Chapter 2 - The Tracks of Betrayal
Word Count: ~3,500 words
Penn Station was a chaotic, churning ocean of humanity, and to Isabella, it felt like both a sanctuary and a slaughterhouse.
Every time a man in a dark suit walked past, her heart leaped into her throat. She kept her head down, the hood of her coat pulled low, her fingers white-knuckled around the handle of her duffel bag. Her other hand remained glued to her stomach.
Just a little longer, little one, she prayed silently, her chest tight with an anxiety that made her nauseous. We just need to get on the train to Chicago. From there, a bus to Iowa. Somewhere flat. Somewhere without marble, gold, and blood.
"Isabella!"
She gasped, spinning around, her back hitting a concrete pillar. Relief washed over her, followed immediately by sharp panic. It was Maya, her childhood friend, looking frantic, her breath fogging in the chilly terminal air.
"Maya, you shouldn't have come inside," Isabella whispered urgently, pulling her friend into the shadow of the pillar. "Dominic has eyes everywhere. If his men see you—"
"I don't care," Maya said, her voice shaking as she handed Isabella a thick envelope. "This is all the cash I could pull from my savings without raising flags. It’s about four thousand dollars. It’s not much, but it’ll get you a place to sleep and food for a few months."
"Thank you. I’ll pay you back, I swear it," Isabella said, tears pricking her eyes for the first time.
"Don't worry about the money, Bella. Worry about him," Maya said, grabbing Isabella’s shoulders. Her eyes filled with terror. "You don't understand. My brother works the docks for the Castellianos. He just texted me. The entire family is on high alert. Dominic has put a bounty out for information on a 'missing asset.' He’s calling it an asset, Bella, but everyone knows it’s you. They’re shutting down the terminals."
Isabella’s blood ran cold. An asset. That’s all she was to him. A possession that had broken out of its cage.
"The train leaves in ten minutes," Isabella whispered, her voice trembling. "I have to go."
"Go. Don't look back. Change your name the second you get off that train," Maya pleaded, kissing her cheek. "Run, Bella."
Isabella turned and merged into the crowd heading toward Track 9. She showed her ticket to the conductor, her hand shaking so badly she almost dropped it. The man gave her a sympathetic look, assuming she was just another stressed traveler, and waved her through.
She found her seat in the crowded, dimly lit coach car. She chose the window seat, pressing herself as deep into the corner as possible. As the train groaned and began to roll forward, pulling away from the platform and into the dark tunnels beneath New York, Isabella let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for three months.
She looked down at her stomach, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "We made it," she whispered. "We're safe."
But luxury and safety are illusions when you belong to Dominic Castelliano.
Two hours into the journey, somewhere near the snow-covered border of Pennsylvania, the train suddenly screeched to an aggressive, grinding halt. The violent jolt threw Isabella forward, her seatbelt catching her sharply across her abdomen. She gasped, instantly wrapping her arms around her belly to protect it.
"What's going on?" a passenger across the aisle grumbled.
The overhead lights in the train flickered, then died, plunging the car into the eerie, gray twilight of the winter afternoon. The emergency red lights hummed to life.
Over the intercom, the conductor’s voice sounded tense, stripped of its usual professional calm. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing an unscheduled maintenance check. Please remain in your seats. Law enforcement is boarding the train for a routine inspection."
Law enforcement.
Isabella’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She pressed her face against the cold window. Outside, in the middle of a desolate, snow-covered stretch of track, three black, unmarked SUVs were parked, their headlights cutting through the falling snow.
They weren't police cars. They were the vehicles of the Castelliano syndicate.
"No, no, no," Isabella whimpered, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
The heavy metal door at the front of the coach car hissed open. The cold air from the outside rushed in, carrying with it the scent of expensive cologne and tobacco.
Two men entered. They wore long black wool coats over pristine suits. They didn't look like police; they looked like wolves entering a sheep pen. The passengers went silent, sensing the lethal aura radiating from them.
It was Marco. And behind him was Dominic.
Dominic walked down the narrow aisle, his eyes scanning every face with a brutal, calculating intensity. He didn't look angry; he looked hollowed out, consumed by a dark, obsessive hunger. His gaze cut through the shadows of the dimly lit car like a laser.
Isabella shrunk back into her seat, pulling her scarf up to her nose, praying to a God she wasn't sure believed in her anymore to make her invisible.
Step past me. Please, just step past me, she begged in her mind.
The heavy footsteps stopped.
Right beside her row.
Isabella kept her eyes glued to the floor, her heart beating so loudly she was certain he could hear it. A long, leather-gloved hand appeared in her line of sight. The fingers were long, powerful, and intimately familiar.
The hand reached out, gently but unyieldingly grasping the edge of her hood, and pulled it back.
Isabella froze. She slowly raised her head.
May you like
Dominic stood over her, his towering frame blocking out what little light remained in the car. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a terrifying mixture of immense relief and burning, dangerous fury swirling within them.
"Hello, Bella," Dominic said, his voice a low, gravelly purr that made the hairs on her arms stand up. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her cold skin. "Did you really think a train ticket could buy you freedom from me?"
