board?

My chest tightened, but I kept my foot steady on the gas.

He’d promised me honesty. He’d looked me in the eye and told me I was his. And I’d believed him.

I’d let myself fall—deep, recklessly, without hesitation. I’d let myselfbelongto him in ways I’d never belonged to anyone.

And now?

Now I didn’t even know if the man I let into my bed was the one who signed off on my family’s execution.

A chill rippled down my spine.He knew who I was.He had to. That’s why he pulled away. That’s why Anna disappeared. That’s why everything changed the moment we got back from Italy.

He was hiding something. Oreverything. And I wasn’t going to wait another second to find out what.

I turned off the main road and headed toward the gate I knew would be guarded, but I didn’t care. If they tried to stop me, they’d fail.

I’d scream, fight, do whatever I had to—but Iwouldsee him. And hewouldgive me answers. I didn’t care if it ended in blood. I was done being left in the dark.

The headlights cut through the dark stretch of private road like a blade, illuminating the wrought iron gate looming just ahead.

His gate. The one I’d driven through before. The one I was always allowed past. But tonight? Tonight I wasn’t waiting for permission.

My pulse thundered in my ears. My grip on the steering wheel was bone-deep. Every nerve in me screamed for movement—for confrontation. I needed to see his face. Needed to hear him say it.

That it wasn’t true. That it wasn’thim. That it was all some fucked up mistake. But deep down, I wasn’t sure I believed that was possible anymore.

My phone lit up on the dashboard just as I was pulling in front of the gate. Kellan. I stared at the screen for a beat—his name burning through the dark. I hit decline. A second later, it rang again.

Persistent. Just like always.

I declined it again, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. But then a third time—because of course he wouldn’t let it go. I hit accept this time, more out of anger than patience.

“Isabella—” he started.

“Stop calling me,” I snapped, voice sharp, colder than I meant it. “Not now.”

And then I hung up. I didn’t care if he was calling to warn me, to talk me down, to beg me not to do what I was about to do.