The townhouse was still behind her when Isabella slipped back into the waiting car.
Alexander was leaning lazily against the doorframe, arms folded, his expression unreadable as she approached.
When she slid into the back seat, he followed, closing the door with a quiet thunk.
For a long moment, he simply watched her, his sharp grey eyes studying every line of her face.
"Well?" he finally said, voice low and almost amused.
"Did you get what you wanted?"
Isabella let out a faint breath, her fingers still curled around the crumpled note in her hand.
"No," she admitted.
"But I know what she wants now."
Alexander raised a brow, waiting.
"She wants me to chase her," Isabella said evenly, smoothing the paper open on her lap.
"She wants me to waste my energy, to stumble. To make a mistake."
His lips quirked faintly at that — a rare glimmer of approval.
"And?"
"And I won't," Isabella finished, her voice calm and dangerous.
"She underestimates me. They all do."
Alexander chuckled quietly, leaning back in his seat.
"You're learning," he murmured.
"I've always known," she corrected, her gaze cutting to him.
"I just forgot for a while."
He tilted his head slightly, as though considering her words, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim black phone.
"I had a team sweep the building after you went in," he said.
"They found something in the basement."
Her eyes narrowed.
"What?"
He handed her the phone. On the screen was a blurry photo — a wall covered in photographs and documents. And at the center of it all, a single picture of Isabella.
Red lines crisscrossed the wall, connecting her to Emilia, to Daniel, to her father — and to a name she didn't recognize.
One name was circled in bold red ink:
Katerina Volkov.
Isabella stared at the name, the letters burning into her mind.
"She has a name now," she murmured.
Alexander's lips curved into a faint smirk.
"She always had a name. But now you know it."
Isabella exhaled slowly, the fire in her chest growing hotter with every second.
"She wants me to find her?" she whispered.
"Fine. I will."
Alexander's eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, but there was something sharper behind it now — something darker.
"She's dangerous," he warned softly.
"More than your sister. More than Daniel. More than even your father."
Isabella met his gaze unflinching.
"So am I," she said.
For the first time that night, his smirk softened into something almost like a smile.
"Good," he murmured.
"Then let's hunt."
The next morning, they sat in Alexander's office, pouring over maps, files, and phone records scattered across the massive desk.
Katerina's name appeared again and again — in shipping manifests, wire transfers, shell companies — always in the shadows, always just out of reach.
"She's careful," Alexander observed, tracing a line on the map with his finger.
"But not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes."
Isabella leaned over the desk beside him, her hair falling loose over her shoulder.
"And when she does?"
His grey eyes flicked to hers, sharp and dangerous.
"We'll be there."
Just as he spoke, one of his men appeared in the doorway, looking tense.
"Sir," the man said.
"We have movement. A shipment just left one of her warehouses. Unusually heavy security."
Alexander straightened.
"Where?"
The man handed over a slip of paper. Alexander glanced at it, then passed it to Isabella.
Her eyes scanned the words.
And then she smiled — slow and cold.
"She's running," she said softly.
"Let's make sure she trips."
As they rose from the table, Alexander caught her wrist gently, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
"You're sure about this?" he asked quietly.
"Once you start, there's no coming back."
Isabella looked up at him, her lips curling into a faint, defiant smile.
"There was never anywhere to go back to," she whispered.
For the first time, Alexander didn't have a clever reply.
Instead, he released her wrist, his hand dropping to his side, and simply nodded.
"Then let's finish what they started," he said softly.
As they stepped into the night, the city lights glinting below them like sparks on kindling, Isabella felt it — for the first time, she wasn't just surviving.
She was hunting.
And she was going to win.