They raced through the streets. Isabella gripped the door handle so tight her knuckles hurt. Matteo's driving was fast, sharp every turn and felt too close. The tires squealed against the road. Horns blared when they cut around slower cars.
"You should have told me," Matteo said, his voice tight. His jaw barely moved when he spoke.
Her stomach sank. "I thought I could handle it," she said. The words sounded weak even to her.
"You thought wrong." His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but the heat in his tone burned her.
"I was trying to protect her," Isabella said, forcing herself not to look away.
"You led them right to her."
The words hit like a slap. Her face went hot, and her eyes stung. That's not fair. "That's not fair," she said out loud.
"Fair?" His voice rose. "We don't know if your mother is alive or dead because you decided to play detective."
