[Marco's POV]

The morphine pumped through my veins, dulling the raging fire in my shattered chest.

I stared at the sterile white ceiling of the estate's underground trauma ward. The heart monitor beeped in a slow rhythm.

Isabella walked in.

She wore an impeccable black dress, her posture straight, not a single strand of dark hair out of place.

She didn't look like a woman who had just survived a cartel siege. She walked to the side of my medical bed and dropped a thick manila envelope onto ...