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By then, I must have looked half-crazed.

Nothing like the quiet daughter everyone expected to move calmly through the house and ask permission before taking up space.

I was almost to the kitchen when Rafael stepped into my path.

“Isabella.”

“Move.”

His eyes dropped to the bottles and the lighter in my hands.

“What are you doing?”

“I said move.”

He caught my arm, but I jerked away.

“Let go of me.”

“Lower your voice.”

“No.”

I tried to go around him.

He blocked me again.

Rage exploded through me so fast I barely recognized my own voice.

“I’m going to burn this fucking place down.”

Rafael moved instantly.

One arm wrapped around me from behind and pinned my arms against my body. His other hand covered my mouth before I could shout again.

I fought him.

A bottle knocked against his forearm.

“Mi niña,” he said quietly beside my ear. “Stop.”

I kicked backward.

He tightened his hold just enough to keep me from breaking free.

“Stop fighting me.”

I screamed against his palm.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. But you cannot say those things where anyone can hear you.”

I twisted again.

“Isabella. Please.”

Something in his voice finally got through.

Not command.