Page 40 of The Man with a Treasure

“Isabella, my friend, please try to hear me.”

She gasped, but not because of hearing me. Suddenly, her wrists came together, overlapping as if someone was forcing them that way. To people we couldn’t see due to her nightmare, she cried, “Please, no more. If it is money you want—” Abruptly, she started to scream as her arms slowly, and eerily, rose into the air, her wrists still joined as if tied together, but there was no rope to be seen.

Only in her mind.

Only in her memory.

My stomach soured with the sight. “Isabella,” I called out for her as she screamed and struggled against the invisible restraints. “You are asleep!”

In horror, we all watched as her hips bucked forward, over and over, as if something was hitting them from behind. I wanted to look away, I wanted to rescue the young woman who was taken against her will, in more ways than one, but I refused to abandon her. Even as she grunted through a rape that happened so long ago.

Her father sank to his knees and screamed for his tortured daughter.

It was awful. It was too much. I immediately thought of Scarlett, and how the men raping Isabella in her nightmare now had her daughter, who was possibly facing the same fate.

As haunting grunts of pain echoed into the night, I broke wide open. It would be the last time I ever let myself be completely exposed, but Isabella needed me. I had to reach her heart to reach her tortured soul. “My friend,” my voice cracked, “it is your dark angel.” Tears fell to the limb I was balanced on. “You are safe now.”

Mercifully, the grunts stopped.

A dazed Isabella opened her eyes. “Angel?”

I scrubbed a palm down my face. “Yes. I’m here.”

Her arms lowered as she softly told me, “You are in a tree.”

Smiling, tears dripped into my mouth. “Yes. Like when I was a child.”

“I used to be a child once.”

I tried to act casual, which was almost impossible after what I had just seen. “I have heard. A beautiful one.”

“Angel, did they take me again?”

Determined to never let that happen again, I shook my head with vigor. “No. Never. I won’t let that ever happen to you again.” Behind her, I watched as the dresser and chairs, blocking her bedroom door, finally budged, and her door cracked open enough for my best friend—with his smaller than mine shoulders—to squeeze through.

“I believe you,” Isabella told me.

So that only Sal noticed, my hand cautioned his approach, while I told Isabella, “Thank you.”

Fading tears began to dry on her cheeks. “Is Scarlett home?”

I swallowed deep regret. “No, but soon.”

Absently, she exhaled. “I am very tired.”

I blew out a breath, doing my best to not spook her. Her mind was still distant, possibly still asleep. “I understand that. Since I need to stay in this tree to watch over you while you rest, would you mind if Sal helps get you back to bed?”

Her head tilted. “Scarlett’s protector?”

I nodded. “And yours. And yours, my friend.”

“That would be fine. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Isabella.” I acted surprised. “Oh look, there is Sal now. He is already with you.”

Isabella smiled and faced him. “Oh!” I was surprised when she reverted back to Italian, “Perfecto! Hello, Sal. We were just speaking of you.”

Sal’s arms opened wide as he delivered one of his best smiles. “You ask, and you shall receive!” He gestured to her room. “Madam, may I escort you back inside?”