Run to Me: Chapter 8

Izzy’s been taken.

I don’t give a fuck what the rest of my family says, what that asshole Luca says.

I would bet my life on the fact that she’s been taken against her will.

That girl loves my oldest brother with everything that she has, there’s no way in fuck she’s been with someone behind his back—never mind run off with him like they believe.

But of course, Luca has jumped to conclusions. And Marco—fucking cynic that he is—wholeheartedly agrees with him.

Yes, I understand that the pictures and videos sent to our dad look damning, but I refuse to believe it unless I see my sister-in-law with another man with my own two fucking eyes.

They call me naïve.

I’m not naïve. If they paid enough attention, they would realize that I’m probably smarter than the both of them.

They don’t see things the way I do. They don’t have the attention to detail like I do. I can’t help but focus on every single move a person makes and listen closely to every single word a person utters.

Making matters worse, it’s been over one month since I’ve seen or spoken to Robyn.

I’ve stopped following her when she leaves her apartment, I’ve stopped waiting outside her friend’s apartment on Friday nights and watching her walk home. I’ve stopped parking outside the bookstore during the day just to catch a glimpse of her.

I’ve even been keeping the fucking blinds in my bedroom closed so I’m not tempted to try and spot her.

Sure, I still haven’t moved back to the penthouse, but that’s just because it would be a pain in my ass to move all of my things back over.

Keep telling yourself that, asshole.

Truth is, I find comfort being in that apartment, even if I can’t see her, at least I know I’m close to her. The chaos dims a little with that comfort. I could try going back to the penthouse and sleeping in the library I had built, but somehow I don’t think that would have the same effect.

I did have a moment of weakness and sent her flowers for her birthday. But other than that, I’ve been going cold turkey trying to battle my addiction.

So now the only two women I’ve ever cared for are currently out of my life. Robyn, by my own doing.

But Izzy? Izzy has been gone for six fucking days and I’m singlehandedly scouring the city for her since my brothers and Dad have no interest in helping.

Well, they do want to find her. Only, they want to find her to punish her for betraying our family and her husband.

Idiots.

I’m just about to leave the warehouse where I’ve been torturing a member of the Cartel for information on her whereabouts—not that it did any good, the useless fuck doesn’t know anything—when my phone rings.

Assuming it’s one of my brothers I go to decline the call, but when I see the caller ID, I quickly swipe accept and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello? Izzy is that you?” I say in a rush.

“It’s me,” she says, and the tension drops from my shoulders as I let out a breath of relief.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Izzy. I’ve been worried as hell,” I say and swallow the lump in my throat before continuing, “No one in the family is speaking to me because I told them you wouldn’t do it. I know you wouldn’t, Bella, so what the fuck is going on?”

“Not the time, Enzo. I visited the bookstore the day I was taken…” she says as though I didn’t already know this from looking into every single fucking step that she took six days ago.

“Robyn had bruises around her wrists, you need to protect her,” she says and everything inside me stills as my vision darkens and my ears ring.

Robyn had bruises.

Someone put their fucking hands on my angel.

All because I stepped away, allowing her to live her life.

This is my fucking fault.

“What the fuck do you mean she had bruises?” I growl into the phone as I start rushing towards my car.

“Just keep an eye on her En… oh fuck!” she cries, and I realize I’ve been so focused on the revelation about Robyn I completely forgot that Izzy has been wherever the fuck she’s been for the last few days.

“Izzy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but if you tell Luca I contacted you I’ll slice your neck from ear to ear in your sleep,” she growls and my lips tip up in a smile, thankful to be hearing her threaten me.

“Come back to the city, I have an apartment you can lie low in until you figure things out,” I say before putting the phone on speaker.

“And my brother can go fuck himself in my opinion, the stronzo should have had more faith in you, sis,” I say and give her the address for the apartment I’m currently staying in.

“Head to the nearest airport, I have a friend who will lend us his jet to get you here and I’ll meet you at the apartment with a doc to check you over,” I say while sending off a text to someone who owes me a favor. I lied to Izzy, he’s not my friend—I don’t keep them—but he owes me, so he’ll do as I fucking tell him.

“Thank you for everything,” Izzy whispers before hanging up and I let myself relax for the first time in days since I now know that she’s safe.

The tension comes back as soon as I think about what she said about Robyn.

