This was the only chance I had at a better life. A free life.
I had no choice. I truly had to do this.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and stepped back, staring at the duffel bag lying open on my bed. The clothes I had packed were carefully buried beneath a layer of weapons. Knives, ammunition, all the things they expected me to carry for my mission.
No one would question it if I left. After all, this was exactly what they believed I was doing.
Camilla had already left for hers. She would be gone for months, and by the time she came back, I wouldn't be here anymore. I couldn't help thinking about last night. About our goodbyes.
She thought she would see me again. That this would just be like any other mission. But I knew better. And it was for the best.
Still, I forced myself to breathe through it. One breath, then another, even as the knife in my chest twisted deeper with every passing second.
I zipped the bag closed and slung it over my shoulder. The weight settling against my back like a final decision.
My gaze drifted around the room. From the beautiful canopied bed, the tall windows overlooking the garden, the large doors that opened onto the terrace. My toes curled inside my boots, as if I could still feel the familiar softness of the rug beneath my feet.
This was probably the last time I would ever stand here.
The bedroom I had grown up in.
I paused, committing everything to memory before quickly wiping the last dampness from my face. Then I schooled my expression into the cold, unreadable mask they had spent years teaching me to wear.
And with that, I finally walked out of my room.
By the time I made it downstairs into the foyer, I found my grandfather standing at the foot of the staircase, leaning lightly on his cane as if he had been waiting there for some time.
He turned at the sound of my footsteps and smiled at me.
"I thought I'd see you out today," he said in Italian.
"You don't have to do that, Nonno," I replied in the same language, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "I'm sure you're busy."
"No," he said gently, shaking his head as he stepped forward and took my hand. His grip was warm and firm. "You are my granddaughter. The last of my family." His thumb brushed over my knuckles in a gesture that might have looked affectionate to anyone else. "And I'm sending you off to somewhere dangerous. Surely I'm allowed the small courtesy of saying goodbye."
I froze for a fraction of a second, but I quickly schooled my expression.
If only his words hadn't sounded so accurate.
So I forced a smile and leaned down to embrace him as best as I could with the duffel bag hanging from my shoulder.
"I'll be safe," I said. "I promise."
When I pulled away, he tapped my shoulder lightly with the head of his cane.
Those icy eyes of his rarely showed emotion, but now they softened in a way that might have passed for pride.
"Good," he said. "Because this may be the last mission I send you on."
The words settled in my chest like a stone.
"You've done well for this family, Isolda. Very well." His smile widened slightly. "And when you return, we shall discuss about your future."
I already knew where this was going.
"It's time you married," he continued smoothly. "You've served the family long enough in the field. Now it's time you strengthen it in other ways."
I stiffened. "I know."
For a moment, my grandfather simply watched me, his gaze lingering on my face as if he was weighing something unseen. Then he sighed softly, the sound almost paternal, and reached out to adjust the strap of my duffel bag on my shoulder.
"Come here," he murmured.
I stepped forward when he opened his arms. His embrace was firm, despite his age. One hand resting between my shoulder blades as if he were steadying me, the other gripping his cane.
"Make me proud," he said quietly near my ear. "Our family name rests on your shoulders now."
My throat tightened.
"I won't disappoint you," I said.
"I know you won't." He pulled back, studying me one last time. "You've always been my most reliable heir."
The praise felt like a chain around my neck.
He gave a small nod toward the doors. "Go on, then. You have a long journey ahead of you."
I hesitated for half a second before turning away.
The foyer seemed quieter than usual as I walked across the marble floor, my boots echoing faintly beneath the chandeliers. The guards near the entrance stepped aside the moment they saw me approach. I flashed them a rueful smile.
I didn't look back.
Not even when the doors opened.
Definitely not when the cold air rushed in from outside.
I simply tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and walked out of the house I had grown up in. The sound of the doors closing behind me echoing through the foyer like the final seal on something I could never return to.
It was the last time I ever saw my grandfather, as his loyal granddaughter.
A pair of strong arms gathered me close, pulling me against a solid chest. My face pressed against the curve of someone's neck as a familiar scent filled my lungs. Musk, clean skin and the faint trace of smoke that always seemed to cling to him.
For a moment, everything inside me loosened.
Being held like this felt achingly familiar. The steady strength of his arms around me. The slow brush of his hand through my hair as I leaned into him, instinctively burying my face deeper against his neck like I had done countless of times before.
"Princess," Alex murmured softly.
The sound of his voice settled somewhere deep in my bones.
"You're safe now."
I wanted to believe him.
God, I wanted to believe him so badly.
But the smell of smoke kept growing stronger, thicker with every breath I took, until it no longer felt like the faint trace that followed him home after a long night. It was heavier now, suffocating. Like it was curling through the air around us.
Then came the heat, not from the warmth of his body.
Something harsher. Brighter.
It crept along my skin first. A slow, uncomfortable burn that made my brows knit together before I even understood why. The air felt wrong, too. It was too hot, too sharp against my lungs every time I inhaled.
My fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.
"Alex..." I murmured weakly.
The heat surged again, stronger this time, pressing in from all sides.
And suddenly, it didn't feel like I was in his arms anymore.
It felt like everything around us was burning.