Isabella couldn't breathe.
The phone trembled in her hand as she stared at the screen. Nolan knelt on a concrete floor, hands bound behind his back, shirt torn and stained with blood. His head was bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes.
But he was alive.
For now.
Her knees threatened to give out.
Juan whimpered softly behind her. "Mommy…?"
The man tightened his grip on her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to remind her he could.
"Don't scream," he murmured. "Not in front of the child."
Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might tear itself apart.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
The man smiled. "Not money."
Her breath hitched.
"Money is boring," he continued. "Money doesn't make people bleed the right way."
She swallowed hard. "Then what?"
"Choices," he said.
She shook her head. "You don't want me. You want him."
"Oh, no," he said softly. "We already have him."
Her vision blurred.
"This," he continued, tapping the phone screen, "is about you."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Why?"
"Because you're inconvenient," he replied calmly. "And because you matter to him."
She laughed weakly. "I don't matter to people like you."
"You matter enough," he said. "Enough to be used."
Juan whimpered again.
Isabella forced herself to look away from the phone and at her son.
He was small.
Fragile.
Terrified.
And she was standing between him and monsters.
She straightened slowly.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
The man released her wrist and stepped back.
"First," he said, "you don't call the police."
She nodded.
"Second," he continued, "you don't call security. Or lawyers. Or doctors."
Her chest burned.
"And third," he said, eyes glinting, "you listen."
Nolan lifted his head slightly.
His vision was blurry, one eye already swelling shut. Blood dripped down his temple, warm and sticky.
He could hear them.
He could hear Isabella.
The sound of her breathing alone nearly broke him.
"No," he croaked weakly.
The man holding him slammed his fist into Nolan's ribs.
The pain was white-hot.
"Quiet," the man said.
Nolan groaned but forced his head up again.
"Don't touch her," he rasped.
The man laughed. "Oh, you're adorable."
Nolan's jaw tightened.
He had faced corporate sharks, boardroom assassins, men who destroyed lives with pen strokes.
None of them had ever terrified him like this.
Because this wasn't about power.
This was about cruelty.
And cruelty didn't negotiate.
"Your son stays where he is," the man told Isabella. "You don't run. You don't hide. You don't fight."
She clenched her fists. "You can't just—"
"We can," he interrupted. "And we are."
She forced herself to breathe.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Because Nolan Sinclair took something from us," he said. "And we're taking it back."
Her heart pounded painfully.
"He didn't take anything," she whispered.
"Oh, he did," the man replied. "Just not from you."
She shook her head. "This is between him and you."
"And now it's between you and us," the man replied calmly.
She looked down at the phone again.
Nolan lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
His were dark, blazing with pain and fury.
"No," he mouthed.
She shook her head slightly, tears spilling.
"I won't let them hurt you," she whispered.
He tried to shake his head, but the man shoved it down.
"Enough," the man said. "Time for the rules."
He leaned in close to Isabella.
"You will leave this hospital," he said. "Alone."
Her heart slammed. "No."
"Yes," he said.
"And you will go to the address we send you."
She shook her head. "I'm not leaving my son."
"You already did," he replied.
Her blood ran cold.
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
He smiled.
She heard it then.
Juan.
His small, terrified scream from the hallway.
"Mommy!"
Her heart shattered.
She lunged forward.
The second man caught her easily.
"No," the first man said calmly. "You stay."
Juan was crying.
Calling her.
She tried to break free, sobbing, screaming.
"Don't touch him!"
"Then behave," the man replied.
The phone screen tilted.
Nolan saw it.
He heard Juan.
He went feral.
He surged forward with a roar, snapping one of the restraints.
The man holding him swore.
They struck him again.
Hard.
Nolan cried out.
Isabella screamed.
"Stop!" she sobbed. "Please! I'll do whatever you want!"
The room went quiet.
The man smiled.
"That's the correct answer."
Nolan was barely conscious when they dragged him back upright.
He forced his eyes open.
"She stays," he rasped. "You don't touch her."
The man laughed. "You don't make demands."
Nolan bared his teeth. "Kill me instead."
The man considered that.
Then shook his head. "No. That's too easy."
Nolan's chest tightened.
"This is about teaching," the man continued. "Not ending."
Nolan's vision swam.
He heard Isabella sobbing on the other end of the call.
And it nearly destroyed him.
At the hospital, Isabella was shaking so badly she could barely stand.
They released Juan into her arms.
He clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I was scared," he cried. "They were mean."
She held him tightly, rocking him, whispering over and over, "I'm here. I'm here."
The man stood a few feet away, watching.
"You have thirty minutes," he said.
"For what?" she whispered.
"To leave."
She looked up at him, eyes blazing. "If you touch my son again—"
"You'll do nothing," he said calmly. "Because if you do, he dies."
She closed her eyes.
Thirty minutes.
To abandon Nolan.
To walk into a trap.
To leave her son in the hands of strangers.
This wasn't a choice.
It was torture.
Nolan's breathing was shallow.
He tasted blood.
The man leaned close.
"She's going to come," he said.
Nolan laughed weakly. "She's stronger than you think."
"Oh, we know exactly how strong she is," the man replied. "That's why she's perfect."
Nolan's chest tightened.
"She won't break," Nolan whispered.
The man smiled.
"Everyone breaks," he replied.
Isabella kissed Juan's hair, her hands shaking violently.
"Mommy has to go somewhere," she whispered.
Juan clung to her. "Don't leave me."
Her heart shattered.
"I'll come back," she whispered. "I promise."
Juan sobbed harder.
She looked up at the man.
"If you hurt him—"
"We won't," he said. "Not today."
She swallowed.
She stood.
Every instinct screamed not to.
But Nolan's face burned in her mind.
Bound.
Bleeding.
Waiting.
The man handed her a phone.
An address popped up.
"Go," he said.
She took one last look at Juan.
Then she walked.
And as she stepped into the elevator, heart in her throat, the message arrived on her phone:
If you bring anyone, he dies.
If you run, he dies.
If you lie, he dies.
Welcome to the game, Isabella.