Chapter 89.

 The moment Isabella’s body slumped, Ignazio moved.  There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His arms were around her before she even hit the ground, catching her like she was the most precious thing in the world—because she was.  His Isabella.  His woman.  His heart slammed against his ribs as he crouched, one arm curling under her legs, the other supporting her back. She was weightless in his hold, her soft body limp, her breathing shallow. His fingers dug into her skin as he pulled her closer, cradling her against his chest.  For the first time in his life, he felt something close to fear.  But Ignazio didn’t do fear.  He did control.  He did power.  Yet, with Isabella unconscious in his arms, he felt neither.  A muscle in his jaw ticked, his throat tightening as he lifted her with ease, adjusting her against his body. He didn’t look back—not at Amma’s lifeless form, not at Anna’s bloodied body.  They were dead.  Good.  And he didn't care.   His focus was on the w