Page 8 of Missile Strike

Death would be preferable.

Damn her father for doing this to her.

To his family.

Again.

As soon as the thought surfaced, it drowned in a wave of guilt.

None of this was his fault. He and her brother would likely die today, and she wouldn’t let her last emotion toward her father be resentment.

Isabella blinked tears away before her mom or Annalise noticed. If she allowed herself to be weak, she might fly apart in a million pieces and this time, not be able to put them back together.

Her fingers pressed into the smooth skin of her inner thigh, just above the hem of her khaki shorts. She pinched hard, letting the spike of pain center her.

Ever since the…incident when she was twelve, she’d built her life around order.

For it to end like this?

And who would miss her other than her best friend of nearly eight years, Talia?

These days, Talia was probably the closest thing Isabella had to family outside her parents, Rory, Annalise, and Brooks. Somehow, over time, she’d drifted away from the few close friends she’d made in high school and college.

Now she wished she’d had the courage to do at least one wildly impetuous thing.

Had dared to step outside her comfort zone.

Danny.

Her one impetuous thing.

It had been thirteen years since she’d seen Danny Mayhew. Yet their last evening together remained tattooed on the inner recesses of her brain.

Why had it chosen now to resurrect that memory?

A frown creased her brow. This must be what people said about one’s life flashing across their eyes when they thought they were going to die.

She’d dated. Stable men. Bankers. Attorneys. An accountant with a color-coded calendar.

They were exactly the kind of men she wanted.

None of them had ever made her feel half as alive as Danny.

Outside the window, the turquoise water deepened to cobalt as the yacht moved further into the bay toward the open water of the Aegean Sea.

Isabella paced the small confines of the cabin while her mother and Annalise huddled together on the bed with Brooks. “We’ve got to find a way to call for help.”

“Our phones are back at the villa,” Annalise reminded her. She’d stopped sobbing, but her red eyes and shell-shocked expression told Isabella she was barely hanging on.

“Your father…” Her mother’s voice hitched for the first time since they’d been abducted. She cleared her throat and tried again. “He and Rory will do everything they can to stay alive and buy us time to be rescued.”

“Who even knows we’re missing?” Isabella asked. “The security detail is dead. We’re on a boat with armed men and nowhere to run.”

She stopped pacing. Turned toward her mother and sister-in-law, a faint spark of hope igniting. “Dimitra—she’s probably called the police by now. They’ll be scouring the island and any boat traffic looking for us.”

If Dimitra was still alive. The housekeeper had come with their rental villa. Isabella hadn’t seen her when she and her family were taken.

“That’s right. Have faith.” Isabella’s mother held out her hand.