Shattered Vows

Cold hearted

I made my way down the hall, my boots echoing against the concrete floor. I knew exactly what I was doing. I had a plan. And Isabella? She was just a pawn in that plan. Nothing more.

When I stepped outside, the night air hit me, cool and sharp. My car was waiting, the engine a familiar hum beneath my fingers. I didn't have time to linger, not with everything I had to do. Marco was out there, lurking in the shadows, and I was going to make sure he paid for every life he destroyed.

As I sped down the road, the city's lights blurred in the rearview mirror. Everything felt like a tightrope walk—one wrong move, and it all comes crashing down. But I was used to walking that line.

I pulled up to the bar, a nondescript place on the edge of town, where no one cared who you were or what you did. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of cigarettes, whiskey, and low conversation. The kind of place where people came to escape.

But not me. I wasn't here to escape. I was here to deal with business.

A few of my associates were already there, leaning back in a booth in the corner. They didn't need to say much when I walked in—they knew why I was here. They were just waiting for their orders.

One of them, Max, looked up from his drink. "Liam," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of something else. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the way the weight of the situation pressed down on all of us. "You look like you've been running through hell. Everything alright?"

I didn't answer immediately. I wasn't here for chit-chat. I just slid into the seat, my gaze sharp. "I'm fine."

Max didn't push it. He was smart enough to know when not to ask. The others—Rafael, Benny, and a couple of new faces—shifted their focus to me, their eyes cold, calculating. I wasn't one to waste time.

"Is the girl still secure?" Benny asked, cutting to the heart of it.

"She's fine. No issues," I muttered, feeling the heat of their stares. They all knew why she was here, what she represented. She was a means to an end, a piece of leverage to draw Marco out.

A silence hung between us for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I could feel them waiting for me to say something—anything—to give them a sign. But I wasn't ready. Not yet.

Instead, I just reached for the glass in front of me, swirling the whiskey around. The burn hit my throat, but it didn't stop the thoughts swirling in my mind. Isabella's face kept flashing in my head, her defiance, her fire. She wasn't like the others I'd taken. She wasn't breaking.

But it didn't matter. She was just a tool to get what I needed.

The conversation drifted between them, about shipments, about the next steps. But my mind kept going back to Isabella. And the more I thought about her, the more unsettled I felt. She wasn't just some scared girl. She had a strength about her.

A few more minutes passed, the tension between us all thickening. Then, the phone buzzed in my pocket, cutting through the noise. I pulled it out, seeing one of my men's name flashing on the screen. I answered without hesitation, my eyes still on the table.

"Boss," the voice on the other end was urgent, nervous. "The girl... she's freaking out. She's on the floor, clutching her stomach. She says it hurts."

I felt my jaw clench, annoyance rising. "What the hell is she doing?"

"She's crying, screaming. It's bad. I don't know what's happening, but she says her stomach—"

"I heard you," I cut him off, already standing up. "Keep her locked in. I'm coming."

I could hear the man's voice trailing off, confused, unsure. But I didn't care.

I hung up and dropped the phone back into my pocket, my mind racing. The guys at the table didn't miss a beat. They all knew what that phone call meant.

"I've got to go," I said flatly, pushing my chair back.

"Again?" Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Not again, man. You just got here. What's going on now? Another freak out from the girl?"

I didn't answer. I didn't owe them an explanation.

I tossed some bills onto the table and walked out without another word. The cold night air hit me again, and I could feel the irritation rising in my chest.

I slammed the car door shut, my grip tight on the wheel as I sped back to the place where I'd left her. The thought of her screaming, crying in pain, pissed me off. She was playing a game, trying to escape

But I wasn't playing.

Whatever was going on, I wasn't going to sit around while she pulled at my patience....
Pt2 cominggg