Chapter 87. 

  “Let the show begin.”    Amma’s voice dripped with venom, her dark eyes narrowing as she stared at Ignazio    She wasn’t in a rush to kill Isabella. No. That would be too merciful. She wanted to break him first—twist the knife until there was nothing left of him but raw, bleeding regret.   And Anna?   Anna meant nothing to Her. Not a damn thing.   Ignazio’s voice was steady, but his body was stiff with tension. His fingers flexed against his gun, his jaw locked. “Hand Isabella over to me, and we can settle this.”   A scoff left Amma’s lips, sharp and mocking. Her grip on Isabella’s throat tightened, making the poor girl gasp, her hands trembling as they clawed at Amma’s wrist. But Amma wasn’t done. She wanted Ignazio to feel this.   She grabbed the gun from the table with her free hand, pressing the cold barrel against Isabella’s temple. A slow, wicked smile curled her lips as she loosened her grip on Isabella’s neck, teasing her with a false sense of relief.   “Hand over?” s