**MATEO'S POV**

The clock on the nightstand glowed 2 a.m., casting a dim red light across the room that made everything feel too still, too quiet except for the soft rise and fall of Isabella's breathing beside me. She was sound asleep, her face relaxed in a way it rarely was when she was awake, a faint snore escaping her parted lips that told me she was exhausted from the night we'd had.

"Good girl. Good girl" I muttered.

I leaned over, pulling the sheet back just enough to see the marks again. The faint red lines around her wrists and ankles from the rope, darker bruises on her hips...