As the anesthesia flooded my system, my only relief was that I'd been reborn early enough.

The baby was only two months along.

There was still time to fix everything.

Then, a commotion erupted outside the door.

Vincent.

My heart sank.

"Where's the doctor? Get in here and check on her, she fainted! Is she alright? How's the baby?"

"Sir, we have another patient in surgery! You need to go to the emergency—"

"Shut up! One more word out of you and you get a bullet in the head!"

"If anything happens to her, this clinic will be a fucking crater by morning. I promise you that."

A bullet shattered the glass on the operating room door.

The doctor scrambled back in, apologizing profusely.

"Miss, please wait a moment, I'll be right back."

Lying on the cold operating table, a bitter, ironic smile twisted my lips.

Of course.

He wasn't the Vincent I knew.

In his heart and in his eyes, there was only Ava.

How could I have been foolish enough to think he was here for me?

My consciousness began to fade.

My mind drifted back to the moment I first found out I was pregnant.

Vincent was holding me, gently kissing my belly.

"Bella, I'm so glad I have you."

I hugged him back just as tightly.

"When the baby is born, let's leave this place. Let's settle down in Italy."

"We have too many enemies here. I want a normal life."

"Okay, whatever you say. I promise."

The scene shifted. He was pressing a gun to my forehead, his face a snarl.

"I told you, she's different. She's just a student. Why won't you leave her alone?"

"Isabella, this is the first and last time."

Bang.

A gunshot rang out, and a Soldato who had been with me for eight years collapsed in a pool of blood.

"Next time, this will be you!"

The bloody images churned in my mind.

The eight-month-old fetus was cut from me, and then Vincent himself plunged a knife into the wound in my abdomen.

"Where did you take Ava?" he'd snarled.

"Isabella, you're pushing your luck. Don't blame me for being ruthless!"

His voice from my past life echoed in my memory: "She's all yours. Do whatever you want with her. No need to report back to me."

An agonizing pain sent cold sweat beading across my body.

The doctor, wiping his own sweat, shouted, "Quick! The anesthesia is wearing off, the patient is waking up!"

The pain was excruciating. I fainted again.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a dilapidated hospital room.

The only other person there was my confidant, Leo. He rushed forward to help me sit up.

"Bella, you're awake. Are you okay?"

"He went too far this time. Why didn't you let me tell him it was you in surgery? Anesthesia wearing off during an operation can kill someone!"

I forced a weak smile.

"What difference would it have made?"

"His men didn't see you leave, did they?"

"No, we took another way out."

Leo looked at me, his eyes red.

"You took three bullets for him, Bella. Saved his life. And now, for some girl... Why don't we just get rid of her?"

I shook my head.

"If we touch her, we all die."

"He's not the same Vincent."

"Do something for me. After it's done, leave the US. And never come back."

Two days later, I received the forged documents and the overseas account information.

In all that time, not a single call or text from Vincent.

A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest made it hard to breathe.

When I got home, I felt drained of all strength.

Before I could relax, my trained ears caught the distinct click of a gun's safety being released.

I was instantly on alert, my hand tightening on the dagger hidden at my thigh.

My first thought was that it was one of Vincent's rivals.

But my body went limp, collapsing uncontrollably to the floor.

A thick, sweet smell engulfed me.

When I woke up, I was on the bed of a cheap motel. My eyes landed on the disgusting evidence of what had happened.

Used condoms were strewn by the bedside.

My stomach churned violently, and I threw up on the spot.

From outside the door, I heard Vincent's voice.

"How did it go? Did you get the evidence?"

"We got it, Don, but... Isn't Isabella pregnant? Isn't this going too far?"

"What are you trying to say? Remember who holds your leash."

"She was disobedient. She needed to be taught a lesson."

"Have men watch Ava. If Isabella shows up again, leak these photos to her father's old crew."

"Yes, Don."

My nails dug sharply into my palms, the familiar pain a desperate anchor to my sanity.

A second before he pushed the door open, I fell back onto the bed, pretending to have just woken up.

His expression changed in an instant, the mask of gentle concern sliding back into place.

"How are you? Are you okay?"

"We caught the guy who did it."

"I won't let anyone who dares touch you get away with it."

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I stared straight at him.

Vincent frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't worry, I know you. I left him alive for you. You can deal with him yourself."

"Let's go. He doesn't have much time."

He pulled me into his arms.

His embrace was as warm as ever.

But my whole body felt like ice.

In the car, he held my hand tightly, his face a perfect picture of sincere guilt.

"I'm sorry. I failed to protect you."

"I promise, it won't happen again."

Seeing my silence, he kissed my forehead.

"Bella, you're my life."

"Don't be like this. You're scaring me."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear another word.

The car soon arrived at a slaughterhouse on the outskirts of the city.

The man was barely breathing.

He looked at me with the eyes of a stranger.

But when he saw Vincent, his eyes blazed with hatred, and he lunged like a wild animal.

"You'll die like a dog!"

Vincent kicked him squarely in the chest.

"You dare touch my woman, and then you dare threaten me."

"Looks like you haven't learned your lesson."

A dagger appeared in Vincent's hand, and the man started cursing wildly.

"Who touched your woman? You're fucking insane!"

"Vincent Costello, you—"

He never finished the sentence. Vincent’s gun was already at his forehead.

Turning to face me, he curved his lips into a smile.

"Sorry. He hurt you, and I got angry. I couldn't help myself."

He passed the gun into my hand, his own hands guiding mine, just like he used to.

He wrapped my hand around the cold steel, his fingers forcing mine to tighten on the grip.

I don't know how many times I pulled the trigger, not until the floor was slick with his blood.

Every shot felt like it was hitting my own heart.

Leaving me a bloody, mangled mess.

As we walked out of the slaughterhouse, he held me tight under the setting sun.

"Bella, stop acting out."

"You know you're special to me."

"As long as you're obedient, I'll always be by your side."