TWENTY-EIGHT| All mine

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I groan, tightening my arms around the soft body underneath me

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I groan, tightening my arms around the soft body underneath me. I breathe in her comforting scent, stirring in my sleep.

Flowers. Lavender. A little bit of cinnamon.

Mhm. Favorite fuckin' scent.

My eyes flutter open, seeing Isabella underneath me. My head rests on her chest as she softly snores, her fingers tangled through my hair.

How is she breathing with me on top of her?

I get up, putting my weight on my arms, watching as she takes a deep breath, turning to her side.

Pretty girl. So fuckin' pre-

I get up, heading to the washroom. After brushing my teeth and showering, I head back to the room, a towel wrapped around my waist.

The memories of last night flood my mind and I almost want to punch something out of happiness.

She kissed me. And then I kissed her. We kissed. Twice. Fuckin' twice.

I sigh, sitting down at the desk as I pull out a piece of paper. I start writing the letter, cringing at how giddy I feel at the reminder of last night.

I wrote my first letter to Isabella when I was just 8. After that, I wrote a letter almost every week for four years. The first 2 years of letters, were mainly bullshit like you're so pretty, I promise to watch my step when I walk in the garden so I don't step on your pet ants, and dumb shit like that.

When Isabella went missing, I wrote even more. I wrote to her almost every day. Begging her to come back, promising her that I'd find her, swearing that I hadn't stepped on any ants— at least not intentionally.

2 years after Isabella went missing; when we received her death note, when we thought she was dead, I completely stopped. I put all the letters in a box and hid them away.

And now she's back, and once again she's bringing out the stupid crazy soft side of me. I don't get it. How does she manage to do this to me?

My phone rings just as I finish off the letter, sealing it and putting it away. I pick it up, putting it to my ear.

"Yeah?" I speak quietly not wanting to wake her up.

"Is Isabella with you right now?" Callan's nervous voice rings through my ear.

My brows pull in as I take a peek outside, watching her snore as she cuddles rain.

"Yeah. She's sleeping, why?"

"Get yourself to the mafia house right now. I'm sending two guards to stay with Isabella, so she's not home alone."

You know it's something serious if Callan is taking it seriously. Cause' that fucker doesn't have a serious bone in his body.

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