POV: EVE
Three days.
Isabella Russo had been in the city for three days, and Eve had felt her presence like a storm cloud on the horizon....heavy, inevitable, waiting to break.
Dimitri had been tense. he had become more careful. He'd doubled her security again, Marco plus three others, rotating shifts, always watching. He kissed her longer in the mornings, held her tighter at night, like he was preparing for a battle he knew was coming.
But Isabella hadn't made contact.
Not with Dimitri. Not with Eve. Not with anyone in their circle.
Which somehow made it worse.
"She's waiting," Eve had said last night, curled against Dimitri's chest in the darkness. "Building a strategy."
"I know."
"What do you think she'll do?"
"Whatever hurts most." His arms had tightened around her. "She'll find your weaknesses and exploit them. That's how she was trained."
"Then it's a good thing I don't have any," Eve had said, and felt him smile against her hair.