I’ve been going about this all wrong. I stayed away to keep her safe from my life.

But maybe all along it was my life that could have protected her.

No more fucking around not wanting her to live in my world.

My angel’s becoming a part of my world whether she fucking likes it or not.

I don’t care what I have to do to ensure her safety. I’ll fight anyone—including her—to make sure she’s safe.

Ichuckle as I read my brother’s text, they have no idea that Izzy is safely tucked away in my guest room after being treated by a doctor for a dislocated shoulder and a few knife wounds.

I know they’ll be worried about her, but they can go fuck themselves for not believing in her in the first place.

Apparently, she feels the same way because I’m under strict orders to not breathe a word of her whereabouts.

Now that Izzy is settled, I can finally go do what I’ve been itching to do all damn day since Izzy’s phone call this morning.

I shrug on a hoodie and send Izzy a text to let her know I’m going out and that I’m not sure when I’ll be back, since I don’t know if she’s sleeping or not, before leaving the apartment and heading across the street.

I enter the bookstore and I swear I can fucking sense her before I even see her.

I don’t even have to turn my head and look to know that she’s stood stacking the shelves to my left. It’s like my fucking soul can just sense hers. She’s a part of me, the missing piece I’ve always longed for even when I didn’t know it.

I turn around and take her in, she hasn’t changed at all in the weeks since I’ve seen her, but she looks fucking tired, and I hate that.

I hate the fact that she’s probably been scared, that she’s been hurt by someone and that she’s been missing out on sleep because of it.

She’s wearing light wash jeans with an oversize black sweater, her long brown hair twisted into a bun on the top of her head, and I can see from here she’s wearing Airpods.

No wonder she didn’t hear me come in.

I clear my throat loudly and she spins towards me. I watch as her eyes widen as she takes me in, clearly not expecting to see me.

I keep my stance casual and keep my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep me from reaching out to her and dragging her into my arms where I can hold onto her, and never fucking let go.

Once she gets over her shock, she reaches up and pulls the Airpods from her ears and tucks them into her back pocket before taking a tentative step towards me.

“H-hey, can I help you?”

Ah, I see we’re just pretending she doesn’t know I’ve basically been stalking her.

“Sure you can, angel. You can help me by giving me a name,” I say, my voice gruff as the anger once again builds up inside me at the thought of someone putting their hands on her.

Someone bruising that perfect skin of hers.

Someone leaving a fucking mark on her, when it should be me and only me who gets to leave their marks on her.

Her brows furrow in confusion. “A name?”

“Yup. You see… six days ago, my sister-in-law was kidnapped by her crazy as fuck father and her friend who recently came back from the dead. Want to know the first thing she did once she got free?” I ask and she stares at me like I’ve grown another head.

Maybe I was a little too honest?

“The first thing she did was call me to tell me that when she came in here, she saw bruises marring that perfect skin of yours and was kidnapped before she could let me know. Now, be a good girl for me angel and give me a name.”

Her face pales and she instinctively rubs at her wrists. My blood boils at the fear that’s splashed across her face.

I can tell she’s not scared of me—for some fucking unknown reason—and instead, she’s gone into her head and is reliving whatever the hell happened when I wasn’t here for her.

Her body trembles as she collapses in a heap and I can’t fucking take it anymore, I make it to her in two long strides and wrap my arms around her, lifting her up from the floor. I walk over to the armchair where I sat her just a few short weeks ago when I came in here and found her on the floor.

Only this time I don’t just sit her down. Instead, I sit down myself and cradle her in my lap while whispering encouraging words against her hair as she burrows herself into my chest and sobs against me.

I’ve never been one to snuggle with a girl, but Jesus fucking Christ, this is something else.

Everything inside me settles as I feel her body against mine.

Nothing else exists, only me and her.

I can feel her heartbeat against my fingertips as I hold the back of her neck, the beat, beat, beat reminding me that she’s okay. She’s right here in my arms and now that I’ve stopped worrying about everything that could happen and decided to fall into this headfirst, she’ll never be hurt again.

I won’t fucking allow it.

Can I really bring an angel down to hell to dance with the demons?

Yes. Because she’s my fucking angel, and I’ll do anything to keep her.

I’ll carve my heart from my chest and deliver it to her with a pretty little bow before I keel over on the floor if that’s what she wants.

There is nothing I won’t do for this girl, no one I won’t kill.