Page 46 of Brutal Truths

I don’t know what’s coming next. Don’t know where I stand with either of my bosses. Right now, I don’t care.

The only person who matters is Isabel and what she needs.

Everyone else can fuck off.

I’ll deal with them when she’s ready to face the world again. And right now, she’s not. She’s recovering. Quiet, fragile in a way I don’t like thinking about, but real all the same.

My only job now is to keep her safe.

That doesn’t mean I’m just sitting around twiddling my thumbs. She gave me a name right before passing out.

Rurik.

He’s a fucking ghost. Not a common name, but there are enough of them to make tracking him down a nightmare. Every lead I chase dies the same way, cold and useless. It’s starting to piss me off.

Who the fuck is Rurik?

My attention shifts from my laptop when Isabel steps into the kitchen. The air in the room turns heavy.

A tangible stillness follows her, a stark contrast to her normally chatty self. She keeps to herself, spends most of the day in her room, only coming out when she needs something. Food. Water. Her meds. Then she’s gone again.

There’s a darkness inside her that wasn’t there before. I see it in her eyes, hollow and distant. The way she avoids prolonged eye contact, quick glances to acknowledge I’m still around.

I don’t push. Not yet. She’s working through something I can’t fix for her.

When she’s ready, she’ll come to me—I have to believe that.

Until then, I’ll respect her need for space. Even if it’s the last thing I want.

“How’s Alma feeling this morning?” Closing my laptop, I grab the empty mug beside me and stand. “Misty said she had a rough night.”

When I needed a safe place to take her, I brought her here. Same place we stashed Alma. Isabel’s injuries required treatment, and with Misty being a nurse, it was a no-brainer. It also keeps Alma close. Gives Isabel one less thing to worry about. We’re safe at my brother’s. It’s the last spot anyone would search. Rural Wales makes it easier for me and my men to keep it that way.

As the coffee machine gurgles and hisses, Izzy leans against the counter, her eyes on me, this time longer.

Hope blooms in my chest.

“Misty’s with her now,” she says. “They’re on the deck, listening to the birds. Grams is confused. We’re both grappling with a lot right now… trying to find our footing.”

Setting my mug on the counter, I stop a few feet in front of her. Close enough to reach out for her, but far enough that I don’t. “Anything I can help you with?”

Silence stretches between us, thick enough to feel. An ache inside me longs to pull her into my chest to comfort her, but that damn unspoken barrier holds me back.

Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks, working through whatever thoughts are running through her head. I stay where I am, giving her the space to choose if and how she lets me in.

“Was this all a game to you? So you could⁠—”

“Hell no. Do you really believe I’d play games with you?”

With a subtle, almost imperceptible shrug, her gaze drifts away, a wordless dismissal.

Not happening.

I close the distance between us, slow enough not to spook her, but deliberate enough she knows I’m not backing down. My knuckle hooks her chin, lifting her face back to mine, caging her in without touching the rest of her.

I don’t know what happened during the hours she spent with those monsters. She’s not said. The ugly purple and black bruises speak for themselves. They’ve lit a fire in me that demands justice.

“Absolutely not.” I keep my voice low and calm to avoid startling her. “I didn’t mean to fall for you. Knew better than to do something so stupid.”